Nov 29, 2024
EMMA. (2020) dir. Autumn de Wilde
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EMMA. (2020) dir. Autumn de Wilde
Sense and Sensibility
The rain had finally stopped.
Leah slept fitfully upstairs, exhausted after days of fever. The doctor had assured them she would recover, though it would take time for her strength to return.
Downstairs, Tom stood near the front door, his worn coat draped over his arm. Across from him stood Mr. Lakewood—a wealthy gentleman, respectable, secure, everything Tom believed he himself was not.
Tom glanced toward the staircase one last time.
"Take care of her, Mr. Lakewood."
Lakewood frowned. "Hayward..."
"Please." Tom swallowed hard. "Just promise me."
The older man sighed.
"You're doing the right thing, Hayward."
Tom almost laughed at that.
Was he?
Lakewood continued quietly. "With me, she'll never want for anything."
The words struck like a knife.
Never want for anything.
Fine dresses.
Pretty bonnets.
A warm home.
A future free from worry.
Everything Leah deserved.
Everything Tom could not provide.
Tom nodded once.
"That's what matters."
Yet even as he said it, his chest ached.
Because he knew Leah never cared about those things.
She cared about him.
Her shy smiles.
The way she blushed when he looked at her.
The way her eyes searched for him in every room.
And still he was leaving.
Because love did not pay bills.
Love did not buy coal in winter.
Love did not fill a pantry.
Tom forced himself toward the door.
"Tell her..." His voice cracked.
Lakewood waited.
Tom stared at the floor.
"No. Don't tell her anything."
Because if Leah knew he was leaving for her sake, she would come after him.
And if she came after him...
He would stay.
The front door opened.
Cold air rushed inside.
For one terrible moment Tom almost turned back.
Almost ran upstairs.
Almost knelt beside her bed and confessed everything.
I love you.
I've always loved you.
I'd rather be poor with you than rich without you.
But he didn't.
Instead, he stepped outside.
The door closed behind him.
And upstairs, as though sensing something was wrong, Leah stirred in her sleep.
"Tom...?"
But he was already gone.
Tom pulled his coat tighter against the cold evening wind and swung himself into the saddle.
The horse shifted beneath him, eager to be gone.
He wasn't.
For a long moment, he simply sat there.
Looking up at the house.
At the window of the room where Leah slept.
A single candle flickered behind the curtains.
His throat tightened.
"I love you, Leah Hanna."
The words disappeared into the night.
No one heard them.
No one but him.
His hand clenched around the reins.
"I loved you from the first moment I saw you."
His eyes closed briefly.
He could still remember it.
A crowded afternoon at her father's office.
The sound of footsteps on the staircase.
Tom had looked up from a stack of papers.
And there she was.
Coming down the stairs.
Her curls slightly untamed.
Her spectacles slipping down her nose.
Holding far too many books in her arms.
Trying desperately not to drop any of them.
Then she had missed a step.
The books went flying.
Tom had rushed forward.
And Leah, cheeks bright red, had stammered,
"I-I am s-so sorry."
He had fallen in love right then.
Not with a perfect lady.
Not with beauty alone.
With Leah.
Sweet, awkward, intelligent Leah.
The woman who worried over everyone except herself.
The woman who smiled as though she was surprised anyone would smile back.
The woman he would love for the rest of his life.
Even if she never knew it.
Tom looked one last time toward her window.
"Be happy, Leah."
His voice broke.
"Even if it's not with me."
The candlelight flickered.
For one impossible moment, he imagined her running out of the house.
Calling his name.
Begging him to stay.
But the window remained still.
Because Leah didn't know he was leaving.
And Tom intended to keep it that way.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He wiped it away before anyone could see.
Then, with a sharp tug of the reins, he turned the horse toward the road.
The house grew smaller behind him.
The light in Leah's window faded into the darkness.
Yet no matter how far he rode, one thought followed him through the night.
If loving her was the greatest thing he had ever done... leaving her was the hardest.
Morning light slipped into the room like it didn’t quite belong there.
Leah blinked awake slowly, her head heavy, her throat dry. For a second she didn’t remember anything—just the quiet, just the warmth of sleep.
Then it came back.
Tom’s face.
The door closing.
The empty space where his voice used to be.
Her breath caught.
“Tom…?”
She pushed herself up too fast, dizziness washing over her. The door opened almost immediately.
Mr. Lakewood stepped inside like he had been waiting for that exact moment.
“Good morning, my dear.”
Leah froze.
Something about his calm voice made her stomach twist.
“I—w-where is he?” she asked, already knowing the answer wasn’t going to be kind.
Lakewood sighed and sat on the edge of the bed like this was some gentle arrangement, something neat and settled.
“You’re awake now,” he said softly, taking her hand as if it belonged to him already. “Don’t trouble yourself with him anymore.”
Leah pulled back immediately.
“No.”
