Simply Carrying On With Life

Just Keep Living On

Emily, a lively little girl with two messy pigtails sticking out like quills, raced along the wide, sun-soaked veranda of the country house. Her eyes glimmered with wonder, and her cheeks glowed crimson from the games shed been playing. Spotting her older brother Jamess friend quietly making his way towards the door, she skidded to a stop, breathless, and darted after him.

Without a moments hesitation, Emily leapt forward and clung to his arm with her small, warm hands. Tilting her head, gazing up at him with all the sincere intensity of childhood, she burst into a ringing, crystalline laugh:

Ill never let you go! Just you waitwhen I grow up, Ill marry you! Promise me youll wait!

For a brief second the young man froze, eyebrows arching in surprise, but soon his face relaxed into a broad, kindly smile. With a fondness and mild bemusement that only adults have for the wild promises of children, he said with a gentle, teasing tone:

Ill wait for you.

He raised his hand and tousled Emilys already wild hair, making her pigtails stick out even more. Emily squinted up at him for a second, then broke into a fresh smile, her grip unrelenting.

But for now, he went on, stooping a little so their eyes were level, you make sure you study hard and listen to your parents. Youve got to be deserving if youre ever to be my fiancée, you know.

His voice, far from stern, carried the warmth of a grown-up speaking to a child with secret amusement and tenderness. Emily hesitated, as if weighing his words with the seriousness of a judge, then nodded fiercely, squeezing his hand even tighter:

Alright! Ill be the very best there is!

Light and laughter and impossible dreams clung to the air that summer day, as if nothing in the worldabsolutely nothingwas out of reach or too good to be true

***

Emily sat in her room, idly flipping the pages of her maths revision book. Outside, dusk trickled in slow and stubborn, and the house was unusually quietfaint sounds from another room just barely disturbing the hush. She found herself listening in: Jamess voice, lively and animated, carried through the walls.

She crept closer to her door, straining to catch his words. When she heard Toms name, her heart knocked sharply in her chest. Emily stood still, every inch of her attentive. James was murmuring about a meet-up in town, mentioning a café, and her smile. There was no questionhe was talking about Toms new girlfriend.

Without thinking, Emily shot upright and tiptoed down the hallway to her brothers room. She pressed her ear to the cool wooden door, drinking in his words as if they held some strange magic. A sharp ache pinched her chest, but she refused to entertain the thought. Perhaps its not what I fear, repeated in her head, hot and fast.

But when James ended the call and stepped out into the hallway, Emily straightened up immediately, as if caught in the act. Too lateJames saw her.

Toms got a new girlfriend? she blurted, not waiting for questions. Her voice trembled, but she tried to sound casual.

James stopped, looking her up and down with a sighnot annoyed, but with that weary, knowing look only older brothers wear. Hed noticed long ago how Emilys face would flush at any mention of Tom, how shed sneak glances at his photos, how her laughter would spark whenever he was near.

Not this again? He rolled his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. Emily. Youre sixteen now. Isnt it time to grow out of your silly old crush? Honestly, its just childish fondness.

Emilys chin jutted up, stubbornness lighting her brown eyes. Folding her arms, she made it clear: she wouldnt be swayed.

Never! she shot back, shaking her head so her golden curls swirled about her face. You dont get it! Hes going to fall in love with me, I just know it! Its not a childish crushits the real thing!

There was steel in her words, defiancebut deep down, she was trying to convince herself it was true. She recalled all the little moments: Toms lingering glances, those rare, soft smiles, the times their hands brushedall stowed safely away in her heart, hopes built bit by shining bit.

James could only watch silently, unsure how to answer. He saw the flare in her eyes, the trembling lips, and understoodnot even the soundest argument could break through now. This childish devotion had become something far more for Emilya glowing thing that outshone all other distractions

***

A sunbeam tiptoed through the curtains, spilling golden light into the room. Emily burst into the sitting room like a summer gale, her face so bright it seemed to outshine the morning itself. Her eyes glittered like starry frost, and her smile was so wide, her cheeks strained at the effort.

Racing downstairs, she found her brother James sipping tea and scrolling through his iPad newsfeed.

He asked me out! Emily exclaimed, barely containing her excitement. Her voice chimed like a bell, her hands clenching in joyful anticipation. Can you believe it? He brought me a birthday presenta beautiful box with my name engraved on itand said that now Im finally eighteen, he could finally admit it: Tom loves me!

She was nearly bouncing on her toes, smoothing her hair with nervous hands, as if wanting every strand to be just so. The joy in her gaze seemed to shimmer in the very air.

James looked at her, finally putting down his cup. A huge, genuine smile spread across his face. Hed been expecting this, he realisednot just for Emily, but also for his best mate Tom. Over the past six months, Tom had talked about her more and more. Hed ask offhand about her weekends, wonder aloud at her favourite flowers, even speak wistfully about trips to the countryside one day, all three of us.

