Lydia stood outside Steven’s flat, fiddling nervously with the strap of her handbag. Two and a half years ago, she had stormed out, slamming the door behind her, convinced that Paul, his wealthy friend with a flashy car, would give her the life she dreamed of. But Paul wasn’t who she thought he was, and now Lydia had decided to return. “Steven always loved me,” she told herself. “He’ll take me back—where else would he go?” She pressed the doorbell, smoothed her hair, and forced a smile. The door swung open, and Steven’s stunned “Well, this is a surprise! What brings you here?” made her feel a flicker of confidence.
“I’m back,” she beamed, inhaling the scent of roast potatoes and beefsteak. “Cooking dinner? Smells lovely.” Steven frowned. “Back? Here?” Lydia nodded, but his next words threw her off. “We’ve already eaten. Sorry, can’t invite you in.” “We?” she echoed, a knot of dread tightening in her chest. “Who’s ‘we’?” Just then, a woman stepped out of the kitchen. Lydia squinted—then gasped. It was Olivia, her old friend, the one she’d once clinked glasses of prosecco with while plotting how to leave Steven.
Lydia and Steven had married five years ago, but their marriage was a battleground. She wanted the high life—fancy restaurants, holidays abroad, designer dresses. Steven, an engineer at a factory, earned a modest wage, though he tried his best. His parents sent homemade preserves from the countryside to save money, but Lydia scoffed, “I don’t want their jam and cheese!” She blew her own salary on clothes and a new phone on credit, then demanded more from Steven. “You’re a loser,” she’d snap. “Why did I ever marry you?” He begged her to tidy the flat, but she refused. “It’s your place—I’m not the housekeeper.”
Everything changed when Lydia fell for Paul. Charming, wealthy, he wined and dined her, promising the world. Olivia warned her, “Lyd, Paul’s a player—think twice!” But Lydia didn’t listen. She packed her bags, tossed Steven the keys, and left with Paul without so much as a goodbye. Olivia stayed behind, cleaning up the mess Lydia had left. Lydia had laughed then: “Take Steven if you want him—he’s yours!” She never imagined her words would come true.
Life with Paul was no fairytale. He was generous but controlling, and his “late nights” with other women wore her down. After two years, she heard Steven had been promoted, bought a car, and stayed single. “He’s waiting for me,” she decided, scribbling a note to Paul and leaving. But now, standing in the doorway, she stared at Olivia, who simply said, “Hello, Lydia. Why so shocked? You gave him to me.”
Lydia’s cheeks burned. “You’re married?” she choked out. Steven nodded. “Yes, Lydia. And we’re happy. What did you expect?” She faltered. “I thought… maybe we could…” Olivia cut in gently, “Lydia, you’ve got your parents. They’ll be glad to see you. Steven and I have plans. Goodbye.” The door shut, leaving Lydia alone on the landing, clutching her bag.
She remembered how Olivia used to clean the flat, bake cakes, visit her gran. Lydia had mocked her “simplicity,” but now she understood—Olivia gave Steven what she never could: care, warmth, love. Lydia considered crawling back to Paul, but the note she’d left had burned that bridge. Her parents? They’d distanced themselves, hurt by her choices. She sank onto the bench outside, the world crumbling around her. “What have I done?” she whispered—but no answer came.
Inside, Steven and Olivia set the table for supper. A month later, they welcomed twins, and Steven’s parents, adoring their new daughter-in-law, couldn’t have been prouder. Lydia, meanwhile, was left with nothing but regret. Life, as Olivia had warned, doesn’t forgive those who trade what’s real for empty dreams.
