**15th June 2023**
“Matthew, we’re gathering on Saturday for Christopher’s birthday. Fancy joining us? I’ve invited Emily—you seemed to enjoy it last time when we all sang together. So, will you come?” Marion gave him a knowing smile.
Matthew nodded. “Wouldn’t miss my brother’s birthday for the world.”
“Brilliant! See you Saturday, then—two o’clock sharp. Cheers!”
Christopher, Matthew’s elder brother, had married Marion two years ago. She was lively and pretty, and though Matthew was happy for him, he couldn’t help feeling overshadowed. Chris had always been the charmer—tall, broad-shouldered, grinning. A site manager, no less—a proper leader.
Matthew had long accepted he’d never measure up. Not in height, charm, or luck. He was glad for his brother, truly. But his own life? A series of near-misses. Girls he fancied never seemed to notice him. Still, he didn’t mope. Hit the pull-up bar near his flat every evening. But Chris? Effortless.
Now, knowing Matthew was single, Marion kept inviting her sister Emily. Divorced, no kids—clearly, they were trying to set him up. But Emily wasn’t his type. Still, he’d go. Apart from Chris, Marion, and their parents, who else did he have?
Saturday arrived. Mum and Marion had laid out a proper spread. Matthew handed Chris his gift—a smartwatch his brother had been eyeing.
“Cheers, mate.” Chris slipped it on, admiring himself in the mirror while Marion beamed.
Matthew stifled a sigh. *No one’ll ever look at me like that. No wife, no kids, no one to share my life with. Who’d want a bloke like me—average job, average pay?*
He raised his glass. “To you, Chris. Proud to have you as my brother.”
Chris clapped his shoulder. “Here’s to you too, little bro—may life treat you just as well!”
Out the corner of his eye, Matthew saw Marion whispering to Emily, both glancing his way. Let them.
He ended up drinking more than he’d planned. Not smashed, but enough. Then Marion nudged him: “Matthew, walk Emily home? It’s on your way.”
Chris chimed in: “Go on, be a gent.”
*Bugger.* The evening was warm. They chatted, and—typical—it started pouring.
“Blimey!” Emily laughed. “That’s me just there. Fancy waiting out the rain? I’ll put the kettle on.”
He went in.
She knew what she was doing. The cosy flat, the tea, her standing too close, that encouraging smile. Then she spread out a patterned bedsheet with a flourish. Matthew watched, uneasy. *Why am I here? She’s a stranger.*
“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “I can’t have kids. We’re alike—both a bit unwanted, aren’t we? Perfect for each other.”
And he believed her. Maybe she was right. No point dreaming of miracles.
——
Last week, Emily rang after work. “Matthew, I need you. I’m lonely.” Guilt tugged at him. He couldn’t visit often, but when her calls grew insistent, he forced himself. *This must be my lot.*
Then work tossed a curveball. “Team, meet our new hires,” their manager announced. “Oliver Wright and Sophie Hart. Who’s taking whom?”
“Oliver’s with me,” cut in Tony. “Boys’ trips—no room for lasses!”
Matthew bit back irritation. Fine. His team already had one lad and two girls. A third wouldn’t hurt.
Next morning, rearranged desks. Oliver strode in first—confident, polite. Then Sophie.
Matthew nearly laughed. *She’s like me.* Petite, freckled, auburn hair in a messy ponytail, ears slightly sticking out.
“Excuse me,” she asked softly, “where might I find Matthew Wright? Group lead for structural design?”
He blinked. No one ever said his name like that.
“That’d be me. Pleasure, Sophie.”
He tested her with a quick quiz—she aced it. Then a materials spec—flawless. *She’s sharp.*
The following week was chaos. Tony’s team was off-site, while Matthew’s crunched deadlines, staying late. Sophie kept pace effortlessly. Whatever he threw at her, she’d ask, digest, deliver. And those glances—*How’d I do?*
For the first time, he felt *seen*. Coffee breaks, debates, edits traded with easy banter.
“Matthew,” she’d say, wide-eyed, “I never thought of that! You’re right—much tidier!”
Then he overheard Ivor tease her: “We just call him Matthew, y’know.”
She flushed. “He’s so *proper*!” But soon she did too—though still formal.
“Matthew, does this joint look right?”
She stirred something in him. That scrunched-nose focus, the way her cheeks pinked when frustrated. The victory hug when their project got approved—then her flustered, “Oops! Too much?”
When Emily called, he barely recognised her voice. “Matthew, it’s been two months. We need to talk. Tomorrow.”
He went, bracing for drama.
“Matthew, I thought we were together. You stayed over. You *hinted* at moving in. What changed?”
“Emily, we never promised anything. If I misled you, I’m sorry.”
Then the bombshell. “I’m pregnant.”
*Bloody hell.* Of all times—just as he’d met someone who lit him up. Sophie, who made him forget the time, who looked at him like he mattered.
“Emily, *you* said you couldn’t have kids!”
“Doctor’s misdiagnosis. But you’re the father. You won’t walk away, will you?”
He drove home numb. *Happiness isn’t for me.*
Next day, Sophie bounced over. “Matthew, there’s this band playing—fancy it?” They’d been on first-name terms for weeks.
He melted under her gaze. Walking her home, her small hand in his, her chatter washing over him. He barely heard a word—her *eyes* said everything.
Now he had to end it.
“Sophie, I need to tell you something.” He spilled it all—Emily, the baby.
Her smile faded. She slid her hand free. Silence.
“Sophie, I love you, but I can’t abandon my child.”
She studied him, then hugged him tight.
“Matthew, I’m daft, but I still want you. The baby’s innocent—you’re right. But if you don’t love her, staying won’t help anyone. Your call.”
He chose. Talked to Emily: he’d support the child but loved another.
“Emily, you *knew* this wasn’t love.”
Two months later, he married Sophie. Chris and Marion were stunned—Emily had spun tales. But it worked out: Emily had a daughter, Rosie, later married happily.
“Odd, isn’t it?” she once told Matthew. “I’ve Rosie thanks to you. And my husband says I glow now.”
Matthew and Sophie had two sons. He stayed in Rosie’s life—Sophie never minded, even helped pick her gifts.
Watching Sophie with their boys, he marveled. *So much love—enough for everyone.*
Who would I be without them? A shadow, bitter, always envying others’ joy.
Wait for the right one, mate. Wait—and you’ll have *everything*.
