Emily stirred a pot of hearty mushroom soup while James settled onto the sofa after dinner, flipping through the telly. The phone rang abruptly, and he picked up.
“Mum just called—Dad’s taken ill,” his mother’s voice trembled. “They’re admitting him to hospital. Come quickly.”
Without a second thought, James packed his things and left that very night. Emily stayed behind with their daughter, little Sophie—the girl had a bit of a cold, and what would they even do at the hospital?
James’s mum barely left his father’s side. Left to his own devices, James wandered the streets of his hometown in the evenings, breathing in the crisp autumn air. After one hospital visit, he was walking home when a woman with a pram stopped ahead of him. He looked closer and froze. It was Christine—his first love from school.
He’d fallen for her the moment he saw her—quiet, delicate, almost ethereal. At the Christmas dance, trembling, he’d asked her for a waltz. She’d been untouchable. A dream. His parents disapproved, especially his mum. *Too fragile, not of this world. Not a wife, just a mystery.* They insisted he leave for university in another city. He obeyed. In his dorm, he pinned up an old photo of her. But life moved on—other girls, new feelings, growing up. Then came Emily. Easy, steady, safe. They married, had Sophie, and James loved his family—his anchor, his happiness.
And now here Christine stood, just as sad and graceful. Only now, with a child. Unmarried—he knew it instantly by her tone, her gaze. His chest tightened.
They talked like no time had passed. He walked her home, helped carry the baby. She still lived in her parents’ flat. Before he left, she invited him inside.
The next morning, James dropped his mum at the hospital, bought roses, and went to Christine’s. She greeted him quietly, put the flowers in a vase, offered tea. In the tiny kitchen, their eyes met. He leaned in—their lips touched. She didn’t pull away. She held him. For a moment, James forgot everything.
Then her baby cried. Christine hurried away, leaving him dazed.
“I should go,” he muttered, heading for the door.
“She’s asleep by ten… Come back after then,” she whispered.
It sounded like an invitation, a chance—and a danger. Outside, his mind raced. Once, he’d have given anything to hear those words. But now? If he went back, everything would change. He was a grown man. He had a family. Guilt settled heavy over him.
That evening, his mum said his dad was improving—he could go home. James kissed his father goodbye, promised to visit with Emily and Sophie, and left that night. On the train, sleep wouldn’t come. He pictured Christine waiting by the window. But he told himself it wasn’t betrayal—just a memory of the boy who’d once loved her madly.
Dawn broke as he arrived home. Emily was making porridge, surprised but happy to see him. Sophie squealed, “Daddy!” and he knew—this was his real life.
At Christmas, they visited his parents. Walking through town, they saw Christine again. James smiled, said hello—then hurried to catch up with his girls.
He couldn’t remember now why he’d loved Christine so much. Why that schoolboy crush had felt so powerful.
All he knew was this—he was glad he’d left that autumn night. Glad he hadn’t betrayed them. Because Christine was just a ghost of his youth. Real love was here, at home, where he was wanted.