Fury surged within her.

He had been here all along and he didn't even bother to tell me?!

Her hands clenched as anger consumed her. She pondered her next move.

I hope he comes out so I can give him a piece of my mind. The audacity of this wretched man.

Her mind started racing.

Actually, hold on. What am I doing? What do I expect him to say? What could possibly be my gain from this? I should leave.

Suddenly, footsteps approached, prompting her to swiftly choose to flee. She began walking away briskly. She mounted her horse and heard the door creak open.

"Emily?" Alex's voice echoed.

She chose silence. She didn't want to turn around, merely urging her horse to speed away. She simply wanted to go home.

"Shit!"

His curse was the last thing she caught before his voice faded away. Arriving home, she settled Hazel into the stable, then entered the house in a seething manner, slamming the door.

"Shit??? Who does he think he is? He's an asshole, that's what he is!" she exclaimed while grappling with her jacket, the zipper stubbornly resisting.

"Come on, just come off!" She directed her frustration at the zipper, yanking it with more force.

"You know what? Screw you!" she declared, and with a swift, aggressive motion, removed the jacket by pulling it over her head.

"And screw him too!" she added, dropping the jacket on the floor.

In a huff, she stormed into the kitchen, grabbing a whiskey bottle. Without bothering with a glass, she drank straight from the bottle.

"Emily?" a voice called from outside.

"Are you in there?" Alex's voice persisted.

"Nope," she retorted.

"Come out. Let's talk."

Fueled by anger, she went around turning off the lights in each room, switch by switch. The curtains followed suit, drawn shut with a firm tug, as if closing a door on his presence. In these simple yet purposeful acts, she was making it clear that she didn't want to lay eyes on him or hear a word he had to say.

"You can't stay in forever," he said.

"Oh, I believe staying in here is a better choice... for you," she muttered to herself.

"Fine, I'm leaving now. We can chat when you're feeling better."

Initially, she was dead set on giving him the cold shoulder until he got the hint and left. But that last sentence struck a nerve and without a second thought, she stormed outside and let her anger loose on him.

"When I'm feeling better? Spare me the false concern, you selfish son of a mustard!"

Alex snorted, a hint of laughter escaping. "You can't curse normally even when you're furious?"

"Unbelievable. Did anyone ever tell you that you're an arrogant little prick?"

"Come on, you know you like it."

"Do you treat everything as a joke? News flash – some things aren't funny. Playing with someone's emotions is NOT funny. So just go away, see if I even care anymore."

His demeanor shifted from a soft smile to a hint of annoyance.

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"That you lack any ounce of decency? It's painfully obvious, actually."

"I must admit, I'm quite enjoying this fierce side of you. It's kind of a turn on."

"You're sick. I'm going inside. Goodbye."

"Well, you're not wrong."

"I said, Goodbye! And don't bother coming back."

"Okay, Em. Try not to obsess over me too much."

Rage bubbled within her. His last remark felt different, not like a jest. It was as if he genuinely wished for her to stop thinking about him.

"And there I go again, trying to decipher it in his favour. Just grasp it already – he's toying with you," she muttered, attempting to calm herself and halt her thoughts.

Yet, it was all in vain. She despised him. Correction – she despised the impact he had on her. She despised how easily he could provoke her. Above all, she hated the fact that she cared.

The next day, at the nursery, she fought to convince herself she cared not to encounter him, that she desired no grand gesture from him. But when he failed to appear, disappointment settled in once more.

"Nick, no! Come back this instant!" she heard Lydia yell as she chased after Nick, who clutched something in his hands and attempted to evade her. Racing forward, Lydia caught up to him and, with his arms beneath her grasp, moved past Emily, quipping, "This child is going to be the end of me, I swear."

Emily managed a faint smile. Lydia set Nick down and remarked, "Alright, you need to lighten up."

Emily gave her a stern look.

"Alright, alright. Don't go all ballistic on me. Geez, poor Alex."

"What?" 

"Oh, well, if you were actually paying attention to what's happening inside the nursery rather than waiting for someone to make an appearance, you might have heard the tales Marnie was sharing," Lydia teased, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.

"Crap! What's she saying?"

"Go ask her yourself. Oh, for heaven's sake! Nick!" she yelled, starting to chase after Nick again, who was darting around, leaving a trail of toilet paper behind him.

