Saturday mornings used to be her escape.
Not anymore.
Emily was at her desk by 8:00 a.m., laptop open, her notes already highlighted in four different colours. Cardiovascular systems revision. She had a mock OSCE coming up, and if she didn't keep up, she'd fall behind. And falling behind in medicine wasn't like missing a bus. It felt like letting go of the only future she was working for.
She read the same paragraph three times. Nothing went in.
Her phone buzzed again.
Ben: "Dad's yelling about orders. Said I packed the wrong tools for the morning job. Can't be arsed anymore. This place is toxic."
Emily hesitated, eyes still fixed on her laptop. She hadn't eaten yet. Her hair was still damp from the shower. She was drained and the day hadn't even begun.
She typed a reply anyway.
Emily: "Deep breath. Don't let it get to you. You're doing your best."
He repliedwith a thumbs-up emoji. That was it.
No "How are you?"
No "What are you up to today?"
Just wait.
She closed her laptop. She couldn't concentrate.
Downstairs, Lucy was in the living room with Harry, arguing about TV remotes. Their mum was in the kitchen, struggling to bend down for the cupboard.
"Mum, I've told you, you can't lift that pan," Emily said, rushing over.
"I'm fine, love. Don't fuss."
Emily sighed. "I'm not fussing. I'm just tired of watching you make things worse."
That came out sharper than she meant. Her mum stared at her for a second.
"Rough morning?" she asked gently.
Emily opened the fridge, then closed it again without taking anything.
"Just tired," she mumbled.
She didn't explain that her chest felt like it was being crushed. That she was studying something that demanded every part of her brain while emotionally holding up a boy who barely held her back. That she was everyone's safety net, but no one even knew how tangled she felt inside.
Later that afternoon, Ben came over.
He knocked like he always did—three short taps, then one longer one, like a rhythm only they shared. Emily opened the door, and he walked in without saying much.
His hoodie sleeves were stretched at the cuffs. He looked tired, same as always. He slumped onto the sofa and said, "I swear I'm going to lose it if I have to do one more run to that stupid warehouse."
Emily didn't sit. She hovered, trying to decide whether to say what she'd been holding back.
"I'm proud of you, you know,"she said softly. "For sticking with it."
Ben looked up, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah. I know it's not easy. But you're doing it anyway."
He smiled a little, and for a second, the boy she fell for was there again.
But the moment passed.
He pulled her into a hug—tight, needy. He buried his head into her neck. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Em. You're the only thing keeping me sane."
And yet, she felt hollow.
She didn't hug him back straight away. Because she knew he loved her. She also knew he loved her best when he needed her.
Not when she needed him.
That night, Emily sat by her window again, scrolling through photos on her phone.
Ben had never posted one of her.
Not once.
No anniversary post. No random candid of her laughing. Nothing.
She didn't want public validation. But sometimes… it would've been nice to be chosen out loud.
Her thumb paused on an old picture—taken by Jake, a guy she'd met during a group project at uni last term. They didn't speak much anymore, but she remembered something he'd once said during a break.
"You're the kind of girl who asks how everyone's doing but forgets to tell people how you're doing."
She'd laughed at the time. She didn't laugh now.
Maybe he was the only one who ever truly saw her.