Emily was on the bus home from work, resting her head against the window as raindrops trailed down the glass, blurring the world outside. “Just like my life,” she thought. “The future’s all foggy and uncertain. And that’s bloody terrifying.” She closed her eyes, feeling tears prick under her lashes.
“Look at kids these days. Sitting there like no one else exists. While old folks are left standing,” snapped a woman’s voice above her, brimming with bitterness.
Emily opened her eyes to see a heavyset woman looming over her seat, glaring like Emily had personally offended her.
“Here, have my seat,” Emily said, standing up.
“About time. These days, no one gives up their seat unless you ask,” the woman grumbled, plopping down with a huff.
Emily squeezed past her, overhearing muttered complaints about “rude youngsters” and a few murmurs of agreement from nearby passengers.
“Maybe her life’s even worse than mine,” Emily thought. “Could be why she’s so angry.”
“You getting off?” came a voice behind her.
Emily turned and gasped—her old schoolmate, Katie.
“Em! Blimey, it’s been ages!”
Before Emily could reply, the bus doors slammed open, and the crowd shoved them outside.
“God, I’m so happy to see you,” Katie beamed, slipping her arm through Emily’s. “You’re not getting away until I know everything.”
“Me too,” Emily said flatly. “But I can’t invite you over.”
“Don’t worry. Come to mine—well, my mum’s. I’m married now, live elsewhere. Just visiting her today.”
“Kate, I really can’t. Maybe another time,” Emily stopped walking.
“Not a chance. Next time’ll take another decade. Just half an hour, yeah?” Katie pleaded.
“Fine, but only half an hour,” Emily relented.
“Got a houseful of kids or something?”
“No. Just my daughter and husband.”
“Well, they’ll manage. Come on!” Katie tugged her past her own street and down the lane.
“Mum, look who I found!” Katie announced grandly.
Her mum gasped, delighted. Back in school, the two had been inseparable. Katie had tried keeping in touch after graduation, but Emily had been distracted—head over heels in love.
Her mum had begged her not to marry him. “A boxer? Is that even a proper job? Just punching people? Broken nose today, wheelchair tomorrow. Think, love!”
Katie’s mum busied herself with teacups. “Mum, give us a minute, yeah?”
“Of course, of course,” she said, leaving the kitchen.
“Now—spill. I could tell something’s wrong the second I saw you. Maybe I can help.”
Emily wasn’t ready to share, but Katie’s earnest sympathy wore her down.
“So you married your Jamie after all? I remember how mad you were for him.”
“Yeah. Mum and I rowed constantly over him. She always held you up as the sensible one—said you’d land on your feet because you were smart. Called me a naïve romantic.”
“Sounds like Margaret,” Katie smirked. “Still teaching?”
“Yeah.” Emily finally smiled.
Katie was blonde, slim, effortlessly polished. Emily, round-faced with unruly curls and wide blue eyes, still looked like the dreamer who believed in grand love. Though now, exhaustion had dulled her gaze.
“At first, it was good. But during qualifiers for the nationals, Jamie took a bad hit. Stroke on top of it…” Emily waved a hand. “Doctors gave no guarantees. Career over. I was already pregnant—don’t know how I didn’t lose the baby.”
She’d cared for Jamie with their newborn. Sold their car for bills. Returned to work after six months, her mum minding the baby. Six years old now—Jamie’s spitting image.
“Years of rehab. I’d given up hope he’d even walk. But he did. Boxing was done, though. He’s got no other skills—jobs never stick. Either he hates it, or they won’t take him post-injury. It’s eating him alive. He’s snappy, withdrawn. Only softens around our girl…” Emily turned away, hiding tears.
“I’ll help with work. Actually—no, I’ll talk to Paul tonight. He’s not some tycoon, but he owns a firm. Jamie could do security? Don’t fret, we’ll sort this.” Katie squeezed her hand.
