**Run or Stay**
Emily swung the door open and froze at the sight of her daughter Sophie standing with an unfamiliar young man, who offered her a slightly awkward but warm smile.
“Mum, hi! This is James,” Sophie babbled, as if afraid the silence might stretch too long. “Thought it was time you met. Is Dad home?” She nudged the lad forward. “Come on, Jamie, don’t be shy—my parents are lovely!”
“Pleased to meet you,” James murmured, stepping over the threshold with polite hesitation.
Emily, eager to ease the tension, gave a reassuring nod and smiled.
“Mum, sorry for dropping in unannounced,” Sophie rattled on, “we’ll just have a quick cuppa and dash off to the cinema.”
James held himself with quiet politeness—smiling faintly, keeping the chat light, never letting the quiet turn uncomfortable.
“Mum, where’s Dad? Wanted him to meet Jamie too,” Sophie asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Where else would he be? In the garage, of course,” Emily replied with a faint chuckle. “Fussing over the car again. Says he needs to shampoo the seats, hoover the carpets. You know him—won’t trust a car wash if his life depended on it.”
Soon enough, Sophie and James made their excuses to leave. The lad thanked her for the tea, said his goodbyes with impeccable manners.
“What a polite boy,” Emily thought, shutting the door behind them, though an uneasy feeling settled in her chest.
Sophie was in her third year at uni now. Grown-up. Emily hadn’t even noticed the years slipping by. Lately, her daughter asked more questions—what to do, which path to take, how to avoid mistakes. Emily did her best to answer, though sometimes she’d simply shrug and say,
“Sophie, not everything in life’s black and white. Sometimes fate throws you a curveball just to remind you—timing’s everything.”
Fate had a funny way of doing as it pleased. Emily, married to Simon for over twenty years, had spent half that time standing at crossroads. She still remembered how her mate Lucy had introduced them.
“Em, this is Simon, my Dave’s mate,” Lucy had said, steering her toward a tall, gawky bloke who looked like he’d wandered into the wrong party. “They work together. Dave’s been dying to set him up with someone. Right, I’ll leave you to it,” she winked before vanishing into the crowd.
The student union bash was in full swing. Emily and Lucy were in their final year, and Lucy and Dave were already planning their wedding. Simon, though, seemed hopelessly out of place—hunched slightly as if embarrassed by his height, glancing around like he was planning an escape.
“So, Simon, where d’you study?” Emily ventured.
“Don’t. Been working as a mechanic a couple years,” he replied, eyes darting sideways. “Did my stint in the army before that.”
“Odd,” Emily thought. “Finished service, yet still so… unsure. Usually army lads come back all swagger.” Her cousin had returned from his tour, broad-shouldered and brimming with confidence.
“Me and Dave served together, kept in touch after,” Simon went on. “Got jobs at the same garage. So—you’re at uni with Lucy, then?”
He met her eyes then, and his grin—simple, almost boyish—made Emily smile back before she could stop herself. Still, deep down, she’d already decided: he wasn’t for her. If someone had told her then he’d be her husband one day, she’d have laughed in their face.
But you can’t outrun fate. Life would be tediously predictable if we knew what waited round the corner. Simon kept asking her out, and every time Emily thought, “This’ll be the last one. One more pint, then that’s it.” But she never quite said no. Partly, she pitied the harmless, gangly lad. And partly—well, there wasn’t anyone else she fancied more.
“Em, how’s it going with Simon?” Lucy would prod.
“Oh, alright,” Emily would shrug. “Dunno how we got here, really.”
They were at Lucy and Dave’s wedding—Emily and Simon as bridesmaid and groomsman. Emily had graduated, landed a decent job. Yet somehow, Simon stayed. She’d grown used to him, started noticing how reliable he was. Eventually, she confided in her mum.
“Mum, you’ve met Simon,” Emily began. “He’s brought up marriage, and I’m—I don’t know. He’s kind, looks after me, but… he’s not exactly bookish, is he? Barely reads. I mean—”
“Love, stop overthinking it,” her mum cut in. “Doesn’t read? Big deal. He’s loyal, treats you like you hung the moon. You’ll grow into each other. Education isn’t everything.”
And so Simon, red-faced and fumbling with a little velvet box, made his proposal.
“Emily… will you marry me?” he blurted, staring at his shoes.
Emily studied the ring, then grinned.
“Alright. Where’s my bouquet, though?” She slid the ring on while Simon blinked in panic.
“Oh, Em—I forgot! I’ll get you flowers, promise—the biggest bunch you’ve ever seen!”
Later, Emily would wonder: “How on earth did I end up marrying him? He’s so… ordinary.” Maybe it was because all her mates were pairing off, and she didn’t fancy being left behind. She’d always been pretty—though convinced she was “a bit too curvy,” not that it ever—
