Brazen Ultimatum
Its all your fault! You! You! You!
Her cry pierced the stillness of the streetraw, urgent, cracking into a shrill wail as it spilled from her lips. Her face was contorted with pain and anger, tears streaming unbidden down flushed cheeks, drawing glistening tracks. But she seemed oblivious to her own suffering, lost entirely to the flames of fury. With a sudden movement, she lunged at the young man, arms trembling as if she might seize his coat and shake the sense back into him. Her long fingers curled and uncurled spasmodically, her gaze burning so fiercely the pain in her eyes made Tom falter for a heartbeat.
He sidestepped her desperate reach, brow furrowing, and gave a barely perceptible twirl at his temple in disbelief. How could she heap every ounce of blame at his feet? A surge of irritation rose in his chest, mingling with confusion.
If not for you, my daughter would still be well… the woman gasped, her voice torn ragged by sobs. Her shoulders shook violently as she tried to steady herself, words ripped from her throat as though each one cost agony. You ruined her life! You did!
Thats just how you see it, Tom shot back, his face hardening, voice cold as a London fog. Now he recognised the woman before himthe mother of Emily. But her accusations they were wildly unjust! It made his blood boil. I never forced her into anything. All of it was her choice, you understand? Emily wanted attention, but she just couldnt get it the way she hoped.
Dont you dare speak ill of her! This is all your doing! she shrieked again, surging forward.
But this time, her son, a tall young man with hollow eyes and a drained, pale face, stepped in. Dark circles shadowed his gazehe looked like exhaustion itself. He almost physically steered his mother away, gripping her elbow firmly, murmuring comfort hed said a thousand times before.
Mum, please… thats enough, he murmured, quietly resoluteclearly a veteran of this wearisome scene. Lets just go. Please, dont do this.
Shes lying in hospital and you havent even given this wretch a piece of your mind? the woman raged, struggling against her sons restraint, voice trembling with the depth of her despair. You shouldve knocked a few teeth out! How dare he treat Emily like this?
And whats any of this got to do with me? the son muttered, half turning away, bitterness creeping into his voice as if hed surrendered to these accusations long ago. You should have brought Emily up betterthat way, maybe none of this wouldve happened!
A clear, mocking voice suddenly piped up from the side: Whats going on? This sounds… fascinating!
Tom groaned inwardly. Of all people, why did it have to be Chloe? Chloe was queen gossip at the universityshe knew everyones secrets, and remembered the tiniest slip-ups from years back. Even the lecturers tiptoed around her, afraid shed dredge up some embarrassing incident from their past.
Now Chloe was only a few steps away, eyes aglitter with curiosity, lips curled in a knowing smile, fingers drumming restlessly on her shoulder bag. She seemed determined not to budge until the whole story was hers.
Go on, spill it! Chloe nudged closer, tilting her head, her smile sly and sharp. Ill just make up my own version anyway, and you know how good my imagination is…
Tom exhaled heavily, scrubbing a hand through his hair, glancing at Emilys mother and brother who had finally withdrawn, still bickering in strained undertones. He knew there would be no shaking Chloe off.
You won’t let this go, will you? he asked, tired resignation in his eyes.
She shook her head, her gaze becoming almost hungry for the drama, already rehearsing how shed retell this to her own audience.
Fine, listen, he relented quietly. But you have to promise not to tell a soul. Its not a pretty story, and I really dont want it making the rounds. We have a deal?
~~~~~~~~~~
It started a few weeks ago. Tom had known for some time that things with Emily were slippingsliding down a path he never wanted. Each day, that feeling grewlike talking not to a person, but to a black hole that devoured all attention, always hungering for proof of love, as if words and gestures were never enough.