Emily laughed and followed her to the playroom. Approaching Marnie, who was immersed in playing with stuffed animals, enacting a tea party, Emily politely asked, "May I join?"

"Absolutely! Lizzie and I missed you," Marnie exclaimed with joy.

"Aww, I missed you too. I'm s-", she started, but Marnie interrupted her.

"Why don't you play with me like you used to? Did I do something wrong?"

Marnie's candidness took Emily by surprise once more. She felt a pang of regret for distancing herself from the little girl, who had no part in the ongoing drama.

"Ooh no, sweetie, you did nothing wrong, I'm sorry. I promise it had nothing to do with you. I was just a bit sad, but I shouldn't have stopped playing with you."

"I sometimes feel sad too, but I know a secret on how to make the sadness go away." 

Without uttering another word, she extended her tiny hand toward Emily's heart, then placed her other hand over her own chest. After a few moments, she embraced Emily tightly before releasing her hold.

"See, I took all the sadness from your heart and tucked it into mine," she explained. "But when we hugged, our love was so strong that the sadness just couldn't stay. It floated away into the air, and now we can both be happy."

Emily was lost for words. It was undoubtedly one of the most heartwarming scenes she had ever encountered.

"Thank you, Marnie. That was incredibly kind of you," Emily expressed, her heart swelling with emotions. "Who taught you that trick?" she asked, expecting the answer to be Alex. This was a deliberate attempt to guide the conversation toward that topic, with the hope that Marnie might reveal any information she possessed about the events of the previous night..

"My brother. He's really good with stuff like that," Marnie responded. "But, you know, it didn't work on him yesterday. He said it did, but I didn't believe him." 

"Why didn't you believe him?"

"Because I heard him talking on the phone. He said that you yelled at him and that you didn't want to see him again."

Emily felt horrible. She started to say something, but Marnie was quicker.

"Is that true? Did he do something bad, and you won't come to see us anymore?"

"Oh, honey, no. I'll come visit you whenever you want."

"Oh, okay then, maybe he was just talking gibberish again." 

"Perhaps you're right," laughed Emily.

They engaged in play throughout the entire day. Emily felt a sense of relief for having repaired the rift between herself and Marnie. However, she had no inclination to visit their place, to visit him.

On her way back home, she made a detour to the market to grab some milk. As she pedalled away from the town towards the market, an odd sound emerged from the woods on her right.

No, no, no, no, I can't go through this again.

A figure cloaked in a hood emerged from behind a tree, swaying unnaturally as he approached. She was on the verge of panic until she recognized him.

"Alex?"

He stumbled out of the woods, his shirt stained and an almost empty whiskey bottle in his grip. Raising his head at the sound of her voice, he extended his arms wide.

"Heeey, buttercups. What's up?" he inquired, his stance unsteady.

"Are you drunk?"

"You're drunk," he slurred, collapsing onto the grass.

Emily parked her bike and cautiously approached him, a mix of concern and anger swelling inside her.

"Who tripped me? Did you trip me?" he asked, barely able to get the words out.

"It's not even 5 pm, and you're drunk as a skunk," 

"Stay away," he suddenly commanded, his tone firm.

"What? I'm trying to help you."

"You need to not see me anymore, okay? I'm no good. I can only hurt you."

He couldn't meet her gaze while admitting this.

"You're not a villain for crying out loud. You're just a jerk sometimes." 

Who seems to be an even bigger jerk when he's wasted, apparently.

"But then again, you're a man. It's in your blood, I guess," she attempted to inject a hint of humor.

It appeared that her words didn't register with him. His eyes flickered in different directions, and his attempts to steady his head were feeble; it swayed as if disconnected from his body. A faltering effort to rise ended with him collapsing back down. It was unmistakable that he was far too intoxicated to hold his head up, let alone stand upright. She reached out to assist him up, but he swatted her hand away.

"You don't get it. You're better off without me. Just go... Before I hurt you."

"No. I'm not leaving you like this. I can't even think about the idea of something going wrong or you causing harm to someone else. I'm not carrying that weight on my conscience," she stated firmly.

"You—"

"I said no! Let's go."

He looked at her, annoyed and thankful at the same time. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Fine. You warned me. Now get up."

Upon arrival, she settled him into bed and sent a message from his phone to Mrs Kargle, requesting her to care for Marnie for the night.

He can sort that out tomorrow himself as far as I'm concerned.

She started to make her way to the door, before hearing a muffled "Thank you" from Alex.