The sky over the horizon had already turned pink, the sunrise just moments away. In the train compartment, everyone slept—except for Edmund, who lay awake on the upper bunk, watching the birth of a new day. Villages and empty platforms flickered past the window. Was he really almost home?
The door slid open slightly, and a train attendant peeked in.
“Your stop in half an hour. Two-minute halt,” she muttered before closing it again.
Edmund heard her waking someone in the next compartment. He turned back to the window, but dawn had lost its magic now. He sat up, then dropped lightly to the floor. The man on the lower bunk sighed and rolled toward the wall.
Grabbing his towel, Edmund stepped into the corridor. Most compartment doors stood ajar, the air thick and warm. A few passengers stirred inside. The lavatory was occupied. He stared out the window instead. Four years since he’d been home. No one expected him—he hadn’t told them. A surprise. Now he wondered if that had been a mistake. His pulse hadn’t slowed all night. What would his mother do when she saw him on the doorstep?
Since his father’s death, her health had been fragile. Joy could shake her as much as grief. He should’ve at least called Edward—let him soften the shock.
Back in the compartment, Edmund dressed, slung his rucksack over his shoulder, and glanced around to check he hadn’t forgotten anything. He waited by the window, watching for his stop.
Edward. His mother always used his full name. After their father died, he’d taken his place—her confidant, her pride. Edmund had always been “Eddie,” the younger one, the scamp. It used to sting, thinking she loved Edward more. But their father? He’d adored Eddie.
“Who on earth do you take after?” she’d sigh whenever his school report mentioned misbehaviour.
“Every family needs a fool. Like in the stories. Don’t worry—you’ll be proud of me someday,” Eddie would boast.
She’d only shake her head.
Edward finished school with top marks, breezed into university to study economics. Their mother glowed, holding him up as the example. Meanwhile, Eddie lived for football, pirate tales, and daydreams of adventure.
Her reverence for Edward gnawed at him. Every compliment, every comparison, made him want to dig his heels in harder. He was who he was—no imitation, no apologies. Though he’d never deny his brother’s brilliance.
By the time Edward graduated, Eddie had his own diploma—barely. They looked nothing alike. Edward took after their mother: fair, blue-eyed, soft features. Eddie was all dark curls and restless energy, eyes like a cat’s. She’d called him “kitten” as a boy. He couldn’t recall her ever giving Edward a nickname.
Of course, university was expected of him too. Eddie lied, skipped the applications, then claimed his grades fell short.
“At least try college. Or you’ll end up in the army,” she fretted. “Edward, talk some sense into him.”
“You need qualifications these days, Eddie. Think ahead. We’ll help you.”
“Not everyone’s cut out for a desk. Someone’s got to keep the country safe, yeah?”
“You’re playing with fire.”
The army it was. Harsh at first, but he found his footing, made friends. After discharge, he followed one to Scotland for a major construction project. When he called home, his mother wept, begged him to return. Edward scolded him. But Eddie stood his ground.
Why should he walk in Edward’s shadow? Even his clothes were hand-me-downs. Edward never ripped trousers kicking a ball around. Enough. He’d make his own way. Offices suited Edward; Eddie loved working with his hands. He’d prove his worth. Father would’ve backed him.
He called home rarely, always insisting he was thriving—too busy to visit. Now, four years later, he was finally returning. Only then did he realize how much he’d missed them.
He’d earned his own flat, furnished it respectably—good enough to bring a girl back to. But luck had been thin. Falling for a married accountant, Lydia, had driven him to take this sudden leave.
High-rises loomed outside the window. Edmund stepped onto the platform, adjusting his rucksack as he moved toward the city. The sun climbed higher; the day would be sweltering. He walked familiar streets, breathing in childhood—the scents, the corners, the memories.
Edward was probably still home, not yet left for work. His mother would open the door, gasp, throw her arms around him… God, he’d missed her.
