The city air felt especially thick the day the letter arrived. The envelope, slightly yellowed with age, carried a faint scent of salt and something nostalgically familiarchildhood summers. With shaky hands, Emily opened it and read the neat, old-fashioned handwriting. Her grandmother, Margaret, had left her the seaside housethe very one where shed spent her happiest summers.
Emilys heart raced, joy tangled with sadness. She could almost feel the warm sand under her toes, hear the waves, and picture her grandmothers kind face waiting at the door.
She called James at once. His voice crackled through the phone, distant and slightly annoyed, as if shed interrupted something terribly important.
«James, I need to go,» she said, steadying herself. «Gran left me the house by the sea.»
A pause. Then, «That old place? The one thats practically falling apart?»
«Its not falling apart!» Emily shot back. «Its grand, full of history. I spent every summer there as a kid. My parents would pack me off, and Gran would spoil me rotten. Shed hold my hand when I was little, taking me down to the shore. Later, Id race there with the local kidssandwiches, sunshine, endless laughter…»
«And how long will you be gone?» His tone was brisk, dragging her back to the stifling city.
«Im not sure. At least a fortnight. Its been years since I last visitednot since uni. Ill take holiday leave. You could come down later? Its only a few hours drive. Take a couple days offwe could relax by the sea.»
«Not exactly pining for the seaside,» he muttered. «Fine, Ill see how work goes.»
Those words hung heavy. Hed «see.» Just like he always did, then stayed buried in work, too busy for her.
Three days later, Emily packed her bags, heart fluttering with hope that James might change his minddrive her to the station, kiss her goodbye, say hed miss her. Instead, three hours before her train, he rang.
«Emily, sorry, cant take you. Work crisis. Youll manage a cab, yeah?» His voice had that false ring she knew too well.
«Of course,» she said, throat tight. «Dont worry.»
She hailed a taxi, staring blankly out the window as London blurred past. Thenher heart lurched. At a red light stood his car. And there was James, helping a slender woman in a floral dress out of the passenger seat. They smiled, exchanged words, then vanished into a cosy corner café.
«Stop here, please!» Emilys voice shook. «Ill pay for the waitI need to get out!»
She stormed into the café. They sat by the window, heads bent over a shared menu, fingers nearly touching.
«Hello,» she said, voice icy. «Busy, I see. Just one thinggoodbye. Dont call me again. Ever.»
She turned on her heel, ignoring his shouts. Back in the taxi, fists clenched, she seethed the entire journeytrain, taxi, winding country roadsreplaying his betrayal.
The surly driver finally stopped at wrought-iron gates tangled with ivy. «Here you are,» he grunted.
Emily hauled her bags out. The driver sped off, leaving her alone before the house.
The air was sweet with sea salt and wild herbs. She fumbled with the antique keys, found the right one, and the lock clicked open like the start of a new chapter.
The overgrown garden was a riot of untamed flowersGrans legacy fighting through neglect. The oak front door groaned as she pushed it open.
Silence. The grand hall, with its soaring ceiling and stained-glass window, was exactly as she remembered. Dust coated everything, but the house still felt alive.
Upstairs, a loud bang made her jump. Probably a loose shutter. In Grans bedroom, she sank onto the massive four-poster bed, sending up a cloud of dust.
Thenthe doorbell clanged.
On the doorstep stood Mrs. Wilkins, her neighbour, face kind but weary. «Emily, love! Recognise me?»
«Auntie Jean!» Emily grinned. «How did you know I was here?»
«Saw the gate open. Your gran asked me to keep an eye on the place. My lad, Tomremember him?moved back after his divorce. If you need anything, just shout.»
That evening, after a supermarket trip, Emily admired the sunsetcrimson streaks over the calm sea. She almost reached for her phone to call James, then stopped.
«Brilliant idea,» she muttered, tossing it aside.
In bed, she dreamed Gran stood by her, whispering, «Make the right choice, love.»
She woke with a start. «What choice?»
Morning light glinted off the filthy chandelier. Hopeless. She knocked on Jeans door.
«Tomll help,» Jean said. «Hes handy.»
Tom arrivedtall, broad-shouldered, with a grin that crinkled his eyes. «So youre the Emily who nicked all our apples?»
She laughed. «Guilty.»
They cleaned the chandelier, laughing as crystal droplets sparkled back to life. Tom stayed all day, fixing creaky doors, shifting furniture. By afternoon, the house gleamed.
«Starving,» Tom declared. «Fancy the pub?»
Over fish and chips, he regaled her with stories. Later, they swam in the warm sea, the waves gentler than her memories.
That night, James called. «Emily! Miss you. Send the addressIll visit.»
She pictured Toms honest smile, James with that woman. Grans voice echoed: *Make the right choice.*
«Dont bother,» she said coolly. «Were done.»
She hung up, realising Gran hadnt meant city vs. sea, but past vs. future. Lies vs. something real.
Shed chosen.
Months later, Emily moved in properly, working remotely. The house echoed with laughter, the fireplace crackled, and the kitchen smelled of fresh bread.
She married Tom in a quiet garden ceremony, the sea their witness. Now, they stood on the terrace, her hand resting on her rounded belly, watching the moonlit waves.
«Thank you, Gran,» she whispered.
Inside, a crystal pendant on the clean chandelier tinkled softly in reply.
