**When Everything Falls into Place: Emily Chooses Herself**
—Mum, I’ll be back late tonight. It’s Lily’s birthday—we’re all going to the cinema. James gave Emily a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the bathroom, his carefree laughter mixing with the sound of running water.
Emily stood by the window, listening to life humming around her again. James was happy. Light. Free. Everything she’d never quite been.
Once, at eighteen, she’d believed in simple happiness too. William had seemed like the man of her dreams—brave, handsome, self-assured. They’d fallen in love, married, started fresh. But within a few years, Emily realised her life had narrowed to domestic chores, silence, and loneliness.
William stayed late at “work” more often, returning sullen and distant. Then came the jar of baby food in his bag. And the nappies. Those details stayed burned in her memory like proof.
—It’s… not what you think, he’d muttered then.
—Then what is it, William? What?!—she’d screamed, clutching the jar like it was her last tether to reality.
After that, everything collapsed. It was hard, but she endured. She raised James alone, with no support—except her mother-in-law, who stayed by her side through it all.
James grew up kind, clever, and steady. She was proud of him. But sometimes… sometimes the emptiness crept back. Like now.
Sinking into the armchair, she picked up her phone and saw the notification: **”David has sent you a friend request.”** David… Her school crush. The boy who’d waited for her by the gates with daisies. She hadn’t realised she still remembered his smile, but her chest tightened unexpectedly.
—Sarah, you won’t believe this, she called her best friend. —David—yes, that David from Year 11—just found me on Facebook!
—No! The one who was head over heels for you? William used to grind his teeth whenever he saw him. Accept it! He’s doing well now, and I heard he’s recently divorced.
She accepted. And then—messages. Jokes. Shared memories. Sweet flirtation that made her cheeks burn. David was attentive, polite, genuine. For the first time in years, she felt alive.
—James, there’s someone I’d like you to meet, she told her son one evening.
—David? He grinned. —Mum, I’ve noticed. And I’m happy for you.
She glowed. Properly. But it didn’t last. David’s replies grew sparse. Then cold. Until one message lodged like a knot in her throat:
**”Emily, I’m sorry. There’s someone else. You chose William once—it hurt. Now you know how it feels.”**
She stared at the screen, stunned. A man in his fifties… holding onto a grudge like that? Had it all been a game? Petty revenge for a teenage slight?
—Absolute tosser, Sarah sighed when she heard. —Reply. With dignity.
They crafted the message together—dry, ironic, sharp:
**”Dear David, Thank you. Truly. I haven’t laughed, flirted, or felt like a woman like this in years. You made me feel twenty again. I hope your new love appreciates your performance. Best wishes. (Platonically) Emily.”**
His reply was instant—a flood of wounded pride, blame, and self-pity. But Emily was already laughing. Properly, for the first time in ages.
A week later, a blonde woman stopped her outside the supermarket:
—You! The homewrecker! You ruined things between me and David!
Emily froze—then, to her own surprise, smirked:
—Oh, you’ve got the wrong woman. The real expert is Janet. 15 Oak Lane. She stole my husband, and now she’s moved onto David. Professional, that one.
The blonde gaped. Emily, biting back laughter, walked home.
Sunlight brushed her face. And suddenly, she understood—she was happy. Without men. Without drama. Without proof.
James’ text chimed:
**”Mum, Lily and I are giving living together a go. We’ll see how it goes.”**
Emily smiled. This was real happiness. Watching her son choose wisely.
And her?
Finally, she’d chosen herself.
