**A Chat by the Gazebo**
Emily was walking down the street of a small town when suddenly the rain began—first in heavy drops, then pouring. Spotting the nearest bus stop, she covered her head with her handbag and dashed toward it.
«Ugh, this rain is pointless—I’ll be soaked in no time,» she thought.
As she rushed inside the shelter, she collided with a man. Looking up, she froze.
«Matthew?»
«That’s right, didn’t you recognise me? It’s me,» he said, embracing her with a smile.
Just then, a pregnant woman stood up from the bench nearby and slipped her arm around Matthew’s waist. «Met someone you know?»
Emily’s face fell. Without a word, she spun around, saw a bus approaching, and jumped on—it didn’t matter where it was going, as long as it was away.
«Of course. Married again, and already expecting. And yet he once got down on his knees for *me*,» she thought bitterly.
After a couple of stops, she stepped off, glanced around, and sighed. «I’ll have to go back—my flat’s the other way.» But catching sight of a bench, she sat down, nerves frayed, needing a moment to compose herself.
Memories flooded in. Three years ago, Emily had agreed to marry—not out of love, perhaps even out of spite. Oliver wasn’t a bad bloke, kind enough, and she knew he’d make a decent husband. But she didn’t love him—just felt a fleeting attraction.
Truth be told, she’d always loved Matthew. Yet he’d suddenly married her friend Lucy, and they’d already had a little boy—born prematurely, though no one made much of it.
Around the same time, Oliver had started paying her attention—tagging along to the cinema, taking walks together.
«Em,» he’d said one day, «how about we get married?»
She’d hesitated. She’d toyed with the idea—but agreed anyway. Agreed out of spite.
«Alright,» she’d said, while thinking, *Let Matthew see… Though what does he care? He doesn’t even know I love him.*
She’d loved Matthew for years but never imagined he’d marry Lucy so quickly.
*How did Lucy manage to rope him in?* She had no doubt—Lucy cycled through boyfriends like seasons.
Matthew and Lucy lived just four streets away. Emily still lived with her parents in a small village. Matthew and Oliver were mates, often meeting up, and since the wedding, they’d visited often with their chubby five-month-old. Lucy gave wedding advice while Emily happily doted on the baby.
«He’s absolutely darling, Luce. Who does he take after? I can’t quite tell,» she’d ask, genuinely clueless.
«Me, most likely,» Lucy would laugh.
That day, Emily’s parents were away—gone to her grandmother’s in the countryside for fresh eggs, milk, and meat. With the wedding coming up, supplies were needed.
From the shade of the garden, Emily watched as Oliver, Lucy, and Matthew entered the yard, pushing the pram. She nearly called out, but Lucy pressed a finger to her lips and pointed to the sleeping baby. Matthew parked the pram in the shade.
They sat in the gazebo, sipping tea in the summer warmth, discussing wedding details—nothing could be left to chance.
Emily gathered the empty teacups and took them inside, returning for the teapot. Oliver and Lucy had wandered off, but Matthew followed her in. In the kitchen, glancing out the window, he suddenly grabbed her wrist.
«Don’t marry him. Don’t marry *anyone*,» he pleaded.
She stared, stunned. «Matthew, have you lost the plot?» She tried to pull free.
But he dropped to his knees, clutching her legs. «Em, love, how am I supposed to live if you become his wife?»
«Are you mad? Get up—what if Lucy or Oliver walks in?»
«I’m not mad,» he said, still kneeling. «I’ve loved you for years—too shy to say it, terrified you’d turn me down. Every time I brought Lucy here, it was just to see *you*.»
Emily was baffled. «Then why marry Lucy?»
«Because I’m a fool with a conscience, and she knew it. We slept together once—remember Vic’s birthday by the river? Everyone left, we drank too much… I didn’t even realise what happened. But I’ve always fancied you. You were only sixteen then—the youngest of us all. I thought it’d fade, but it got worse. Why are you rushing into this with Oliver?»
Her voice wavered. «Then why marry Lucy? You weren’t her first.»
«Because she said the baby was mine. What choice did I have? But I love *you*—more every day. And now this wedding? You don’t love him.»
Emily couldn’t bear it. She fled, darting behind the shed where she often sat to think. But then she heard voices—Oliver and Lucy, whispering under the birch tree.
«Go on, Olly, before Matthew catches us—or Em sees,» Lucy said.
«So what? We’ll say we’re planning a wedding surprise.»
«Right, good thinking,» Lucy giggled.
«Don’t take it personally—marrying Em’s just a way to see you more. And the little one. He’s starting to look like me, isn’t he?»
Emily shuddered.
«Are you *sure* he’s mine?» Oliver pressed.
«Course. I thought you’d bolt, but Matthew’s soft—easy to push around.»
Emily bolted. She couldn’t listen anymore. Her best friend. Her fiancé. None of it was real.
That night, she packed her things. When her parents returned, she left a note:
*Mum, Dad, don’t be angry—I’ve changed my mind about marrying. It’s too soon. Let Oliver live his life. Don’t look for me; I’ll reach out when I’m ready.*
She didn’t sleep.
*Lucy’s a liar. Poor Matthew—played like a fiddle. And Oliver? Just as bad.*
She left at dawn, taking the train to the city, finding work at a textile factory before enrolling in college.
Now, on a day off, she’d meant to stroll the high street—until the rain sent her running into Matthew again.
*So he’s married *again*? Left Lucy, and now some other girl’s having his baby?* She regretted leaving home.
Just then, a taxi screeched to a halt. Matthew leapt out, paid the driver, and sprinted toward her.
«Bloody hell—nearly lost you! Chased your bus in a cab. Thank God I found you. We never finished talking—why’d you bolt?» He reached for her hand, but she pulled back.
«Your wife’s waiting.»
«That’s *Claire*—my sister! Pregnant, sure, but hardly unrecognisable. Her husband’s away, and she’s close to her due date—scared to be alone.»
He took her hand, steering her back.
«Em… got a bloke?» he asked.
«Why? You’re married.»
«Lucy and I split. Oliver confessed everything after you left—even Lucy admitted it. Thought he’d deny the kid, but turns out he’s got paternal instincts. They’re together now—another on the way.»
Emily listened silently as Matthew rambled.
«When are you coming home? I’m done with shift work. Come back. I’ve changed—I love you. Dad and I finished the house. It’s yours if you want it.»
Her heart pounded. He stopped, holding both her hands, pulling her close.
«Well? Marry me.»
She smiled. «Alright, you win. I’ve loved you all along—you never noticed.»
«Not a clue. Why’d you never say?» She laughed.
They married soon after. Now their garden holds a pram where their daughter naps. The house is bright, full of laughter—and finally, happiness.
**Lesson learned: Love’s a tangled mess, but sometimes, if you wait, it untangles itself.**