**The Worthy Suitor**
Emily stood by the window, staring at the empty street below. The trampled snow sparkled with remnants of fireworks, tinsel from Christmas decorations snagged on bare branches. The city felt deserted, everyone still asleep after the long New Year’s Eve celebrations. Inside, Emily felt just as hollow.
How had she been so blind? Why hadn’t she seen through him? Now, everything was clear—but back then… Nathan had seemed clever, affectionate, just a bit resentful of his father. *Seemed* being the key word. And she’d believed he loved her.
The click of the front door lock made her jump. She’d rehearsed a dozen scathing speeches, but now her mind went blank. Quiet footsteps paused behind her. She held her breath, goosebumps prickling her neck as Nathan’s warm breath brushed her skin.
“Em,” he murmured, leaning close.
She stepped away.
“Still mad at me?” His voice was smooth, coaxing. “I don’t know what came over me. The way he was looking at you—I just lost it.” He waited, but Emily stayed silent.
“This is your fault, you know. Smiling at him, clinging to his arm, never taking your eyes off him—what was I supposed to do?”
“Don’t twist it. We were just dancing,” Emily said flatly.
“Come on, forgive me. Jealousy’s natural when you love someone.” He tried to turn her to face him, but she shrugged him off.
“Em, this is ridiculous. I *said* I was sorry.”
“You should be apologising to *him*,” Emily snapped, finally meeting his gaze before turning back to the window.
“What, you want me to grovel to your sailor boy?” A hard edge crept into Nathan’s voice. “I went to the hospital, apologised. He didn’t press charges. Let’s just move on. When he’s discharged, we’ll have a drink, patch things up.”
Emily whirled around.
“*We*? Move on? Have a drink? There *is* no ‘we.’ Not anymore. Leave the keys and get out.”
“Oh, so you’ll bring *him* here instead?” The smoothness vanished; his voice turned sharp.
“Just go. You lied to me. I don’t want to see you.” The hurt and anger spilled out despite her efforts to stay composed.
“Should’ve put you in your place too. Remember what you said to me?” Nathan grabbed her arm, fingers digging in, yanking her close. His face was inches from hers, eyes burning with hatred.
“Let go—you’re hurting me.”
“I’ve wasted enough time on you. No, love, *I’m* not going anywhere. You *will* marry me.” He fished a ring from his pocket. “Meant to give you this earlier.” He gripped her hand, forcing it toward her finger. Emily struggled, but he only tightened his hold.
“No! I won’t marry you!” Tears welled in her eyes.
“You will, unless you want your precious sailor to stay in one piece.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would.”
***
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Daniel said.
He liked Emily. *Really* liked her. But he’d been afraid to tell her about his plans. They’d only just started seeing each other.
“Where?”
“Portsmouth. Got into the naval academy. Sorry I didn’t say sooner—wasn’t sure I’d get in.”
“Will you at least call?” Emily mumbled, head down.
“Don’t sulk. What else can I do? We don’t exactly have an ocean here. Em, I don’t want you feeling obligated to wait. It’s years of training, then months at sea. You don’t know how hard it is—waiting.”
“Stop deciding for me,” she snapped, lifting her chin.
“You’ll be at uni. Plenty of lads around…”
“Fine, just leave then!” Emily spun on her heel and marched off.
“Em!” Daniel hesitated, then let her go.
She’d been over the moon when he came back for Christmas break. They went to the cinema, strolled through frosty streets. He told her about the academy, the sea, his friends—and she listened, secretly willing him to kiss her.
But he’d only pecked her cold-chapped cheek before leaving. Back to Portsmouth the next day.
Yeah, uni had plenty of guys flirting with her. But none of them were *him*. Daniel called sporadically, chatting like a mate, steering the conversation away whenever she admitted she missed him.
Then her great-aunt passed away. No kids, estranged from family—her bureaucrat husband had died years earlier. So when the solicitor called to say she’d left Emily her flat in Kensington, even her dad was stunned.
“Massive place, posh area, barely needs a lick of paint. Perfect for when you marry,” her mum sighed dreamily.
Emily kept quiet about the flat at uni. No need to invite envy. Still, word got out. Some sneered, called her stuck-up. The course rep asked if they could use it for parties.
Second year, she met Nathan, a final-year student. Charming, attentive. With Daniel so far away—no promises, no pleas to wait—why *should* she?
“Saville… any relation to the deputy mayor?” her dad asked once.
“Dunno.”
“Ask him. Seems a decent lad. Good match.”
Nathan confirmed it later, laughing. “Yeah, but I don’t flaunt it. How’d you guess?”
“My dad. He approves.”
“Your old man’s alright. Mine? Nightmare. Can’t wait to get out.”
That night, Emily asked if they could rent the flat to Nathan.
Her dad agreed instantly. “Let him pay a token rent—future son-in-law perks,” he joked.
Nathan was thrilled. Swung her around, kissed her breathless. “You’re a gem, Em. Just gotta smooth it over with my folks.”
Things moved fast after that. Her parents barely scolded when she stayed over. They already pictured her married to political royalty.
But Nathan avoiding family questions nagged at her. Graduation came; he took a dull office job—”to spite my dad,” he claimed. Then he proposed.
She said no. “No rush. Let me finish uni first.”
New Year’s Eve rolled around. A friend’s countryside house party—packed, loud.
Nathan vanished early with the lads, drinking by the BBQ. By midnight, the dancing started. Emily was clearing plates when Nathan tugged her back.
“New year, fresh start,” he murmured, reaching into his pocket—
“Everyone, this is Daniel! Old classmate, future naval captain!” her friend announced.
Emily’s heart stopped. *Daniel.*
He spotted her, grinned. They couldn’t stop staring.
Nathan finally wrestled the ring box free—but Emily was already moving toward Daniel. They talked, then danced, oblivious to the party.
“You’re even prettier,” Daniel said, hands warm on hers.
Nathan’s voice cut in. “Mate, that’s my fiancée.”
The fight was ugly. Daniel hit the snow hard, Nathan kicking him until Emily screamed for help. Ambulance. Police.
Later, googling “Nathan Saville”—*Lieutenant’s son, currently at Sandhurst*—Emily burned with shame. The photo showed a grinning cadet. *Not him.*
Her parents were mortified.
“I *knew* something smelled off,” her mum fumed.
Daniel, bruised but smiling in his hospital bed, just said, “I’m glad you’re not marrying him.”
Nathan turned up at the flat later, twisting her wrist, snarling about the ring—until her dad burst in with Uncle Steve.
“Get out. Now.”
Daniel recovered. Called daily. Married her after graduation.
The Kensington flat? Sold. Bought a cottage near Portsmouth instead.
