**Staring Into the Void**
Tom and Emily got married when they were just 19. They couldnt live or breathe without each otherit was that kind of wild, reckless love. So, their parents quickly arranged everything to make it official, just to avoid any “trouble.” The wedding was lavish, the kind people rememberflowers everywhere, fireworks, a grand reception hall, the works.
Emilys parents couldnt chip in financiallythey barely scraped by as it was, their paychecks only covering cheap meals and, well, the pub. So, the grooms mum, Alexandraor Sandra, as she preferredfooted the bill. Sandra had tried to warn Tom about Emilys family, about how the apple never falls far from the tree. But what could she do? Tom swore Emily was different, that their love would outweigh any “bad blood.”
At first, life was sweet. Sandra and her husband even gifted them a flat”Live and be happy, kids!” Emily gave birth to two girls, Sophie and Lily, and Tom doted on them. He was proud, the man of his own little kingdom.
But before five years had passed, Emily started vanishing for hours. When she did come home, Tom could smell the drink on her. He begged for an explanation, and when she finally spoke, it was brutal: shed never loved him, she said. Just a silly crush. Now shed found her *real* soulmatea married man with three daughters of his own.
Tom was gutted. Meanwhile, Emily ran off with this bloke to some backwater village, leaving the kids behind. Sandra, sharp as a tack and twice as quick, took the girls in without hesitation. She spoiled them rotten, loved them fiercely.
Tom, lost and heartbroken, stumbled into a culta mates bad advice. They pushed him into marrying a widow with two sons, then “blessed” the union in their own strange way. His new wife, Karen, drowned him in her own problems. If he ever mentioned Sophie or Lily, shed snap, “*Their* mums still alivelet *her* deal with them. Take Oliver to football practice, will you?”
Tom obeyed. He still loved Emily, but the bridge was burned.
Then, seven years later, Emily showed up at Sandras door with a four-year-old girl in tow. Sandra eyed her coldly. “Blimey, lifes done a number on you. This yours?”
“Yeah, my daughter, Maisie. Can we stay a bit?” Emily shuffled awkwardly.
“Did he chuck you out?” Sandra pressed.
“No, I left. He drinks. Hits me. I couldnt take it.”
“Your choice, love. Why not run back to *your* parents?”
“I missed the girls,” Emily murmured, knowing Sandras soft spot.
“Bit late for that, cuckoo.”
The doorbell rangSophie and Lily, now teenagers, stepped in. They stared at their mother, no warmth in their eyes. Just resentment. Of course, Sandra let Emily staywhat else could she do?
But a month later, Emily vanished *again*. Back to her “sweet tormentor,” leaving Maisie behind. Now Sandra had three granddaughters to raise. The house was full of love, thoughkindness, respect.
Years flew. Sandra passed, then her husband. Sophie married, but no kids came. Lily stayed single, grey streaks in her hair before shed even thought of settling down. Maisie had a baby at 17no clue who the dad wasthen bolted to live with Emily in that godforsaken village.
As for Emily? Her bloke got sick, his daughters dragged him back to the city, blaming *her* for his ruin. The village gossips called her a shameless drunk.
Tom? He escaped Karen and the cult, a shell of himself. Lived in his mums old flat, surviving on scraps, sleeping alonejust three cats for company.
Happiness had knocked once. They hadnt answered.