Shes so beautiful, Tom would say, gazing out the window. And smart, and kind cant wait for her to turn eighteen. You wouldnt mind if we were together, would you?

James always replied the same: If shes happy, Im happy. He knew Tomsteadfast and sincere. Watching his sister now, James was more certain than ever shed made the right choice.

Congratulations, he said, standing to pull her into a hug. Im thrilled for both of you. Really.

Emily clung to her brother, breathless, unable to believe it wasnt a trick of sleep. The world, it seemed, had thawed, brightenedbecome secret and marvellous again. And as if echoing her happiness, a ginger cat purred contentedly on the windowsill, soaking up sunlight

***

She sat on a stiff, plastic chair in a hospital corridor. The walls were painted a dull oatmeal, the grey afternoon outside leaking through the window, as if even the weather mourned. Emily gazed ahead, eyes blankseeing not the scuffed linoleum, nor the doctors whisking by, but something infinitely distant and hidden.

Her hands lay motionless on her knees; her dress wrinkled and foreign, her hair ordinarily tied and neat lay loose and wrong across her shoulders. She might have been a broken dollstill, lifeless, all her usual warmth drained away. Over and over, memories replayed in her mind: yesterday, she and Tom had sat side by side, wedding hall sketches laid out, debating which ribbons went best with white tulle. Hed laughed, teased, promised everything would be perfect And this morning, Tom was simply gone.

It had happened so fast, so pointlesslya driver had lost control on the A-road, turning three cars into a heap of twisted metal. No one survived. Not Tom, not the other two, not the man behind the wheel. One secondto scatter a life into shards, like a mirror that could never again reflect their shared future.

Somewhere, footsteps echoed down the silent corridor. James appeared, pale-faced, his eyes raw and red. He knelt down beside her, gently putting an arm around her trembling shoulders. His hands shook, but he clung on for her sake.

Em? He barely spoke above a whisper, as if a loud noise might shatter the world. Emily, talk to me. Please.

Emily slowly turned her head. Her eyes were dry but hollowed by pain James could hardly bear to see. She looked through him, towards some unreachable place hed never enter.

Whats there to say? Her voice was lifeless, just words falling, mechanical.

James swallowed, scrambling for words that wouldnt break her further.

Anything, he said, holding her shoulders a little tighter, hoping it might anchor her. Just tell me how you feel. Cry, evenfor heavens sake, dont hold it in!

Emily shook her head. Her lips trembled, but no tears, no sound.

I cant, she murmured finally, shrugging with a strange, distant calm. There are no tears. And I dont want to live, either.

Her words hung in the air, heavy as the rain gathering outside the window. James closed his eyes, bracing against his own howl of grief. He knewhe couldnt show weakness now. He had to be strong, even if it felt like the ground itself was sliding away.

After that, Emily seemed to float apart from the world. Her stare was fixed, her face blank, shoulders slumped as if the weight of loss pressed her into the chair. James tried, touching her hand, calling her name, but she stayed distant. Even the nurses, concerned for her state, found no response. Emily simply sat there, staring at nothing, shut away from everything.

Eventually, one of the nurses gave her an injectiona gentle hand, a prick at her armand gradually, her mind clouded, thoughts smudging like ink in water. A troubled, uneasy sleep swept over her, a heavy, dark blanket offering no relief, only silence.

When she awoke, she was in her own bedroom, not a hospital ward. The familiar patterned curtains, the bookshelf, the framed photograph on her nightstandall looked both known and strange, as if shed returned somewhere she no longer recognised.

Emily turned her head slowly and saw James. He was on the little sofa, hunched, cheeks unshaven, eyes puffy. He was murmuring with their mother, whod returned home from her business trip, her own face pale and shadowed, her voice firm beneath a veneer of exhaustion.

Im so worried for her, she heard James say softly, as if afraid to wake her, though she was already awake. Ems been obsessed with Tom since she was little, shes never even looked at another boy. What do we do now?

Time heals all wounds, their mother replied, but with little conviction. She knew, as did James, those words rang hollow. Emily had lived and breathed Tomhis smile, his laugh, dreams of their life together. Her very existence for the past years was steeped in that devotion, and now, with him gone, the ground had crumbled. Well look after her, she added with more resolve, as if summoning belief for them both.

Emily listened to this, unable to find the strength to reveal she was awake. Inside, she felt hollowed-out, as if someone had scooped everything living from her chest. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep, for she couldnt think of any words to answer their worry or explain that the pain was simply hibernating, deep and thick beneath the mask of exhaustion.

