“You can’t do anything to me. I didn’t do anything wrong,” stammered Nathan, stepping backward. His whole body shook with fear.
In early June, warm summer weather had settled in. People eager to escape the dusty, stuffy city had left for countryside cottages, seaside holidays, or quiet villages. James and his wife, Emma, along with their daughter Sophie, set off early that morning for a weekend trip to the small village where James had grown up and where his mother still lived.
“All set? Have we forgotten anything? Let’s go before the sun really starts blazing,” James instructed, sliding into the driver’s seat.
Sophie sat beside her father, while Emma settled in the back, away from the air conditioning.
At a family meeting, it was decided that Sophie would stay with her grandmother for the last stretch of her summer break. She didn’t want to leave the city, but her friends had scattered in different directions, and staying behind felt dull.
“Why so glum? You’ll love it there. There are plenty of friends around. You might not even want to come back,” James said, trying to cheer her up.
“Yeah, sure, Dad. It’s fine,” Sophie mumbled, fastening her seatbelt.
“That’s more like it,” James said, brightening. “Final long holiday before exams, university, and then… proper grown-up life.”
The city was waking, shaking off its sleepy haze. Roads were still quiet, so they drove out quickly.
The sun had just begun to rise, its light slicing through the trees like sharp needles against their eyes. *Everything looks fine, then why does my heart feel so uneasy?* James thought, staring at the grey ribbon of road beneath them.
Four hours later, they arrived in the village, nestled in greenery and flowers. Grandmother flung open the door, gasped with joy—finally, they were here—and kissed them all in turn.
“Sophie, my dear, you’ve grown so much! James, I made your favourite scones. Come inside, don’t just stand there!” she fussed happily.
“Everything’s exactly the same,” James sighed, looking around, breathing in the familiar childhood scents. “Nothing’s changed. Your things are all in the same places. And you haven’t aged a day.” He hugged his mother.
“Oh, stop it,” she waved him off. “You must be starving after the drive. Wash up, breakfast is ready.”
“Keep an eye on her, Mum. Don’t let her roam too freely. No late-night gallivanting,” James said, biting into a scone with a satisfied groan.
“Honestly, James! Were *you* an angel at her age?” his mother chuckled, sliding a glass of homemade lemonade toward him.
“Exactly. Go on, Nan, tell me what he was like. I bet he wasn’t the saint he pretended to be,” Sophie teased.
Grandmother busied herself setting the table, then glanced out the window.
“Anyone fancy some tea?” She looked at her long-awaited guests. “Oh, Sophie, your friends are already waiting outside. Saw the car pull in.”
“Who?” Sophie darted to the window.
“Eat first,” James said sternly. “They can wait.”
“I’m full. Thanks, Nan, the scones were amazing.” Sophie shifted impatiently.
“Go on then, restless thing,” Grandmother relented. “Be back by lunch.”
Sophie dashed out.
“Mum, be firm with her. She looks grown-up, but her head’s still full of nonsense,” James muttered as the door shut behind her.
“Village life is quiet, don’t worry.”
The next evening, James and Emma prepared to return to the city. As they stood by the car, he gave Sophie his final warnings.
“Help your Nan. And *keep your phone on*, understood?”
“Dad, enough! I get it,” Sophie rolled her eyes. “If you’re this worried, maybe I *should* just come back with you?”
“Really, James, you’re being too strict,” Emma defended. “Let’s go—we’ll be driving after dark otherwise.”
As they pulled away, James glanced in the rearview mirror at his mother and daughter. He looked at Emma. *Calm. Why am I overreacting? Sophie’s smart. Nothing will happen. I have to learn to let go…* He tried to shake the sudden unease gripping his chest.
Three weeks passed. Sophie called daily, updating them on village life. Gradually, James relaxed. Then, on a Saturday morning, a call shattered the peace.
“Work calling at this hour?” Emma mumbled, eyes still closed.
James grabbed his phone. His mother’s name flashed—he answered immediately.
