Emily stood in the hallway for what felt like ages, clutching the note with trembling fingers. The letters smeared together, yet each word cut her like a knife.
Emily, Im sorry. Im not ready for this. I cant be a father. I cant live like this. Im leaving. Dont look for me. The words were flat, cold, devoid of feeling.
No we. Only I.
James had always put himself first, but now
The soft whimper of baby Charlie pulled her back to reality. The little boy shifted in his cot.
Life was calling.
She left the note on the wardrobe and went to the kitchenshe had to do something or everything would collapse.
But the next blow waited there.
On the table lay two wine glasses, a bottle halffull, and a plate with dried cheese.
On the back of a chair rested a womans scarf. It wasnt hers.
No further explanation was needed.
Emily inhaled deeply. She didnt scream, didnt weep. A cold resolve settled over her from the inside.
She cleared the table, washed the glasses, tossed the rubbish.
She erased every trace of him.
Then she opened the cupboard and pulled out a small boxmarriage certificate, seaside photos, letters, cinema tickets. Everything that once meant us.
She opened the window and threw the box outside.
Below something thudded and cracked.
For the first time she felt relief.
At dawn Charlie woke her with a cry. The clock read five.
She sat on the bed, pressed the baby to her chest, and felt a strange peacethe first in a long while.
She wasnt alone. He was there.
The small, lively, warm Charlie was the only real thing she still had.
But her body ached, her hands trembled with fatigue. Money was running low.
Motherhood hadnt been turned into a paycheck, and the bills wouldnt wait.
She lifted the phone. Her finger hovered over Mum.
A cold voice echoed in her head:
I told you, Emily. Hes not the man for you. Now you choose alone.
She put the phone down.
That evening she went down to the cellar, where the building manager, Mr. Thompson, let residents store old things.
In the corner sat an old baby carriage, dirty, its wheels bent.
Emily cleaned it, patched the tyres and gently placed Charlie inside.
For the first time in days she stepped outside.
The autumn morning smelled of smoke and warm breadfrom the corner bakery.
The bakery.
She had once worked there, straight after finishing college.
Her hands were always dusted with flour, her face flushed from the oven, but then she had been happy.
Perhaps it was time to start again.
The next day she went to the bakery.
Everything was differenta new sign, a new owner.
When she explained she needed any jobcleaner, night shift, assistantthe woman behind the counter, round and kindly, studied her closely.
Just had a baby, didnt you? she asked.
Yes.
And your husband?
Hes not around.
The woman sighed.
Ive been there myself. Come tomorrow at six. Lets see how you manage.
Emily left, on the verge of tearsnot from sorrow, but from gratitude.
For the first time in ages no one turned her away.
A week later her hands again smelled of dough.
Sleepless nights, back pain, exhaustion seemed small compared with the feeling that she could feed her son.
One afternoon, while carrying trays of scones, the door rang.
Emily looked upand froze.
James.
Shaved, in a new coat, the same selfassured grin.
Emily he began. Ive thought a lot. I want to see my son. I want to come back.
Something shifted inside her, but it no longer hurt.
Your son? Fine. Sunday, ten a.m., in the park.
On Sunday he arrivedwith a bouquet and a box of sweets.
Emily sat on a bench, the pram beside her.
James leaned in, peered inside and smiled.
Look at him just like me!
Emily looked calmly.
No, she said softly. He looks like the one who never ran away. The one who was here every day while you barely called.
James paled, but she was already rising.
Do you see, she added, he doesnt need a man who runs. Neither do I.
She pushed the pram down the path, not looking back.
For the first time in months her stride was confident.
When she got home, she opened the window.
Fresh air flooded the room, and Charlie laughed.
Emily sat beside him and whispered:
Little one, everything will be alright now.
And this timeshe truly believed it.
True strength comes not from chasing those who leave, but from caring for the ones who stay.