James lingered a moment, then rose cautiously, careful not to disturb her. He glanced at their mother, nodded grimly, then left the room. Mum remained, sitting beside the bed, quietly stroking Emilys hand as if trying to channel some warmth into her. Silence settled around them, broken only by the tick of the clock and Emilys faltering breaths

***

Nine days Forty days Time dragged by, slow as syrup, clinging to every second. In all that time, Emily barely movedshe would perch on her bedroom windowsill, knees pressed to her chest, staring into the garden with dull eyes.

Her gaze roamed to the old wooden bench beneath the sprawling beech. That was where, on a balmy September evening, Tom, nerves trembling, at last asked her to marry him. Every detail returned: how his hands shook as he drew out the ring, how he stumbled over his words, finally blurting everything in one storm of feeling. Shed burst out laughing in delight, said yes before hed finished.

Now the bench looked abandoned, pointless. The trees stood stripped and bareautumn had folded into winter, though Emily scarcely noticed. For her, time froze in the moment of the fateful news.

Em, wont you eat something? her mothers soft voice fluttered through her reverie.

She approached gently, hand hovering to touch Emilys shoulder. Her fingers were coldshe hadnt felt warm for days, as if winter had entered her as well. Her mother gazed at Emily with pain so fierce it squeezed tears to her eyes, but she fought to hold them inshe knew she must appear strong now.

Im not hungry, Emily replied, not turning her head. Her voice was flat, blank, as if she was talking not about herself, but some distant stranger.

Youve got to eat, darling, her mother persisted, trying for firmness. You didnt eat yesterday, or the day before. You need to keep your strength up.

For who? Emily finally turned, though her eyes were as empty as before. I dont owe anybody anything.

Her mother flinched, as if the words had struck her. She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came. Instead, with a deep, shuddering sigh, she turned away and left the windowsill behind. Defeated.

She paused in the doorway, looked back once at her daughter, then slipped out. In the corridor, James was waiting, shaking his head, face drawn with frustration and sorrowhed heard it all.

I spoke with the doctor, their mother whispered, twisting her apron. We really need a professionals help. We cant manage this alone.

James nodded. Hed known that a while, but resisted saying it aloud. Watching Emilyso still, so far awaytore him to pieces. He balled his fists, trying to hold back his fury at the worlds unfairness. Now only action mattered.

Ill ring Doctor Simpson, he said, pulling out his phone. She promised shed help if things got worse.

Their mother just nodded, glancing again at the bedroom where Emily sat, unmoving, merged with the winters faded light, as if part of the window and a prisoner of time itself.

When darkness finally fell and the pale moon cast icy patterns on the wooden floor, Emily pushed herself off the sill. Her legs wobbledshed grown so frail that every step was an effort. Floating through the room, as if in a half-forgotten dream, she undressed and lay beneath the covers, pulling the duvet up to her chin.

Silence enveloped her, broken only by muffled voices through the wall. Emily closed her eyes and begged for untroubled sleep. Instead, her dreams spun strange and vivid.

She dreamt of Tom. He stood as he had in life: gentle smile, favourite grey jumper. But this time his face was serious, almost strict.

Emily, he sounded as if he really was there beside her, close enough to touch. Look at yourself. What are you doing?

Words stuck in her throat, so she could only look, yearning. But he continued, stepping closer:

Have you seen yourself in the mirror? Youve let yourself go, and you cant do that.

She reached to touch him, but her hand passed through nothinghe was spirit, memory alone.

I I cant go on without you, she whispered, tears burning her cheeks.

Yes, you can, he replied, firm and clear. Youre strongyouve always been strong. You have to keep living. Do you understand? Keep living.

He stepped closer; for a split second she swore she felt the warmth of his hand on her cheek.

Theres so much ahead for you good days, bad daysits all part of it. But never stop. Im right here. Always. Look upthere, above the rooftops, above the city lightsIm there, among the stars. When it all gets too much, call for me. Ill help.

Emily choked, wanting to hold him, but his image already began to pale.

Dont go! she cried, reaching after him. Please!

But he was nearly gone, leaving only the softest whisper behind:

Live, Emily. Promise me.

She woke with a start. The familiar room, the same bed, moonlight stretched across the floor. Her pillow was soaked with tears, her heart beating wildly with pain and longing.

Not knowing what she did, Emily sobbedloudly, desperately, shattering the nights hush. In moments her parents and James were at her side.

Em, darling, whats happened? Her mother rushed to her, grasping her hands, searching her face for answers.

Where does it hurt? Where? James scanned the room for anything that might help.

Emily didnt answer. She sat, hunched, shaking with silent, open grief, the image of Tom fierce in her mind, his stern, loving eyes, his last words.

Promise me, the echo returned.

Through her tears and aching chest, she whispered:

I promise

Her mother wrapped her in an embrace, rocking her like she had when Emily was small, and James placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. Words meant nothing; their presence was everything.

