Lydia stood outside Simon’s front door, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Two and a half years ago, she had stormed out, slamming the door behind her, convinced that Paul—his wealthy friend with the flashy car—would give her the glamorous life she craved. But Paul had turned out to be nothing like she imagined, and now Lydia was back. “Simon always loved me,” she thought. “He’ll take me back. Where else would he go?” She pressed the doorbell, smoothed her hair, and forced a smile. Simon opened the door, his shocked expression giving way to a dry, “Well, look who’s here! What brings you this way?” The surprise in his voice made her stand a little taller.
“I’m back,” she said, breathing in the scent of fried potatoes and sausages. “Cooking dinner? Smells lovely.” Simon frowned. “Back where? Here?” She nodded, but his next question threw her. “We’ve already eaten. Sorry, not inviting you in.”
“We?” She faltered, a cold knot forming in her stomach. “Who’s ‘we’?” Just then, a woman stepped out from the kitchen. Lydia’s breath caught—it was Olivia, her old friend, the one she’d once shared champagne with while plotting her escape from Simon.
Five years ago, Lydia and Simon had married, but their life together had been a battlefield. She wanted fine dining, holidays abroad, designer dresses. Simon, an engineer at a modest factory, worked hard but earned little. His parents sent groceries from the countryside to save money, but Lydia sneered, “I don’t want their eggs and cheese!” She spent her own wages on clothes and new phones bought on credit, then demanded more from him. “You’re a failure,” she’d spat. “Why did I ever marry you?” When he asked her to tidy their flat, she’d scoffed, “This is *your* place. I’m not the housekeeper.”
Everything changed when Paul came along. Charming, wealthy, he whisked her off to fancy bistros and promised her the world. Olivia had warned her—“Lydia, he’s a player, think this through!”—but Lydia hadn’t listened. She packed her bags, tossed Simon the keys, and left without a word. Olivia had stayed behind, cleaning up the mess Lydia left in her wake. “Take Simon if you want him,” Lydia had laughed then. “He’s all yours.” She never imagined those words would come true.
Life with Paul was no fairy tale. His generosity came with strings, and his affairs were something she endured—until she couldn’t anymore. Two years later, she heard Simon had been promoted, bought a car, and remained single. “He’s waiting for me,” she decided, leaving Paul a note before fleeing back. But now, standing in the doorway, she stared at Olivia, who simply said, “Hello, Lydia. Why the shock? You gave him to me.”
Lydia’s face burned. “You’re married?” she choked out. Simon nodded. “Yes, Lydia. And we’re happy. What did you expect?” She stumbled over her words. “I thought… maybe we could…” Olivia cut in gently, “You’ve got your family, Lydia. They’ll be glad to see you. But Simon and I have plans. Goodbye.” The door clicked shut, leaving her alone on the step, clutching her bag like an anchor.
She remembered Olivia scrubbing that flat, baking pies, visiting her gran—all the things Lydia had mocked as “quaint.” Now she understood: Olivia had given Simon what she never could—warmth, comfort, love. Returning to Paul wasn’t an option; her note had burned that bridge. Her parents? They’d distanced themselves, wounded by her choices. Sinking onto the bench outside, she whispered, “What have I done?” But the night offered no reply.
Inside, Simon and Olivia set the table. A month later, twins arrived, and Simon’s parents adored their new daughter-in-law. Lydia, though, was left with nothing but regrets. Life, as Olivia once warned, doesn’t forgive those who trade what’s real for empty dreams.
