**Diary Entry A Lifetime with Emily**
The quiet of a Saturday morning in our sleepy little town was shattered by the sound of a motorbike revving under my window.
«Emily! Em!»
«Bloody hooligan!» a woman’s voice shouted from an upstairs flat.
«Let us sleep!» someone else groaned.
But the lad on the bike just grinned, undeterred. «Emily! Come on, then!»
The front door of the council block creaked open, and out she steppedEmily, my girl, with a picnic basket in hand.
«Blimey, took your time,» I teased.
«Had to pack the sandwiches,» she said, swinging a leg over the bike behind me.
«Disgraceful!» an insomniac neighbour bellowed from his window as I gunned the engine, roaring off before anyone could protest further.
We raced through town, past the high street, onto the country lanes where the air smelled of cut grass. The wind whipped at her hair, pulling strands loose from under her helmet.
«Alright back there?» I called.
«Never better,» she laughed, arms tight around my waist.
We stopped by the riverbank, collapsing into the long grass, watching clouds drifta dragon, a ship, a teapot.
«Em,» I said after a while, «what dyou reckon you’ll do when you grow up?»
«Finish school, uni maybe. Get a job. You?»
«Marry you,» I said. «Get rich. Or the other way round.»
She swatted me. «Dont be daft.»
«I mean it. Even if I have to drag you back from some other bloke.»
She laughed. «Like who?»
«Dunno. That Tom from the paper club. Saw you giggling with him.»
«We were *designing* something, you berk.»
I shrugged. «Doesnt matter. Youre mine.»
***
Years later, the motorbike was replaced by a car, the riverbank by a mortgage, the daft dreams by paychecks and school runs. Life happenedarmy service, arguments with Mum about marrying too young, kids, jobs that came and went.
There were nights when I wanted to scream, to chuck it all in. But Emily would just hand me a sandwich, then her old guitar.
«Sing,» shed say. «It helps.»
And we would, soft at first, then louder*»I’ll ride my bike for miles and miles, through fields and over stiles…»*
We made it, in the end. A nice house, holidays abroad, kids grown and settled. But comfort breeds restlessness.
One evening, an old mate dragged me to a London club»Trust me,» he said.
I lied to Emily. First time ever. Said it was work.
At the club, a woman sat beside mesharp, clever, too polished for the place. «Fancy getting out of here?»
We walked for hours, talking. She was a single mum, scraping by, waiting for her break. I listened, fascinated.
For a month, I lived in a daze, meeting her in parks, cafes. Then one night, I came home to silence.
Emily was gone.
No note, no calls. Just an empty house.
I rang the kids. «Seen your mum?»
«Nope.»
Panic set in.
I found the other womanSophieand ended it properly.
«I love my wife,» I said. «Always have.»
She nodded. «I know. I envy her.»
***
Four days later, I stood under her parents flat, revving the bike like a teenager.
«Emily! Em!»
Neighbours yelled. I ignored them, belting out our old song.
The door opened. There she wasolder, wiser, still holding a bloody sandwich.
She climbed on without a word, arms around me like always.
We rode to the river, lay in the grass.
«Em,» I said.
«Yeah?»
«Forgive me?»
She smiled. «For what?»
«For being an idiot.»
She laughed. «Alright. But no more clubs.»
«Never.»
We sang then, like kids again, under the same endless sky.
**Lesson:** Love isnt about never straying. Its about always finding your way back.
