**October 5th**
The rain in Manchester fell in icy sheets, hammering against the rooftops as though mourning the end of summer. The sound startled Emily awake. Outside, dawn had yet to break, though the clock read nearly seven. She lay still, staring at the blurred window where the downpour melted the world beyond into a watercolour of greys.
Should she send Lily to school in this? Maybe let her sleep—she’d had a slight cough yesterday.
“Bloody freezing,” Emily muttered, curling tighter under the duvet.
She still expected to hear James’ voice in the mornings, though he’d been gone for months. The heating hadn’t kicked in yet, and the chill seeped into her bones. She tugged the covers higher, willing sleep to return. But guilt nagged—Lily couldn’t skip school forever.
With a sigh, she flicked the kettle on, roused Lily, and scrounged for breakfast. The fridge was nearly empty—no cheese, no ham for toast. Just jam on stale bread. These days, even grocery shopping felt like too much effort. The fridge had been half-barren for weeks.
Once Lily was bundled in her coat, Emily shut the door behind her and hunted for her favourite scarf—the one with magnolia blossoms. When she couldn’t find it, she crawled back under the duvet.
The rain thickened her loneliness, the kind that hadn’t lifted since James left. They’d met briefly to sort the divorce, then nothing. He still transferred child support, still called Lily, still took her out. But Emily avoided him, terrified one glance would crumble the fragile wall she’d built.
She told herself she was fine—smiled at colleagues, got a new haircut, even dyed it. But was she?
At first, she’d wanted to purge the flat of anything that reminded her of James. Yet his things remained: souvenirs, his aftershave, that ridiculous mug reading “World’s Best Dad.” Removing them hurt, but the pain was perversely comforting. Wallowing had become ritual.
Every clean-up unearthed relics. A bracelet from Brighton, bought after they climbed the pier only to find a tacky gift shop. The headphones he’d given her for Mother’s Day, joking, “Women love music more than diamonds, and these won’t bankrupt me.”
And the scent. His aftershave clung to her jumpers, her scarves. For a heartbeat, it transported her back—family, dreams, laughter. Then it faded, and reality returned. No family. No dreams. Just routine: work, Lily, the empty flat.
She avoided their mutual friends. Their pitying looks, the inevitable, “Such a shame—you two were perfect.”
She didn’t need reminding.
She was sure James had someone new—why else would he have left? His offshore job, once their salvation (mortgage paid, car bought), had stolen him.
She still remembered the call. A woman’s voice, dripping with false sympathy: “I’m so sorry, but your husband’s been unfaithful.” James hadn’t denied it. Just sat on the sofa, head in his hands, silent. Then he left for his parents’.
The next day, while Lily was at school, he returned.
“Emily, I can’t live without you. It was a mistake. If we start over, can you forgive me?”
“No, James,” she’d said, voice steady. “We promised honesty. You broke that. Go.”
It was quiet, almost clinical. He explained things to Lily, moved his things out, and returned to the rig. And surely, that woman was there—the one he’d left them for. Emily didn’t want details. The caller had tried to explain, but Emily blocked her. Why invite more hurt?
Four months alone, proving she could manage. She never asked about James. He was likely happy with his new flame.
But his parents—especially his dad, Robert—were kind. Robert had welcomed her from the start, drawing her into conversations, making her feel part of the family. He understood her better than most.
She suspected he’d urged James’ mum to stay out of their mess, not beg for forgiveness. They accepted the divorce but still treated her and Lily as family.
That rainy afternoon, someone knocked. Wrapped in her dressing gown, Emily opened the door to Robert.
“Hello, love.”
“Robert! Come in—let me put the kettle on.”
She didn’t know why he’d come. There was no reason.
“Don’t fuss,” he said gently. “Sit. Let me tell you a story. James was six when me and his mum split.”
“Split?” Emily frowned. “But you’re…”
“Back together now, yes. Even remarried. But for years, we lived apart—had another kid while divorced. Why? Because I fancied someone else. A lass from the factory. I left, thought it’d fix everything. Couldn’t live without my family. And James… he can’t live without you.”
“Can’t?” She laughed bitterly. “He’s got his ‘lass.’”
“There is no one,” Robert said. “He quit that job straight after. Lives with us but barely sleeps. You don’t know this, but he walks past your flat every night. And that scarf of yours—the magnolia one? He carries it in his pocket. Saw him with it—nearly broke me. He’s suffering, Emily. Loves you. His mum’s beside herself, scared he’ll drown in drink…”
Robert fell silent, sipping his tea. This wasn’t like him—meddling. But his son was breaking.
“Right, I’ll go,” he said, standing. “Your choice, love. Forgiveness isn’t easy. But a man who messes up once learns. James has. Won’t risk losing you again. Don’t tell him I came, eh?”
Emily nodded.
After he left, she lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Forgive betrayal? How? Once a cheater… The more she thought, the surer she was—she couldn’t. Living with him would hurt too much.
That evening, rain lashed harder as she returned from work. Helping Lily with homework, she kept slipping up.
“Mum, what’s wrong?” Lily asked.
“Just need air.”
“Are you mad? It’s pouring!”
“I’ll take an umbrella.”
By the playground, an old oak stood nearly bare. Beneath it, a man hunched against the trunk, soaked through. He didn’t move—as if punishing himself with the cold. Under his jacket, he clutched a scarf. His car sat nearby, but he stayed.
“James.”
At first, he thought it was the rain.
“James!”
He turned. Emily stood before him. All the words he’d practised vanished.
“Come home,” she said softly. “Let’s have tea. You’ll catch your death out here.”
“Emily, I—your scarf. Took it by mistake.”
“My scarf? Glad it’s safe.” She took a breath. “Let’s try again.”
James wasn’t eloquent, but his eyes held enough regret to move her.
“I love you. Both of you. Thank you.”
Maybe the scarf could be their fresh start. Maybe the rain could wash the rest away.
