When Everything Falls Into Place: Emily Chooses Herself
“Mum, I’ll be home late tonight—it’s Lucy’s birthday. We’re all going to the cinema,” Tom said, planting a quick kiss on Emily’s cheek before disappearing into the bathroom. From behind the door, his carefree laughter bubbled up as he hummed something tuneless under the sound of running water.
Emily stood by the window, listening to life humming along beside her. Tom was happy. Light. Free. The way she had never quite been.
Once, at eighteen, she’d believed in simple happiness too. David had seemed like the perfect man—charming, handsome, effortlessly confident. They fell in love, married, and started their life together with grand plans. But within a few years, Emily realised her days had shrunk to nothing but chores, silence, and loneliness.
David began staying late “at work,” coming home distant and moody. Then came the jar of baby food in his bag. The nappies. They were seared into her memory like proof.
“It’s… not what you think,” he’d mumbled.
“Then what *is* it, David? What?!” she’d screamed, clutching the jar as if it were the last thread of reality.
After that, everything crumbled. It was hard, but she endured. She raised Tom alone—no support, except for her mother-in-law, who stayed by her side through it all.
Tom grew up—smart, kind, capable. She was proud. But sometimes… sometimes the emptiness crept back. Like now.
She sank into her armchair, picked up her phone, and saw the notification: “Paul sent you a friend request.” Paul… her childhood crush. The boy who’d once waited for her at the school gates with daisies. She hadn’t realised she still remembered his smile. But her heart gave an unexpected lurch.
“Liz, you won’t believe this,” she called her best friend. “Paul—yes, *that* Paul from Year 11—just found me on Facebook!”
“Seriously? The one who was head over heels for you? David used to grind his teeth whenever he saw him. Add him! He’s doing alright now, and word is he’s recently divorced.”
She added him. Then—whirlwind. Messages. Jokes. Shared nostalgia. Flirting so sweet it made her cheeks burn. Paul was attentive, charming, sincere. For the first time in years, she felt alive.
“Tom, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” she said one evening.
“Paul?” He grinned. “Mum, I’ve got eyes. I’m happy for you.”
She glowed. Properly, for the first time in ages. But it didn’t last. Paul’s messages grew sparse. Then cold. Then came the text that turned her throat to stone:
*Emily, I’m sorry. There’s someone else. You chose David back then—it hurt. Now you know how it feels.*
She stared at the screen, stunned. A man in his fifties… holding a grudge? Had it all been a game? Payback for a teenage slight?
“What a prat,” Liz sighed when she heard. “Reply. With dignity.”
Together, they crafted the perfect message—dry, ironic, flawless:
*Dear Paul, Thank you. Truly. I haven’t laughed, flirted, or felt this alive in years. You made me feel twenty again. I hope your new love appreciates your theatrical flair. Best of luck. Kisses (platonically). Emily.*
His reply was instant—a flood of wounded pride and whining. But Emily was already laughing. Really laughing.
A week later, a blonde woman cornered her outside Tesco:
“You! Homewrecker! You ruined everything with Paul!”
Emily froze. Then, inexplicably, smiled.
“Oh, love, you’ve got the wrong woman. The *real* homewrecker is Jane. 15 Forest Road. She nicked my husband *and* got to Paul. Absolute professional.”
The woman gaped. Emily, barely stifling a laugh, walked away.
Sunlight brushed her face. And suddenly, she knew—she was happy. No men. No drama. No proof required.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Tom:
*Mum, Lucy and I are giving living together a go. We’ll see how it goes.*
Emily smiled. *That* was real happiness—watching her son make the right choices.
And her? Well… she’d finally chosen herself.
