Emily stood for a long while in the hallway, clutching the note with trembling fingers. The letters blurred before her eyes, yet each word cut 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 voice was flat, cold, utterly devoid of feeling.
No we. Only I.
Peter had always thought first of himself, but now it seemed he finally saw something else.
The soft whimper of baby Charlie brought her back to reality. The little boy stirred in his pram.
Life knocked.
She left the note on the cupboard and walked into the kitchenshe had to do something, lest everything collapse.
But another blow waited there.
On the table lay two wine glasses, a halffilled bottle, and a plate with dried cheese.
Across the back of the chair rested a silk scarf. It wasnt hers.
No further explanation was needed.
Emily took a deep breath. She didnt scream, she didnt cry. A cold resolve settled in her chest.
She cleared the table, washed the glasses, tossed the rubbish.
She wiped away every trace of him.
Then she opened the cupboard and pulled out a small boxmarriage certificate, seaside photographs, letters, cinema tickets. Everything that had ever meant us.
She flung the window open and hurled the box outside.
Below, something thudded and broke.
For the first time she felt a lift.
At dawn, Charlies cry woke her. The clock read five.
She sat up, pressed the infant close to her chest and felt an odd peacethe first in ages.
She wasnt alone. He was there.
Little, lively, warm Charlie the only real thing left to her.
Her body still ached, her hands shook with exhaustion. The money was running low.
Motherhood had not yet been translated into a paycheck, and the bills would not wait.
She reached for the phone. Her finger paused over Mum.
But a cold voice rang in her head:
I told you, Emily. He isnt the man for you. Now you have to choose yourself.
She set the phone down.
That same evening she descended to the basement, where the caretaker, Mr. Brown, allowed residents to leave old things.
In the corner sat an ancient baby carriage, rusted, wheels crooked.
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 loaf from the bakery on the corner.
The bakery.
She had once worked there, straight after college.
Her hands were always dusted with flour, her face flushed from the ovens, but then she had been happy.
Perhaps it was time to start again.
The next day she went to the bakery.
Everything had changednew sign, new owner.
When she explained she needed any jobcleaner, night shift, assistantthe roundbodied, kindly woman behind the counter studied her carefully.
Youve just had a baby, havent you? she asked.
Yes.
And your husband?
Hes not here.
The woman sighed.
Ive been through that too. Come in tomorrow at six. Lets see what you can do.
Emily left, tears threatening, not from sorrow but from gratitude.
For the first time in a long while no one turned her away.
A week later her hands were again scented with dough.
Sleepless nights, back pain, fatiguethese seemed small compared with the feeling that she could feed her son.
One afternoon, while delivering trays of buns, the door rang.
Emily looked up and froze.
Peter.
Shaved, wearing a new jacket, the same selfassured smile.
Emily he began. Ive thought a lot. I want to see my son. I want to come back.
Something stirred inside her, but it no longer hurt.
My son? Fine. Sunday, tenam, the park.
On Sunday he arrived a bouquet and a box of sweets.
Emily sat on a bench, the pram beside her.
Peter leaned over, peered inside and grinned.
Look at him just like me!
Emily met his gaze calmly.
No, she said softly. He looks like the one who never ran away. The one who was here every day while you werent even ringing.
Peter paled, but she was already standing.
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 sure.
When she got home she opened the window.
Fresh air rushed in, and Charlie laughed.
Emily sat beside him and whispered:
You know, little one, everything will be alright now.
And this time she truly believed it.
