Emma loved James with a ferocity that made her forgive him everything.
They wed when Emma was still a teenager, barely nineteen. She had been chasing James since she was sixteen, trying to look older than she was. At first he barely noticed her; she was just a small girl in his eyes. When she grew up, became strikingly beautiful, James finally thought, Why not take whats already drifting into my hands?
James was twentyfour; Emma was eighteen. Their relationship began strange, misaligned.
James would disappear for days, ignore his phone, refuse to answer messages. He would simply wander somewhere, then return as if nothing had happened, and Emma would always be there waiting. Tears fell, but James would tell her he loved only her. He claimed his nature was freespirited, that he hadnt had enough fun yet.
Emma clung to the hope that he would change, that one day he would love her as fiercely as she loved him.
Her childhood friend, Harry, had grown up on the same street, attended the same school. Harry had been secretly in love with Emma for years, but he knew she saw him only as a friend. It pained him to watch her undervalue herself, not realizing she deserved the very best. He understood that if Emma ever returned his feelings, he would move heaven and earth for her, yet he knew that would never happen. James had enchanted her, and Harry stayed in the background, invisible but ever present.
When James vanished again or started a needless argument, Emma would break down to Harry.
Why does he treat me like this? I love him so much
Maybe you should stop loving him, Harry snapped, anger flashing in his eyes.
I cant, you dont understand
Harry understood all too well. He would gladly give up his love for Emma, but he couldnt. He simply accepted her pain.
James grew increasingly reckless, drinking heavily and flirting openly with other women. In a desperate, foolish move, Emma became pregnant, naïvely believing a child would fix everything, that James would finally grow up, take responsibility, and cherish both her and the baby. She was nineteen when the news came. She told James, but his face showed no joy.
We should probably get married, she murmured, embarrassed, before anyone can see the baby bump.
Probably, James replied, his brow furrowed.
Why he finally agreed to tie the knot was unclearperhaps hope, perhaps foolishness. Emma felt like the happiest bride in the world. For Harry, that day was pure mourning; he watched Emma glowing with hope and wanted to snatch her away, lock her in his arms so she would finally see he was better than James. Yet he never acted on that impulse. He pretended to wish her happiness with her future husband while drowning his own sorrows in alcohol.
Emma and James welcomed a son, Thomas. At first James tried to be a decent father and husband: he stopped disappearing, cut back on nights out, helped with the baby, and stopped arguing with Emma.
But the peace was shortlived. When Thomas turned one, James fell back into old habits. He vanished for three days, leaving Emma frantic, calling hospitals, morgues, even her husbands friends. Harry was there again, watching Thomas, while Emma scoured every seedy pub and back alley searching for James. She even filed a police report before James finally staggered back, smelling of booze.
You dont have to answer to me, James barked, passing the kitchen. Thomas began to cry, but his father paid him no mind, his hangover gripping him tighter than any paternal instinct.
From that moment James stopped pretending. He would come and go, and each time Emma would take him back, still hoping hed change.
When Thomas was three, James left for good. At first Emma thought hed simply been out again, but after picking Thomas up from nursery, she found the house empty of his belongings.
A message waited on her phone: Ill file for divorce myself. Dont wait for me.
Emmas world shattered; she screamed, feeling life had lost its meaning. Harry rushed to her side the moment he heard, staying for a full day, looking after Thomas, making sure Emma didnt do anything reckless.
When Emma finally steadied herself, Harry spoke.
So, Ill be your husband now. And Thomass dad.
Emma looked at her old friend, shook her head.
Im sorry, but I dont love you that way. I love you as a friend, and Im grateful for everything youve done. As a man I just cant.
I know, Harry said flatly. But I love you beyond friendship. I wont let you suffer any longer.
Harry could find no words to soothe her, and Emma, broken, simply nodded, allowing him to stay.
Harry didnt force anything. He stayed, caring for Thomas as if he were his own son, never losing hope that Emma might one day see him as more than a friend. Emma watched Harrys devotion and realized no one else would love her child as fiercely as he did, nor care for her as she needed. She surrenderednot because she fell in love, but because she saw no other way out.
When Emma finally agreed to marry Harry, he was over the moon. The day Thomas first called him dad, Harry wept. Their family seemed perfect, the envy of neighbours. Sometimes Harry thought Emma might love him as a husband, not just a friend, yet other times dread that James might return, that Emma could abandon everything for her former, wayward spouse. He lived between two fires, rejoicing in their happiness one moment, waking at night from nightmares the next.
Then the nightmare became real. Thomas turned six, and Emma and Harry threw him a lavish birthday party. After Thomas and his friends bounced at the trampoline centre, they returned home to cake and presents. As Thomas blew out the candles, a knock sounded at the door.
Someone else here to wish you happy birthday? Emma smiled, stepping toward the doorway.
Ill get it, Harry said. He opened the door without looking through the peephole, and a cold dread wrapped around his heart.
James stood there, clutching a strange plush rabbit. He glared at Harry.
Still hanging around, eh? Wheres my son? James snarled. I came to wish him a happy birthday.
Whats going on, Harry? Emma shouted, rushing out of the kitchen, her face turning ashen. Thomas froze, then stared at James, then at Harry.
Dad, whos that? he asked, eyes wide.
Jamess expression darkened. He hadnt expected this.
Dad, apparently
Harry, take Thomas away, Emma snapped, voice trembling.
Emma please
The look in Jamess eyes was the same as the one that had once bewitched Emma. Harry knew one thing for certain: he would never give Thomas up. He was his father in every way that mattered.
Harry continued playing with Thomas in the living room, surrounded by piles of gifts. Yet his mind raced, listening for footsteps behind the door, waiting for Emma to signal that he should leave. She entered, hands shaking, her smile forced.
So, how are we doing? she asked, trying to sound casual.
Were playing! Thomas shouted, Did Uncle James leave?
No, weve already blown out the candles, and we havent even touched the cake yet!
Yes! the birthday boy yelled, dashing toward the kitchen. Harry grabbed Emmas elbow, looking at her.
Whats wrong? she whispered, halflaughing. Lets get Thomas before he smashes the whole cake. Otherwise well be paying the dentist later.
Emma
She pulled Harry into a quick, desperate kiss.
He wont be back. He isnt needed in Thomass life; he has a real father now.
And you? James muttered, his voice hoarse.
Me? I only need you.
Harry smiled, then led Emma back to the kitchen.
Perhaps the wild, reckless love of her youth had finally faded, replaced by a steadier, wiser affection. Harrys love had melted the ice around Emmas heart. She now knew she was truly happy, more than ever before. The frantic passion of her past remained just thatpast, with nothing good left in it.
