Why had he suddenly turned so judgmental?
“I’ve had enough!” thundered Edward, slamming his fist on the table so hard the teacup jumped, and the spoon clattered. “I don’t want to see her in this house again! Not her, not her shadow!”
“Are you out of your mind?” shot back Emily, her head jerking up. “In case you forgot, I live here too! And who I invite over is my business, got it?”
“For now,” he muttered through gritted teeth, refusing to meet her eyes.
“So that’s it, then?” Her voice cracked. “Blackmail? Pressure? Is this normal now?”
But Edward was already on his feet, shoving the chair back with a scrape before storming out, the kitchen door banging shut behind him.
Emily was left alone. A heavy silence stretched between heartbeats. Then it hit her—the hurt, the anger, the sting.
How dare he?
Lily was her best friend. Since they were four. Nursery, school, university, student halls, first heartbreaks and drunken mistakes. They’d weathered her mother’s death, Lily’s father vanishing, botched exams, bad romances, weddings, divorces—everything. They were sisters. Closer than blood.
Yes, Lily wasn’t married. Yes, she had an active love life. But that was her choice! She was free, sharp, brilliant. She didn’t owe anyone approval.
And Edward? He knew exactly who Lily was. He’d listened when Emily told him how they’d once slept at King’s Cross after missing the last train, how they’d ditched lectures to chase the wrong men. He’d laughed back then, joked along. Now suddenly—nothing.
All because Lily didn’t fit as a guest. Too loud, too free, too “not the wife’s friend type.”
But to Emily, she was safety. Comfort. Lily was the one who’d never betray her, never envy, never judge. And now, what? She wasn’t allowed to see her?
This wasn’t even the first time. Months ago, Edward had erupted the same way—over her sister, Charlotte.
Charlotte, four years younger, lived in Manchester. For years, she’d dated a man. Everyone assumed a ring was coming. Then the truth: he was married. Kids, house, the whole lie. Charlotte had been the secret.
The family turned on her. Their father ignored her for weeks. Emily cried herself to sleep, unsure how to help. Charlotte went quiet. Then she packed up and moved back to London. Soon after, the man bought her a flat. Just like that. No strings.
At first, everyone sneered. Then—respect. Real money. A place in Kensington. “Generous bloke,” they whispered. “Didn’t leave her empty-handed.”
Emily had told Edward about it too. Without thinking, the words tumbling out, laced with pride—her sister had landed on her feet, after all.
And now this…
“Emily!” Edward’s voice from the living room. “Cat got your tongue? Always defending your reckless girls, aren’t you?”
She stepped out of the bathroom, voice flat. “Charlotte’s a grown woman. She’s allowed her mistakes. She didn’t steal anyone. If a man gave her something, it’s because he could afford it.”
Edward leaned back on the sofa, smirking. “Ever think it’s jealousy? You say you don’t care, but your eyes lit up when you talked about that flat. Maybe you’re dreaming—wish someone’d hand you the keys to—”
“You’re insane,” Emily hissed. “I’m married. I love you. Or do you think if a woman glances at another’s ring, she’s plotting to toss her own?”
“So I’m just supposed to sit back while your ‘mates’ and ‘sisters’ parade through our home? One with a trail of blokes, the other a kept woman with a happy ending? What’s next—my turn?”
“You’re seriously scared I’ll lose it and run off?” Her voice trembled. “Because Lily’s single and Charlotte got a flat? What kind of madness is this?”
Edward shot up. “You don’t get it! It’s the principle. I’m sick of them here! I forbid it! Understood? No Lily, no Charlotte! Not one!”
Emily stared into his eyes. No love. No trust. Just suspicion, control, irritation. She turned away. Walked slowly to the bathroom. Turned the tap on full. And let go.
Tears came endlessly. She choked on the weight of it—anger, helplessness, fear. But worst was knowing he didn’t hear her. That the man she’d trusted with her heart now questioned even her right to choose her own friends.
“Tell me…” she whispered under the rush of water, “is this really the end? Does none of it matter now—the love, the laughter, the plans?”
The thought she’d fought to ignore now pulsed louder.
Maybe… maybe it’s time to leave?