Just that.
Sharp. Certain.
Lakewood didn’t let go, though. “Darling… don’t you see? He left so we could marry.”
Silence.
For a second, Leah just stared at him like she hadn’t heard correctly.
Then her face crumpled.
“No.” Her voice cracked. “N-no, that’s n-not—”
Her breathing turned uneven.
“I will n-never marry you,” she said, shaking now, tears spilling before she could stop them. “Now tell me—w-where did he go??”
Lakewood frowned slightly, like she was being unreasonable about something as simple as weather.
“It’s for the best—”
“W-WHERE.” Her voice broke fully this time.
The words came out messy, desperate.
“Tell me where he is. Please. P-please don’t lie to me.”
Her hands were trembling so badly she had to grip the blanket just to stay upright.
Lakewood hesitated.
And in that hesitation, Leah knew.
Her heart dropped so hard it felt like it left her chest entirely.
“…You don’t know,” she whispered.
A tear slid down her cheek.
“You d-don’t even know where he went.”
Her voice rose, thin and shaking.
“Y-you let him leave me and you don’t even know where he is?”
The room suddenly felt too small, too bright, too cruel.
And Leah—sweet, careful, soft-spoken Leah—looked like she might break in half just trying to understand how someone could be gone and the world could still keep going.
Months had a way of changing everything.
The house felt quieter now—not peaceful, just… emptied in a way that never quite healed. Leah had stopped waiting by the window, but only because it hurt too much to keep hoping for something that didn’t come.
Mr. Lakewood was gone from her life too, his certainty dissolving the moment she refused him. He had called it “unreasonable sentiment.” She had called it something worse under her breath and never looked back.
And Tom… Tom was a name she didn’t say out loud anymore.
Until the day it all came undone.
It happened in the afternoon, in the little shop down the lane. Leah stood in the aisle with a book in her hands she wasn’t really reading—just holding it like it might keep her steady.
The bell above the door rang.
She didn’t look up at first.
Footsteps.
Slow. Familiar.
Her breath caught without permission.
No.
That wasn’t—
She turned.
The book slipped straight from her hands and hit the floor with a dull thud.
Tom Hayward stood there.
Thinner. Tired around the edges. Like the world had worn him down but failed to erase him entirely.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Leah did.
She crossed the space between them in a rush—no hesitation, no thought, just years of everything breaking loose at once.
Her hand snapped across his cheek.
The sound echoed.
Tom didn’t even flinch away.
“W… w-where—” Leah’s voice shook so badly she could barely get the words out. “W-where have you been?!”
He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for months.
“Yorkshire,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened, fury and heartbreak mixing so hard it made her dizzy.
“I thought,” he went on, voice low, careful, “it would be best for you if I just left. So you could… marry Mr. Lakewood. Have a life that wasn’t—”
“That wasn’t your decision to make!” Leah cut in, tears spilling now, unstoppable. “A-and I didn’t marry him! So you left for nothing! You left me!”
Her voice cracked completely at the end.
“I know,” Tom said.
No excuse.
No defense.
Just truth.
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
Leah shook her head like she didn’t want to hear it, like it physically hurt.
“I-it nearly killed me,” he added softly. “Leaving you did.”
That made her stop.
Just for a second.
Her hands trembled at her sides, fingers curling like she didn’t know what to do with them.
“I waited,” she whispered. “I—I stopped waiting, and then I still waited anyway.”
Tom stepped closer, careful, like she might disappear if he moved too fast.
“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said.
Leah let out a broken laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all.
“That’s not enough,” she whispered.
Silence.
Heavy. Honest.
Then Tom lifted a hand—hesitated—and gently brushed a tear from her cheek like he still had the right to.
“I know,” he said again. “But I’m here now.”
Leah’s breath hitched.
“You don’t get to leave,” she whispered, shaking. “A-and come back like it’s simple.”
“I know,” he repeated, softer this time.
And that was it. No grand speech. No clever justification.
Just him standing there, finally not running.
Leah looked at him like she was trying to decide whether to hit him again or fall apart.
Instead, she grabbed the front of his coat.
Pulled him down.
And kissed him like all the months between them had finally been forgiven by sheer force of feeling.
Tom froze for half a heartbeat—
Then kissed her back like he had been starving the entire time.
Kill yourself: broke
I hope your favorite media gets a bad live action remake that is still prevalent enough that most people don't know the original source material: woke
Was thinking about it….Pride and Prejudice would slap if it was set in the Pokémon universe.
Darcy would propose the first time and Lizzy would square up for a Pokémon battle. Because he insulted her family.
Her Pokémon would glaring and judging Mr. Collins like crazy.
I would also find it hilarious if Jane had a level 60 Garchomp, because no one would expect it.
Mr. Darcy would definitely have a Absol because it’s the disaster Pokémon strangely it didn’t warn him not to propose I wonder why.