Eager to Wed
Emma desperately wanted to marry well. Shed already had one disastrous attempt. Her twenty-year-old son, Oliver, was proof of that.
Years ago, her husband had been caught in an unforgivable betrayal. Emma had returned early from a business trip to find him half-dressed, hurriedly straightening the bedsheets in their bedroom. Meanwhile, her best friend was in the kitchen making coffeewearing Emmas dressing gown! A classic tale of infidelity. The divorce was swift. The treacherous friend was scrubbed from her life entirely. Emma refused to dwell on the sordid detailsguilt deserved punishment. She threw her husband out with his belongings and forbade Oliver from seeing him. Back then, Emma hadnt even turned thirty.
A decade passed. She earned first her masters, then her doctorate, and by forty, she was Dr. Emma Whitmore, head of the literature department at a prestigious university. Respected in her field, she never gave up hope of finding a worthy partner. She wasnt ready for knitting needles and cross-stitch just yet.
There had been suitors. Yet none had truly touched her heart. One proposed on their first date, borrowed money (“Were practically family!”), and vanished. Another, a widower, wanted a mother for his three young children. He invited her over to cook dinner for them all. Emma obliged, feeding the little ones before returning home in tears. She pitied themand their father, who seemed so lost. But she couldnt bear the weight of his ready-made family. “Maybe Im selfish,” she told herself.
Options dwindled with each passing year. Just as she was ready to give up, *he* appeared.
William, a former student. At twenty-eight, hed once sat in her lectures. After graduating, he stayed in London, setting up a small business. One day, Emma stopped to refuel her caronly to find William owned the petrol station. They chatted, reminiscing about university days, laughing. He handed her his card. Just in case. Soon, she visited weeklyostensibly to fill up. William began courting her: dinners, symphony concerts. Emma hesitated, doubting his sincerity. She turned him down every time.
But William persisted. She remembered him as a studentbright, diligent, standing out from the crowd. Fluent in English, strikingly handsome, hed turned heads wherever he went. Once, hed given her an intricately carved box with a note inside. Upon reading it, she flushed, then paled, tearing the paper to shreds. It read: *”Professor Whitmore, I love you.”* She shoved the box back at him, fleeing in outrage.
The next day, he knocked on her office door.
“Professor, forgive me. I never meant to offend you. I admire you deeply.”
Emma accepted his apology. “Very well, William. Off to class.”
He kept his distance after thatonly stealing glances. Now, history repeated itself. Torn, Emma wondered: Should she accept his affection or reject it? “Were just a man and a woman now. Why not take the chance?”
Finally, she surrendered to fate.
A whirlwind romance followed. Their first date was unforgettableWilliam was tender, witty, impossibly romantic. Age didnt matter; with him, she felt youthful, alive. She playfully anglicised his name to “Will,” while he called her “Emilia,” and she adored it. For the first time in years, she felt truly desired.
Yet Will never proposed. He planned to return to Nigeria. His family had already chosen a bridea girl of seventeen, from a respectable household. Emma couldnt leave England, not for an unknown future. What of Oliver? Her mother? Wills family would never accept a foreigner her age.
So, she poured all her love into their time together. “How much happiness do I have left? Scraps. Ill love him until he cant breathe!” she confessed to her mother.
Her mother was appalled. “Emma! Why this foreigner? Arent there enough Englishmen? Ill never bless this! Your ex-husband still begs for you. Have you not noticed? Forgive him! You have a son together!”
“Mum, *Daniel cheated*. Have you forgotten?”
“Good Lord, hes repented a hundred times! Besides, you neglected him with all your degrees. A man left alone is easy prey!”
“And why didnt you forgive *your* husband? He begged too.”
“Dont compare! First, he left before you were born. Second, he fathered three children elsewhere! Could I take a father from them? But your Daniels been alone ten years, waiting. Oliver adores him.”
Emma sighed. “I wont marry Will. Im too old for him. Ill wait until *he* leaves me.”
Her mother clicked her tongue. “Even an old mare fancies a taste of salt…”
Three years later, Will said goodbye. “Ill stay in touch, my love,” was all he promised.
Emma had braced herself, but bitterness still clawed at her as she imagined him with his young bride. At parting, he gave her the same carved box. Inside lay a ringtwo cherubs cradling a diamond heart.
“My heart stays with you, Emilia,” he murmured, kissing her fiercely.
He flew to Nigeria.
A year later, a wedding photo arrived: *”My wife, Amina.”* Another year, another: *”My second wife, Fatima.”* Will explained that polygamy was legal there. Emma felt no jealousy. What did naive girls know of deep, burning love? His sombre gaze in the photos gave her solace. Perhaps he still missed her.
But old love rusts when new love breezes in.
The fairy tale ended. Life moved on. Oliver married, bringing home a daughter-in-law. When their baby girl arrived, Emma asked them to name her Emiliaa keepsake of scorching, unforgettable love.
In time, she forgave Daniel. Or perhaps simply took pity. Her mothers persuasion helped: “Hes atoned. Who among us is sinless? Temptation walks among men, not trees.”
Now, Emma and Daniel share a quiet life, rarely apart. Shes taken up knitting, crafting tiny socks for little Emiliaadorned with delicate Nigerian patterns.
