**The Blue Vein**
Nathan adored her. He’d stand beneath her window late into the evening, heart pounding, thrilled if he caught even a glimpse of her silhouette. To him, Evelyn seemed untouchable—a fragile, ethereal creature. He was captivated by her delicate frame, her pale skin so thin the faint blue tracery of veins shimmered beneath it. Just the thought of her made his breath catch.
At the school Christmas dance, Nathan finally asked her for a waltz. Evelyn was shorter than him, making it awkward, but he didn’t care. His hands trembled against her waist, his palms damp with nerves, burning with shame when he imagined her noticing. When the music faded, he stepped back, finally able to breathe again.
He couldn’t fathom why other lads weren’t just as smitten.
Take James, for instance, who fancied strapping Lucy—tall as a willow, with legs like a racehorse. When Lucy sprinted across the pitch during P.E., her high ponytail swinging like a pendulum, heads turned. But for Nathan, Evelyn was perfection—slender, almost otherworldly. She haunted his thoughts, an obsession bordering on sickness.
His mother disapproved. *”Pretty, but frail,”* she muttered to his father. *”Hardly wifely material. And that name—Evelyn—sounds so foreign. Convince him to study in London. Get him away from her.”*
His father agreed, urging Nathan to aim higher. *”A London degree opens doors. We’ll even pay your tuition if needed.”* Reluctantly, Nathan agreed.
In his dorm, he pinned up a photo of Evelyn, blown up from a class picture. But London was far from home, and youth had its way. He dated other girls, gained experience, though Evelyn lingered in his dreams.
Then he met Anna. With her, there were no trembling hands, no dizzying infatuation—just ease, trust. Slowly, Evelyn faded to memory.
After graduation, Nathan married Anna and settled in London. His mother was relieved. *”Better than that waif Evelyn,”* she’d say.
A year later, their daughter Lily was born. Nathan adored her. One sneeze, and he’d have every doctor in London on speed dial. Evelyn was just a ghost of his youth.
Then came the call. *”Your father’s in hospital. Surgery. Come home.”*
Lily had a cold, so Anna stayed behind. Nathan took unpaid leave and went alone.
London saw him off with grey drizzle, but his hometown welcomed him with golden autumn sunlight. His father, ever stoic, cracked jokes post-op. With the danger passed, Nathan prepared to return to his girls.
Walking home from the hospital, he savored the crisp air, the crunch of leaves underfoot. Ahead, a woman stopped, adjusting a pram. Before his mind caught up, his heart leaped—*Evelyn*.
“Hello,” he said, approaching.
She turned, smiling in recognition. Time hadn’t dulled her—still slender, her skin translucent, veins faintly visible. That same distant sadness in her eyes.
“Visiting your parents?” she asked.
“My dad. Just had surgery.”
“Nothing serious?” Her brow creased with worry.
“He’s fine. And you? Yours?” He nodded at the pram.
“Mine.” The way she said it told him she wasn’t married.
A pang of pity struck him. He wanted to cradle her face, kiss her right there on the pavement. He walked her home, chatting about old classmates. Helped carry the pram upstairs. Her flat hadn’t changed; her parents had moved to the countryside, leaving it to her.
“Drop by sometime,” she said as he left.
He nearly asked to stay but held back. Some boundaries never faded.
The next morning, he bought roses and went to her. She wasn’t surprised, just hushed him—*”Lily’s sleeping.”*
On her tiny kitchen, closeness overwhelmed him. That old tremor returned. As she arranged the flowers, her temple pulsed with that familiar blue vein.
He couldn’t resist. He kissed it.
For a heartbeat, she froze—then clung to him like a reed in a storm. The cry of her child shattered the moment. She pulled away, vanishing into the nursery.
“I should go,” he rasped.
At the door, she whispered, *”Come back after ten.”*
The streets blurred as he wrestled with himself. Years ago, he’d have soared at those words. Now, they threatened everything. *Anna, Lily—his uncomplicated, steady love.*
Back at his parents’, his mother urged him to return to his family. *”Your father’s fine. Don’t neglect your girls.”*
That settled it. He left that night, asleep on the train before London’s skyline emerged.
At dawn, Anna welcomed him with sleepy delight. Lily—rosy-cheeked, shouting *”Daddy!”*—leapt into his arms. He breathed in her scent, heart full.
*This was home. Simple. Certain.*
That Christmas, they visited his parents. Strolling through town, they passed Evelyn pushing her pram, her daughter bundled against the cold. Nathan lingered just long enough to wish her a happy New Year before catching up to Anna and Lily.
Now, he wondered—what had ever captivated him so? Regret flickered for his momentary weakness, but stronger still was the relief of loyalty kept.
Evelyn would remain a bittersweet memory—a first love never meant to be, a ghost laid gently to rest.