To be fair, Tom was simply exhaustedworn down by endless tantrums and complaints. If anything strayed from Emilys imagined script, shed eruptclaiming she couldnt go on, that nothing made sense anymore. The worst were the constant threats to do herself harm. At first, Tom panicked, tried to comfort her, took her words to heart. But soon he realisedthese were levers, ways to keep him where she wanted. With each scene, he could feel something splintering inside: his patience, his belief in her sincerity, maybe even his empathy. He caught himself, more and more, simply not caring as he once did.
And recently? The threats had multiplied. It seemed daily there was some new accusationTom’s reply to her message was too slow, hed looked at the wrong girl on campus, or forgotten a simple I love you before bed. And always came graphic descriptions of what shed do if he left her, chillingly detailed, as if rehearsed. Tom realised he knew the script by heart: the weeping, the rage, the threats, then pleading for forgiveness, promising to changebefore lapsing into an anxious, expectant silence. He was sick of the cycle, of feeling forever on a hook.
One evening, without warning, Emily turned up at Toms flat. He was at his desk when a rapid succession of aggressive buzzes rang out. Peering through the peephole, there she was: angry, wild, having certainly just read his break-up message. Her cheeks were aflame, eyes fever-bright, hands trembling almost violently.
Tom! You cant do this to me! she screamed, pounding on the door. Her voice cracked, desperate, almost unintelligible. If you leave me, Ill do something to myself! You hear me? Im not kidding!
Tom stood silently on the other side, jaw clenched so tightly his molars ached. Inside him, two instincts warred: a desire to open the door, to hold her, to soothe her frayed nerves, to tell her it would be alrightand a hard, cold voice reminding him: once she gets inside, itll be hours of tears, accusations and threats again. Hed had enough.
Its time you got real help, Tom finally called out through the door, harsher than he intendedirritation and exhaustion peeking through. Seriously, Emily. You need to see someone. And I wont take responsibility for any of these stunts, got it? Were done!
Tom! Dont you dare! Emily howled, her voice cracking as she lashed out at the door with her foot, immediately wincing at the pain. She whimpered, balled her fists, drew in a shaky breath, trying to pull herself together. Tom, please, just open up! Talk to me! Just for a minute!
Just then, the gentle scrape of footsteps sounded on the landing. Mrs Turner, the elderly neighbour, was making her careful way upwhite hair pinned in a neat bun, glasses perched on her nose, her gaze openly disapproving.
Go home, love, she scolded, stopping at a safe distance. It isnt right for a young lady to throw herself at a mans door. Wheres your sense of dignity? Is that how you think respectable girls behave?
As if I need your opinion! Emily flashed back, chin jutting defiantly. But inside, her confidence waveredthe womans words cut deeper than Emily admitted. A flicker of shame passed through her, but pride kept her standing tall. She whirled, lips pursed, tossed a harsh word or two over her shoulder, though her voice had lost its edge.
She stalked out, high heels clattering down the stairs, cheeks burning with fury and humiliationat both Mrs Turners words and Toms refusal. But underneath, plans were already forming. This wasnt how their story would end. Tom couldnt just walk awayshe wouldnt allow it! In her minds eye, she replayed familiar fantasies: them standing in the registry office, her in the white lace dress shed admired weeks agohow perfectly it draped to the floor… And that ringa delicate sparkler in the jewellers window, diamond flashing like rainbows in the afternoon sun.
He wont get rid of me that easily, she resolved, clattering down the steps. Hell see just how serious I am.
A few hours later, Toms phone beeped. He was alone in his kitchen, nursing a mug of cold tea, trying to will away the evenings mess, when the screen lit up. Emilys message read like a frayed nerve, full of drama, yet insisted she didnt blame him. She rambled on about how much she loved him, how she just couldnt imagine life alone. The text was rushed, disjointed, franticexclamation marks everywhere. Tom knew she didnt drink, so it was never the drink.
The last line begged him to come overshe was scared to be on her own. Tom read it twice more, then slumped in his chair, rubbing his brow with a sigh. Pulled between concernwhat if she really was in trouble?and that iron certainty: yet another ploy for attention. He knew her tricks all too well.