“Yes, Mum? Why so early?” His heart pounded, dread rising.
“James… I couldn’t stop it. I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “Sophie…”
“What happened?” James leapt up, grabbing his jeans.
“It’s bad. Come quickly. She’s in hospital. A coma…” Sobs tore through the line.
“Get up. Sophie’s in hospital,” James told Emma, tossing the phone aside.
Emma gasped, sinking onto the bed.
“What’s wrong with Sophie?” she whispered.
“Mum was hysterical. We’ll find out when we get there.”
He hadn’t refuelled last night, and now the station was crowded with weekend travellers.
“What do we do? We’ll waste so much time—” Emma’s voice trembled.
“Wait here.” James grabbed a jerry can from the boot.
Five minutes later, he filled the tank, and they sped off.
“She didn’t want to go… *We* convinced her… If she’d stayed home—” Emma sobbed.
“Stop!” James snapped. “I can’t stand it. Maybe it’s not as bad as Mum said.” But he didn’t believe it.
Nearing the village, he called his mother. She waited at the hospital, rushing to him the moment she saw him, burying her face in his chest.
“We won’t get sense from her. Emma, stay with Mum. I’ll find the doctor.”
The doctor, sipping coffee in his office, looked up as James entered.
“Ah, you’re the father? Good you came. Your daughter’s friend has a broken leg, ribs. But Sophie… severe head trauma. We operated, removed the hematoma. She hasn’t woken yet.”
“Will she… recover?” James forced out.
“We’ve done all we can. There’s a chance, but…” The doctor shrugged.
“Where’s the boy? The one on the bike?”
“Orthopaedics, first floor…”
James bolted.
“His name’s Liam!” the doctor called after him.
Inside the ward, a young man lay with a casted leg.
“You’re Liam?”
“Yeah. And you…?”
“Sophie’s dad. What happened?”
“We took a bike out. Roads were slick from rain. Hit a rock maybe—or a branch. The bike skidded, we flew off.”
“No helmets?” James guessed.
Liam avoided his gaze. “Just a quick ride…”
“Then what?”
“I broke my leg. Sophie was out cold.”
“You called an ambulance?”
“My phone was smashed. Sophie didn’t have hers.”
“So you just… *lay there*? Till morning?” James choked on fury.
“It was dark—no cars. I couldn’t move!” Liam’s voice cracked. “*I’m not to blame!*”
James studied him sensing evasion.
“Biked in my day too. Never alone. Was someone else there?”
Liam flinched.
“You’re hiding something.” James leaned in. “*Who else?*”
Liam hesitated, then whispered, “Promise you won’t tell?”
“Talk.”
“Look, it’s not my fault. Nathan fancied Sophie. Told me to stay away. But he wasn’t around, so we went riding. Danny’s bike broke down, and Jake didn’t come.”
Liam swallowed. “Old ladies complain when we ride through town, so we went out to the lanes. Stopped to talk… then Nathan’s bike roared up. Flashy thing—spoiled rich kid.”
“Sophie panicked. Hates Nathan. So we bolted. But he caught up, overtook us… then my wheel hit a rock.”
“Or he *rammed* you?”
“No! I swear!”
James exhaled. “You didn’t call for help because…?”
Liam paled—the question he dreaded.
“He… said he’d get help.”
“With no phone?”
“I don’t know! I was in shock! Waited till dawn… then a driver spotted us.”
“Where’s Nathan now?”
Liam gulped. “Don’t tell him I talked. His dad’s loaded—he’ll get off scot-free!” But he gave the address.
James stormed out.
“Tall, good-looking. Always in leathers,” Liam called weakly.
James drove to the address, a brick-walled house. He waited. Finally, a lankSuddenly, the hospital doors burst open, and Nathan—pale and frantic—stumbled in, gasping out, “I—I came to say sorry,” before collapsing into a chair, his tough facade crumbling into the raw, terrified sobs of a boy who finally understood the weight of his choices.