There it was—their building. He lingered at the front door, then pressed the buzzer. Just as he considered ringing again, the lock clicked. His mother, bleary-eyed, clutched her robe over her nightdress. Recognition hit. She swayed, gripping the doorframe. Edmund caught her, guided her inside.
“Eddie, why didn’t you call?” Her fingers trembled against his cheek.
“Wanted it to be a surprise.”
“You’ve grown. Is this for good? Oh, listen to me—you’ve just arrived. Let me put the kettle on.”
She bustled to the kitchen. He locked the door, toed off his trainers, and grabbed the rucksack full of gifts. Home.
His favourite—tomato omelette, milky coffee, cheese toast—already waited on the table. He ate hungrily as she watched, chin propped on her hand. The doorbell shattered the moment.
“Who now?” Reluctantly, she rose.
Female voices reached him. He stood, peering down the hall.
“Yes, do come for dinner with Edward. His brother’s back.”
“Really?” A bright, youthful laugh. The name Sophie suited her perfectly.
She spotted Edmund and flushed.
“We’ll be there. I’ll call Edward now—he’ll be thrilled.”
“Off you go, Sophie.” His mother shut the door.
“Who was that?” He couldn’t stop staring at the spot she’d stood.
“Edward’s fiancée. Don’t you recognise her? Sophie—used to visit her gran, Mrs. Thornton from the second floor?”
“Pretty,” Eddie murmured. “Why’d you send her away?”
“Nosy, aren’t you? She’s your brother’s. Don’t even think about it. Wedding’s next month.”
“Living together already? Perfect timing.”
“You haven’t changed,” she sighed.
That evening, Edward arrived with Sophie. Broader now, bearded, his brother had grown into his gravity.
“Look at you,” Eddie said, offering his hand.
“Still the same troublemaker.” Edward yanked him into a hug. “How’ve you been?”
As Eddie talked, his gaze kept drifting to Sophie. Their eyes met often. A waste, he thought. She didn’t fit Edward—too bright for his dull rhythm.
The next day, he found her lugging shopping bags.
“Take a break?” He nodded toward a bench. “Honestly—you and Edward? Doesn’t bore you stiff?”
She laughed, clear as bells.
“He saved me. After my parents’ car crash, I came to my gran’s. Then she died a week later. I was… lost. He handled everything—the funeral, the paperwork. Helped me sell my parents’ place. I couldn’t go back. He proposed after.”
“Gratitude’s not love, Sophie.”
“I do love him,” she insisted, standing.
Eddie watched her go. He wouldn’t let this wedding happen.
Next day, she answered her door in a camisole and shorts, so fresh it hurt.
“Tea or coffee?”
“Tea.” He scowled at Edward’s coat on the rack.
“Thought it through?” he echoed Edward’s cadence.
“Seems so.” She grinned. “He’s steady. Reliable.”
“But you don’t love him.”
Eddie stepped closer.
“You’re sunlight. He’ll smother you.”
The kettle whistled. She fled to the kitchen.
“Why does he get everything?” he muttered, following.
They talked over tea. He couldn’t look away. Wrong for Edward—clear as day. They met daily while Edward worked.
The night before the wedding, his mother cornered him.
“Leave. Please.”
“Throwing me out?”
“I know you. Don’t ruin this for Edward.”
“Fine. I get it.”
At the station, he bought a ticket. Plotting sabotage.
“Hey!” Sophie’s voice startled him. “Carry these?”
He took the bags.
“Edward too busy?”
“He’s working. I manage.”
“‘Manage.’ I’m leaving tonight.”
“What? Why?”
He warmed at her dismay. Someone wanted him.
“Not sticking around to watch you marry him. You’ll regret it.”
She bit her lip.
“Come with me.” He seized her hands. “I’ve got a flat—”
“No! I won’t betray him.”
“WhatHe watched her walk away, knowing some loves were meant to stay dreams, and boarded the train alone as the station lights blurred like stars in the dawn.