If I cave now, he thought, shell never let go. Shell see Im vulnerable, and hold that over me forever.
After a long, silent minute, Tom pulled up his contacts and dialled Emilys mother. He calmly explained the situation and forwarded the messages. Within moments, the woman replied, clearly alarmed, promising to rush over at once. Tom leaned back, exhalingat least now someone else could take the reins.
With that, he buried himself in exam prep. There was precious little time left and mountains of material to cover. Before settling in, he switched off his phoneanything for focus, for a taste of quiet. He had no idea what was playing out elsewhere that night.
The hours sped by. Tom flicked through notes, jotted key facts, forced the dates and names into his memory. Fatigue built in his bones, but he couldnt slowthis exam mattered too much.
It was late, deep into the night, when he finally finished. Stretching out aching shoulders, he flicked his phone back on. At once, the screen flooded with notificationsmessages, missed calls, nearly all from Emilys mother.
A chill laced his spine as he read the first text. The message was blunt, almost curt: Emilys in hospital. The doctors were in time. Shes safe now.
He froze, stunnedthe threat had been real, not just a bid for pity. The memory hit him hard: Emily outside his door, hands shaking, tears streaming, voice breaking. Her eyes used to be so full of sparknow distant, unreachable.
He gripped the phone as tremors shook his hands. Shame, helplessness, confusion all tangled inside him. He blamed his own harshness, yet recalled all those dramas and threats that hed stopped believing long ago.
Lost in thought, Toms phone buzzed again. Another messagethis one like a punch to the gut: This is your fault! You drove her to this! He clenched his fist till his knuckles ached, heart pounding. He sucked in a lungful of air, willing the panic to subside, but those words just echoed louder.
Tom dialled Emilys mother, bracing himself, fingers trembling on the keys.
You get down to the hospital and beg her forgiveness! the woman shouted, voice raw with anguish and wrath. Tom pictured her: haggard, weeping, pacing a cold NHS corridor, eyes swollen red. Yet resentment simmered in himher blame absurd, her demands unreasonable.
And what else would you have me do? Tom replied, voice shaking with restrained anger. I wont beg forgiveness for something I didnt do. I begged her to get help, because her behaviour… its not normal. She refused. Why must I throw away my life for the sake of a spoilt girl?
You have to! You put her there! You pushed her too far! she screamed, hysteria rising.
I dont want to carry on this conversation! Tom cut her off, firmly. Emily played at this, dont you see? If she truly meant to hurt herself, she wouldnt have sent those messages asking me to come. Shed have… done it, without warning. Goodbye. Please, dont call me again. He steadied himself, breathing deep, trying to steady the shaking in his hands, pressing back into the wall until his breathing slowed.
Listen, the mother would not be placated, her voice buzzing through the speaker, raw with pleading. If you dont marry her… things will get worse, dont you see? Marry herand itll all come right again. I swear it. Thats the only way shell recover. You must do this. For her. For all of us. She needs youshell never be herself again otherwise. Surely you can see how much shes suffering?
Tom went still, stunned by the simplicity and madness of her proposal. To marry, under threat? Rage flushed into his cheeks; he felt cornered, forced into responsibility for anothers inner chaos.
Are you serious? he whispered, anger swelling. Youd have me marry your daughter… because she threatened this? Thats blackmailpure and simple!
Dont call it that! she wailed, voice unsteady. I just want to save my girl! You broke her, you have to fix her! Can you imagine what its like? To watch your child wasting away, day by day, shrinking, never smiling, just… fading? Her whole world is youwithout you, shes lost!
And you think with me shell be alright? Tom retorted, louder than he meant. Anger pulsed through him, though he tried to rein it in. You think a ring will suddenly make things better? That marriage will cure her? This isnt love, its suffocationits an illness! I wont spend my life as her therapist and keeper. Thats not my role, and I wont play it.