“Thanks, Kate. Glad we bumped into you. But I’ve got to go. Jamie gets nervous if I’m late. Thinks I’ll leave him.”
“Swap numbers. I’ll ring tomorrow. Paul adores me—he’ll help my best mate’s husband.”
“Mum was right—you *are* brilliant. Here I am scolding Jamie, then blubbing myself.” Emily hugged her.
“Ah, shut it. It’ll all work out. You know what they say—it’s not how you start, it’s how you finish.”
At home, Emily said nothing—no false hope. Katie rang three days later, just as Emily’s patience thinned.
“Heya. Spoke to Paul—he’ll take Jamie. Wants to meet him first, though. After injuries… you know, mental state and all. Sorry if that’s blunt.”
“I get it.”
“Right, so tomorrow, three PM. Office. Smart clothes—clean-shaven. And no booze today. Paul hates that.”
“Jamie doesn’t drink!”
“Just covering bases. See you.”
Emily relayed it, omitting the drink bit to avoid offence.
Next day, Jamie went in a suit. Emily clutched her phone until he called—hired. Relief. She’d feared he’d turn to the bottle, though she’d never admit it.
Jamie thrived, confidence returning. Two peaceful months. Life almost normal.
Then Paul sacked his driver. Offered Jamie the role temporarily.
A week later, Jamie came home late, moody. He brushed off Emily’s questions—just tired.
Then he arrived with split knuckles.
“You fought?” Emily gasped.
“Part of the job. Don’t fuss.”
Two hours later, Katie called, no niceties: “I helped you, and your Jamie repaid me by beating my husband.”
“Explain properly—what happened?”
“Ask *him*. He’s unhinged!” Katie hung up.
Before Emily could interrogate Jamie, the doorbell rang—the kind of ring that demands justice.
“I’ll get it,” Jamie said.
Raised voices. A thud. Emily peered out—a man in a black coat pressed against the coat rack, shielding his face. Another in a leather jacket wheezing on the floor. Jamie had a muscle-bound bloke twice his size pinned to the wall.
“Go,” Jamie growled without turning.
He shoved them out, slamming the door as threats echoed from the hall.
“What the hell happened?”
“Your mate’s husband came to kill me. His goons were rubbish. I quit.”
“But why? It was going fine!”
“Nah. Thought he was decent. Turns out… Been driving him to his mistress’s. Waited hours, then took him home. Pretty little thing in a pink negligée, like a doll.”
“So what? Loads of blokes cheat.”
“Today, I was with him at a business dinner. He got pissed, started harassing some girl. She fought him off—I stepped in. Had to punch him to shut him up.” Jamie flexed his hand.
“Let me clean that.”
“Don’t tell Katie. She won’t believe you—think I’m lying for revenge.”
Next day, Katie arrived, tear-streaked, cheek swollen.
“Paul hit you?” Emily guided her to the sofa.
“First time. Lived with him years—turns out I didn’t know him at all. We rowed last night. I know he came here. Where’s Jamie? I want the truth.”
“What’d Paul say?” Jamie asked, entering.
“That you were drunk and hit him.”
Jamie snorted. “I don’t drink. *He* was plastered. Started groping some lass after his mates left. I stopped him. Yeah, I hit him—only way. He sacked me. Then turned up here with those meatheads, threatening me.”
“And… Katie, love, he’s cheating. Rents a flat for her. You never noticed?”
Katie stared, disbelieving. Emily hugged her as she sobbed.
“I thought *I* was the lucky one. Pitied you. Thought your mum was right—that you’d made a mistake. But *Jamie’s* the decent one. *I’m* the one to envy…”
“What’ll you do?” Emily asked. “Forgive him?”
“No. And I won’t go to Mum—she worships Paul.”
“Stay with us.”
Katie shook her head. “Paul will retaliate—against you, too.”
“He’llAnd as the weeks passed, though the road ahead still seemed uncertain, Emily realized that sometimes the darkest storms clear the way for the brightest skies.
