Does the wolf cry over the sheep?

Our decision

October 10, 2023

Emilia

As the rain drummed against the windows, Emilia settled into the rocking chair, the warmth of the fireplace a comforting respite from the chill in the air. Her fingers moved deftly, the soft orange yarn flowing through them as she knitted a tiny scarf for the little boy. She had devoured ten chapters of her favorite book, savoring the words and saving the rest for the next few days. The silence was a welcome change from the constant hum of her phone, which had become an extension of her hand back in London. Here, without the distraction of calls and internet, she could finally breathe.

As she worked, Emilia's thoughts wandered to Kit's words. He had been right; getting away from the noise was a relief. The stillness allowed her to reflect on her life, to confront the memories she had tried to keep at bay.

"Emilia?" Richard's voice broke the spell, and she turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his as he stood in the doorway, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets.

A warm smile spread across his face. "I didn't know you knew how to knit!"

Emilia's hands stilled, and she looked up at him, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "My Mum taught me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Richard's gaze lingered on the scarf, and he asked, "Whose is it?"

"For the little boy," she replied, her fingers resuming their gentle rhythm.

Richard's expression turned concerned. "Are you okay? I mean, after what happened yesterday?"

Emilia's eyes clouded for a moment, but she pushed the memories aside. "I'm fine," she said, her voice steady. She had faced worse, and this incident wouldn't define her.

"Where's Kit?" Richard asked, his eyes scanning the room.

"He's talking to his son," Emilia replied, her gaze drifting back to the fire. "I told him not to come see me until he fixed what he made. The child shouldn't have seen all this!"

Richard nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed. "You're right, the child shouldn't have seen this. I just hope he forgets about it."

As they spoke, Emilia's thoughts strayed to the little boy, to the innocence he still possessed, and the harsh realities he had been forced to confront.

"Would you like some tea?" Richard asked, breaking the silence.

Emilia's face brightened, and she smiled. "That would be nice, thanks, Richard."

As Richard turned to leave, Emilia's eyes narrowed, a hint of amusement dancing on her lips. She knew Richard's limitations in the kitchen, and she couldn't help but wonder what chaos he might unleash.

As Emilia's fingers moved deftly over the knitting needle, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. The soft clickety-clack of the needles was soothing, and the warmth of the fireplace seemed to seep into her very bones. But her tranquility was short-lived, as Kit's voice broke the spell.

"Emilia?" he called out, his voice low and gentle.

Emilia's eyes lifted, and she met Kit's gaze as he walked into the living room. His eyes locked onto hers, and she felt a flutter in her chest. He knelt down beside her, his hand reaching out to take the one that held the knitting needle. His other hand cupped her cheek, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

"I talked to my son, I fixed everything," Kit said, his voice filled with a deep sense of relief. "Don't be upset, okay?" His eyes pleaded for her forgiveness, and Emilia's heart melted at the sight.