Emily pressed her face into her mothers shoulder, wondering how she would go onhow one breath followed the next, how to eat, to walk, to laugh, without Tom. But somewhere, in the battered heart of her, a flickering thought kindled: if he believed in her, if he had asked her to livethen she had to try.

If only for him.

***

One drizzly evening, the family gathered in the lounge. Mum set out the tea, but none touched their cupsthey barely noticed. It was clear: something had to change.

I think we should move, James said quietly, but with resolve, glancing at his sister. Emily, every street corner here, every inchthese are all memories. Every step is pain for you.

Emily curled up in an armchair, arms hugged around her knees. She didnt argue; she didnt protest. She just gazed from the window, where rain blurred the world into washed watercolours, her face pale but no longer empty, exactly.

It would be easier in another city, her mother agreed, fingers brushing Emilys hand. New surroundings, new faces perhaps itll help you make a fresh start.

Emily turned, her voice soft, but not hollow:

Where?

Theres a place in Birmingham, James explained. A friends got work there and can help me get a job. Well rent a flat first, sort out everything else later.

Mum nodded, Well find a good college for you, too. Itll all come together. What matters is you feeling better.

Emily weighed the thought. Images flickered by: herself and Tom laughing by the bench; walks down the old road, hand in hand; the school steps where he gave her flowers. Every spot, every house, every leaf reminded her of him. And those memories were daggers, as painful as ever.

Alright, she said at last. Lets do it. Lets move.

It cost her to say it, all hope and helplessness. But it was a choiceher first real decision in a long time.

The next few weeks bustled with sorting and packing. Emily rarely joined in; she mostly watched as they boxed up lives, cleaned out drawers, wiped dust from places soon to be left behind. Sometimes, she picked up a trinketa keyring Tom gave her, an old photo, a cinema ticket from their first datestaring at it before laying it in a box.

On moving day, she stepped out onto the balcony one last time, gazing over the familiar garden. She felt the ache again, but refused to be swept under this time. Ill manage, she told herself. I must.

Birmingham met them with gloomy skies and bustling pavements. The flat was clean and sunlit. Emily stood at the new window, looking out over unfamiliar houses and hurrying strangers. Everything new, untainteda blank slate, upon which to carve a different life.

The first days were tough. Emily awoke with a knot of disbeliefthis didnt feel like her world. She missed old haunts, old friends. At night, Tom sometimes visited her in dreams, smiling softly, his words always kind, and shed wake with salt tracks on her cheeks.

But gradually, details crept in. Tulips opened in the park down the road. The barista at the café remembered her order and smiled when she came in again.

These were small victories, but they helped. Emily knew shed never forget Tomcould never. But now she understood: living did not dishonour his memory. It was, in fact, the fulfilment of his final request.

She attended classes, helped her mother around the new flat, walked the unfamiliar streets with James. Every day was a trial, every day brought something newnot instead of the past, but alongside it.

Deep down, she knew Tom was watching over her.

She knew he was proud.

Because she was still standing.

Because she was, after all, still livingSpring unfurled restlessly, green and bright and new. On a Saturday morning, Emily wandered into the city gardensa maze of cherry trees scattering pink snow, children shrieking with laughter, the world thrumming with possibility. She perched on a bench, breathing in the fresh scent of damp earth and sun-warmed grass.

A sketchbook rested in her lap. She had brought it, not to fill with pretty picturesshe hadnt drawn for monthsbut to prove she still could. She rested her pencil tip on the page, hesitating, lost in a quiet hush. For the first time in a long while, she let herself remember freely: Toms smile, their laughter, the ache and sweetness mingled together with the sharpness of loss.

Her fingers curled around the pencil. A hesitant mark, a line, then another. She found herself drawing not Tom, but the world as she saw it nowbuds unfurling, light glinting in puddles, the shape of two sparrows building a nest. There was grief inside these lines, but hope threaded through them too.

When she finished, she closed the sketchbook, exhaling a shaky but satisfied breath. A little girl toddled past, waving a fallen blossom, and Emily smiled backtentative but real.

Later, at home, James peered over her shoulder. Drawing again, he murmured, fond and relieved. Emily nodded, the weight in her chest lighter by degrees.

That evening, sitting at her window as the sky faded to indigo, Emily traced the first glimmer of stars. She pressed her palm against the glass, whispering into the hush, Thank you, Tom.

She didnt know what the future would hold. Some days would ache forever. But new tomorrows waited with gentle patience, and she was learning, slowly, to let them in.

With each sunrise, Emily choseagain and againnot just to exist, but to live. And in the quiet between heartbeats, she understood: keeping on was, in its way, a promise kept.

Somewhere above the rooftops, the stars winked back.