Waiting for Something
Emily sat on the bench in her garden, nibbling on a Bounty bar—her favourite chocolate since childhood. The house was large, two storeys, built quickly by her father, who was a builder. Emily had an older sister, Sophie, who was seventeen. The two were close, and Sophie, as the elder, often kept an eye on her little sister—helping her, sticking up for her when needed.
Emily finished the chocolate and sighed deeply. The poor girl had been struck by an unexpected disaster—she’d fallen in love. You’d think it was no big deal—a girl about to turn fifteen, smitten. People fall in love at twelve or thirteen, don’t they? Not fifteen…
“Honestly, I wish I’d fancied someone from my class—or maybe Oliver from the year above. All the girls are mad about him, even the sixth formers, because he’s tall and ridiculously good-looking. But no, I had to go and fall for Dad’s mate, William. Oh, what am I going to do?” Emily fretted, even envying her classmates who gushed about crushes on boys their own age, not grown men.
Just then, their guests arrived—Uncle William, his wife Sarah, and their daughter Lily, who was two years younger than Emily. Their families had been friends for generations, starting with their grandparents. Now Emily’s dad and William were close, and their wives got on well too.
Emily knew Aunt Sarah was kind and lovely, devoted to her husband—but that didn’t make her feel any better. She didn’t even understand what was happening to her until Sophie grabbed her arm one day and dragged her away from the house to the garden shed. It was their mum’s birthday, and everyone was celebrating.
“Emily, what on earth are you thinking?” Sophie asked, tense.
“Nothing, what d’you mean?” Emily widened her eyes innocently.
“Is this about William? Have you gone and fallen for him?” Sophie stared at her, horrified, waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, so what? Jealous?” Emily snapped—then burst into tears.
She’d fancied Uncle William for three months, ever since his birthday party at their place in the countryside. He’d been so happy, so lively. She’d even caught herself staring when he danced with her mum. But she wanted him to dance like that with *her*, to laugh and joke with *her*. It was embarrassing, this crush. She felt weird, restless.
And now clever Sophie had figured her out. She was mortified—she’d thought no one had a clue. At first, Sophie seemed annoyed, but then she suddenly hugged her little sister and said gently,
“Oh, you daft thing. Don’t worry, it’ll pass.”
Emily stopped sulking instantly as Sophie wiped her tears. But then, of course, their mum appeared, worried.
“Emily, love, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mum. She got spooked by a wasp—nearly stung her face,” Sophie lied smoothly.
“Oh, right. Be careful—there’s loads of them about,” her mum said before wandering off.
Time passed, but Emily’s crush on William didn’t fade. She did well at school, got on with her classmates, had boys asking her out—she was pretty, after all—but she never fancied any of them back. She went to school dances, let boys twirl her around, received Valentine’s cards. Later, in sixth form, she even went on dates. But deep down, she *knew*—Uncle William was the one who had her heart.
By Year 13, she’d grown up a bit more and thought seriously,
“I need to get over this stupid crush on Uncle William. It’s just a first love, and they say first loves are always doomed.” But it clung to her. “It’s like I’m living two lives—one with my family, friends, school, and the other with *him*. This isn’t right. Sophie said it’d pass, but it hasn’t.”
Then came the end of school and deciding what to do next. University? She was torn. Like any girl in a muddle, she weighed her options—psychology had crossed her mind, but then she remembered she’d always wanted to be a doctor. That settled it. She’d aced her A-levels, so getting into med school was easy.
One day, Lily—William’s daughter, whom Emily had never warmed to (because, well, Lily got to be around William *every day*, just like his wife)—rang her up. Emily was in her third year by then.
“Hi, Emily. Mum asked me to call—it’s her birthday on Saturday. We’re celebrating at ours in the country. You and your parents should come.”
“Thanks, Lily. Yeah, I’ll be there,” Emily replied automatically.
Aunt Sarah was a brilliant host—warm, organised, her food was *divine*. Everyone loved visiting. They knew Sarah would pull out all the stops. And William? He grilled the best barbecue—never burnt, always perfect.
They didn’t have many relatives, so most guests were friends—about ten, not counting the hosts. After stuffing herself silly, Emily slipped outside. It was autumn, and the crisp air was a relief after the stuffy dining room. She lingered near a little table and bench, taking in the well-kept garden. Some flowers were still clinging on, stubborn against the chill.
“Here’s your favourite,” a voice said behind her, making her jump.
William was holding a plate of raspberry cheesecake in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.
“Oh, thanks. Just put it on the table—I’ll drop it otherwise,” she mumbled, blushing. “How’d you know I liked raspberry?”
“Dunno. Noticed at some point, I suppose.” He grinned. “I notice a lot of things.” Then, before he could embarrass her further, he headed back inside.
“What *else* has he noticed?” Emily’s mind raced. “Does he *know*? And why won’t this stupid crush just *go away*?” She sat on the bench and mindlessly ate the cheesecake, barely tasting it.
Lily joined her soon after.
“Nice, right? Mum’s baking is the best. She sent Dad out to make sure you got some—knows you love it.” She smiled. “I’d have brought it myself, but I was too busy stuffing my face.”
“Yeah, really good,” Emily said vaguely. “Bit stuffy inside. Needed air. Dad wanted to eat on the patio, but Mum refused—she’s always freezing.”
They chatted away. Sophie hadn’t come—she had her own family now, lived in another city. Emily wasn’t even thinking about marriage, though she’d dated a bit. Boys had wooed her, taken her out, given gifts—some laid siege, others tried to sweep her off her feet. She’d even had a couple of “serious” relationships, or so she thought, complete with proposals.
Once, she’d got as far as an engagement, even planned to register at the council—but then she backed out, saying it was too soon, she wasn’t ready. Truth was, she didn’t *want* it. She had friends, hobbies, went on holidays and weekend trips. But it all felt flat, like nothing moved her. She even worried she was depressed, digging through her feelings—but found nothing.
In her final year of med school, she heard Aunt Sarah was seriously ill.
“Love, Sarah’s been diagnosed with something awful—advanced stage, too,” her mum said. “We’re all in shock. William’s beside himself, Lily’s in bits. I wish I could do *something*.”
Emily felt oddly guilty, as if Sarah’s illness was her fault.
“Did I *cause* this with my stupid crush?” she agonised—then shook it off. “Don’t be daft. It’s just life.”
She wasn’t glad—she ached for them. As a doctor-in-training, she knew what was coming. Once, talking to Lily, she heard her complain about her mum.
“Can you believe it, Emily? Mum’s refusing treatment. Says there’s no point—she’ll die anyway. Dad’s not arguing, but he got a counsellor to talk to her. She’s not even *crying*…”
Emily understood. By then, she’d graduated with honours and was working at a clinic. She knew this disease took lives, and there was little to fight it with. Sarah didn’t weep—she just accepted it. Her only regret was how short life had been, how young she still was. She only worried for Lily, who was finishing her economics degree amidst all this.
A year later, Sarah passed. After the funeral, everyone was gutted. Life wasn’t fair—death took the best ones. At the graveside, Emily saw a gaunt, aged William and a tear-streaked Lily. A week later, she still felt off.
“I’m not right—headaches, exhaustion, a million thoughts buzzing. I’m diagnosing patients on autopilot. Not good. Need sleep.” So on her day off, she crashed