You just dont understand! her voice broke, dissolving into tears. Shell change, truly she will! I know my girl, shes just lost. She needs support, and youre the only one who can be that. Walk away now, and youll carry this guilt for the rest of your life! Youll be to blame for everything that happens to her.
Toms fists shook as he closed his eyes, forcing his breath even. Her words stabbed deep, reawakening guilt and regret. He had loved Emily, onceworried for her, cared. But he knew, fiercely, that to give in now would mean years trapped in an agony with no rescue, no peace, no hope.
I will not marry your daughter, he said, each word measured and unwavering. Not now, not ever. I wont sacrifice my life on the altar of someone elses delusion of rescue. Emily needs to face this, with true help, from proper professionals. I cantand wontbe her doctor and nursemaid. Thats not for me.
Youre heartless! came the replyher voice heavy with hurt. Youve destroyed my girl, and now you run away when she needs you most! You have no idea what youre doing… Shell never recover, thanks to you. Youre taking away her last chance!
Her last chance is to see a counsellor, not to cling desperately to someone whos made it clear this isnt working, Tom answered coolly, forcing down the storm within. Youd do far better helping her to accept this, rather than driving us into a doomed marriage. Itll only make things worse. For both of us.
She fell silent at the other end. Tom could just make out the sound of her crying, struggling for words, then falling quiet again.
You never even loved her, she murmured, her voice bitter, hollowa charge that pierced Tom to the core.
I never led Emily on, Tom answered slowly, pausing between each word. And there was a time I loved her, yes. But love isnt meant to be torture. Not for either of us. She tried to hold on by any means, even threats. I tried to survive under the pressure, in the shadow of constant drama. That isnt right, for her, or for me. We both deserve better.
Youre just a coward, the mother spat, voice cold as steel. Afraid to take responsibility. To step up for someone who needs you!
Im afraid of ruining two lives, instead of one, Tom replied, finding a newfound strength. Afraid this marriage you want wont rescue her, just trap both of us. For her, itll mean she never learns to cope. For me, itll mean losing my freedom, my happiness, everything. It isnt right. Goodbye. Please, dont ring me again demanding this.
He ended the call and let his phone clatter to the table, as if it weighed a stone. His hands shook, a storm of emotion rushing through himanger at the pressure and ultimatums, stung by unfair blame, pity for Emily and her mother, guilt that he couldnt give them what they wanted. He pressed palms to his face, leaned back in the chair, and shut his eyes, counting his breath until a measure of calm returned. Again and again, until his heart slowed and the turmoil faded. Gradually, he straightened, the heaviness beginning, at last, to lift…
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thats everything, Tom finished, staring out the window at an overcast London sky, its grey hue deepening as evening set in. His voice sounded muffled, stripped of all liveliness, and his shoulders slumped, as if the whole weight of recent days pressed down on him. He ran a hand through his hair, as though to brush off the last stubborn cobwebs of memory. By the way, Emilys brother agrees with me. He saw this comingshes always used peoples sympathy, just never so… drastic before.
Chloe was silent for a moment, absently wrapping a strand of her hair round her finger. She tipped her head, studying Tom with rare sympathyher usual appetite for gossip replaced by something softer. For the first time, there wasnt an ounce of mischief or curiosityjust understanding, maybe even respect.
Youve had awful luck in love, she said quietly, voice gentle. And her mum sounds like a nightmare, too. But youre right. Marrying under pressure will only lead to hell. Emily has to learn to stand on her own, and her motherits not right to fix things through force. That wont help. All itll do is make it worse. My advice? Block their numbersdont engage at all. Otherwise, theyll keep pulling at your heartstrings, looking for weaknesses. Youll never be freetheyll just get used to you being there, no matter how often you try to leave.
Thats just what I plan to do, Tom said quietly, a hint of relief seeping into his tone at last. He straightened his back, breathed deep and slow, as if sloughing off the weight of it all. For the first time in ages he felt like he could breathe again, properly, and maybe, just maybe, he could begin with something like hope.
