Escaping the Pain
When the policeman arrived at Emilys door, he didnt mince his words. There was no attempt at delicacyjust the cold, hard truth delivered bluntly:
“Your husband, James, was killed in a car accident. There was a passenger with himno identification. Any idea who she might be?”
“Probably his mistress,” Emily replied.
“Youre saying that so calmly? Doesnt your husbands death upset you?”
“Of course youd judge me,” Emily said with a bitter smirk. “Male solidarity, right? You think all women are heartless, dont you? Like youve never broken a womans heart or caused her pain? How I feelhow I grieveis my business, no one elses.”
“You could have left,” the officer said quietly.
“Leave? This is my parents housea good home. Should I have handed it over to my cheating husband so he could live here with his?”
“Im sorry. I didnt know.”
For the first time in months, Emily couldnt control her emotions. The pain was suffocating. She had lost James twicefirst when he died, and again when she learned he hadnt died alone. Now she knew for certain he had been unfaithful. Before, it had only been suspicionsgaps in trust, unanswered questions. But the puzzle was complete now.
She sat in front of the television for hours, her mind elsewhere. She tried to picture the crash, to imagine Jamess last thoughtswhether he had thought of her at all. She had suspected another woman for a long time. Lately, their marriage had been so cold it felt brittle.
Emily had stayed silent. She never asked where James was when he came home late, never questioned who kept messaging him. She didnt cry into her pillow or confide in her mother or friends. It was her secret to bear.
“Maybe James thought I was naïve. Maybe he thought he was being clever. But I just didnt want to know. I waited for him to make a move. Why didnt he leave? Or did he just run out of time?”
Emily and James had met at university, married soon after, and spent nearly ten years together. But their marriage had not brought her happiness. Everything changed four years in, when James was offered a work placement in Germany.
“Emily, Ill be gone for a year. Its an incredible opportunity.”
“A whole year?” she nearly cried.
But James had become ruthlessly ambitious. “Dont you understand? This is everything Ive wanted. I wont throw it away, no matter what you say. I refuse to spend my life scraping by.”
“Were not poor. Our parents manage fine, and we both work.”
“They manage because they dont know any better,” he snapped.
“And you do?”
“Thats why I want to see more. I have every right.”
“And me? What rights do I have?” Emily barely recognized himhis voice so cold, so unyielding.
“You? You wait for me, like a good wife. Then well live properly.”
“James, this is the worst possible time. Im pregnant. Finally, well be parents.”
She had rushed home from the doctors that day, certain hed be thrilled. But his reaction shattered her joy.
“Youre pregnant?” he asked, stunned.
“Yes. Whats wrong with that? A family should have children.”
“Love, we *will* have childrenjust not now. This placement changes everything.”
“James, dont make me lose this baby. You can goIll manage. Our parents will help.”
“Dont count on mine. You know my mother. She never wanted us to marry, and she doesnt want a grandchild.”
“Yes, I know she dislikes me.”
“Its not that. She just wants me to take this opportunity.”
“James, Im keeping this baby. You can leave if you want.”
A week later, he was gone. The next night, Emily woke in agony, her abdomen pulsing with pain. She called James firstno answer. Then her mother.
“Call an ambulance now. Well meet you at the hospital.”
It was serious. Afterward, the doctors told her she might never conceive againunless by some miracle. But Emily didnt believe in miracles. Those were her darkest days. James called daily, sent messages, but he felt distantchanged.
A year later, he returned. They lived in her parents spacious home, pretending nothing was wrong. Eight years passed before her parents made an announcement:
“Weve bought a cottage in the countryside. This house is yours now.”
They left, believing their daughter and son-in-law needed space. But without an audience, the act fell apart. James grew bitter, his career stagnant. His prestigious placement had amounted to nothing. He took his frustration out on Emily, once snapping:
“You couldnt even keep a childcouldnt even do that right.”
Emily, too, nursed resentment. She noticed his late nights, the nights he didnt come home. James started drinking, sometimes driving drunk. And on the night of the crash, he had been drinkinglost control, killed himself, his young mistress, and his own mother, who now spent her days at his grave.
The accident erased everything. Pain, anger, pityall for a man who had betrayed her. At the funeral, Emily stood dry-eyed before the coffin. Her mother-in-law sneered:
“Standing there like stone. Dont you care? Not a womanjust ice. My boy needed warmth. Needed children.”
“So did I,” Emily finally snapped. “I wanted them then, when you all fought against it. And I want them now. *You* killed my child.”
Jamess father stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Forgive us, love. We made mistakes. Maybe Jamie would still be here if we hadnt interfered.”
Emily whispered, “Forgive me too, if Ive been harsh.”
The girls family had claimed her bodyher father collected her from the morgue. Her name was Lily.
A few days after the funeral, Emily returned to work. Being around colleagues helped. One evening, as she waited for the bus, a small hand tugged hers. She looked down to see a boy, no older than three, grinning up at her. His face was painfully familiar. Then it clickedhe looked like James. Before she could react, he held out a toy car.
“Were driving home in this!” she joked weakly. The boy giggled and nodded.
A man stood nearbyhandsome, tired.
“Thats not Daddy, thats Grandad,” the boy said clearly.
The man laughed awkwardly. “Young grandad. My daughter had him early. Raised her alone after my wife diedworked overseas, thought money was the answer. But I failed her. She got involved with a married man. He rented her a flat, promised to leave his wife. I warned herhe was rotten. But she defended him. Now shes gone. Died in that crash with him. And now Ive got Charlie. Dont know how to manage workif I go back abroad, they might not let me keep him.”
Emily knew thenthis was no coincidence. This was Jamess son. Lily had been his mother.
“My names Emily,” she said.
“Daniel,” the man replied. “Daniel Harris.”
“Daniel, do you have time? I just buried my husbandthe man who cheated on me. I need to talk. Come home with me.”
“Dont mind if we do. Weve nowhere to staytrains tomorrow, was going to sleep at the station. The flats landlord kicked us outrent wasnt paid.”
Half an hour later, they were in Emilys home. Daniel froze when he saw Jamess photo.
“Thats your husband? Thats the bastard.”
“Yes,” Emily said.
“Youyou want to take Charlie?” Daniel asked, suddenly afraid.
“No. Hes your grandson. But hes Jamess son too. James died in that crash with your daughter.”
She told Daniel everythingthe sterile marriage, the lost child, her mother-in-laws cruelty.
“That woman could take Charliejust to spite us. She must never know hes Jamess son.”
Time passed. Daniel and Emily have been married four years now. Neither expected to fall in love, but little Charlie bound them togethera young grandfather, nine years Emilys senior, and a woman who became a mother to her late husbands child. Their union would raise eyebrows if people knew the truth. But why explain? They hadnt planned thisthey were just two souls escaping sorrow, clinging to the boy they both loved.
Emily sold her house. They moved to Daniels town, bought a home there. His old flat is rented out. Only her parents know the truthand theyll never tell.
Daniel doesnt work abroad anymore. He stays close to Emily and Charlie, who calls him Dad. They live for each other, so Charlie grows up happywith a mum and dad who love him
