The Bouquet
Faith lay on her bed, eyes half-closed. Across the room, Olivia sat cross-legged on the opposite bed, reading aloud from a textbook. Faith’s phone erupted with a popular ringtone. Olivia snapped her book shut and gave her friend a disapproving look.
Faith sighed and answered. A moment later, she sat bolt upright. Then she tossed the phone aside, leapt up, and began darting around the cramped room, stuffing clothes from the wardrobe into a gym bag.
“Where are you going? What happened?” Olivia asked, alarmed.
“Neighbour called. Mum’s been rushed to hospital—heart attack.” Faith yanked the bag’s zip shut and headed for the door, where their jackets hung and boots sat in a messy pile.
“The exam’s tomorrow! She’s in hospital—they’ll take care of her. Sit it, then go,” Olivia said, standing as Faith tugged on her boots.
“Listen, Liv, explain it to the dean’s office. I’ll sort everything when I’m back. I’ll retake it over the break. My coach leaves in forty minutes,” Faith said, already fastening her coat.
“Call me when you know how she is,” Olivia called, but Faith was already out the door. The sharp clatter of heels faded down the hallway.
Olivia sighed and turned back, then froze. Faith’s phone charger still lay on the bed. She snatched it up and dashed out barefoot, pounding down the stairs.
“Faith! Faith, wait!”
The front door slammed below. Olivia vaulted the last few steps, shoved the door open, and nearly tumbled onto the pavement after her.
“Faith!”
Her friend turned, saw the cable in Olivia’s hand, and hurried back.
“Thanks.” Then she was off again.
“Wilson! What’s going on? One slams the door, the other bolts outside barefoot. You two been smoking something?” The hall warden, Mrs. Higgins, frowned over her clipboard.
“Sorry, Mrs. Higgins. No smoking. Faith’s mum’s in hospital. Cold out—can I go?” Olivia didn’t wait for an answer, already retreating upstairs.
“Oh, Lord,” Mrs. Higgins muttered, sinking into her chair. “God help us.”
Back in the room, Olivia brushed grit from her feet, tidied Faith’s mess, slipped on her slippers, and filled the kettle. The exam was tomorrow. Tea. Revision.
A timid knock sounded at the door as darkness fell.
“Who’s there?” Olivia called. No answer. She sighed, opened the door.
“Hi.” Anthony stood there, clutching a small bouquet.
“Come in.” She waited until he stepped inside. “Faith’s gone home.”
“But her exam’s tomorrow,” he said, surprised.
“I’ll explain to the dean. She’ll retake it later.” Olivia eyed the flowers.
“These are for you,” he said, holding them out.
“Cheers. Fancy a cuppa?” She took the bouquet to the window, fetched a jar.
“I’ll get water. You make yourself comfy.” She smiled and left.
Anthony only removed his shoes. Two steps brought him to Faith’s bed. He sat, running a hand over the cheap duvet as if stroking her.
Olivia returned, set the jar with flowers on the desk, stepped back to admire them.
“Pretty. What are they?”
“Sweet peas,” Anthony said. “I should go.” He stood.
“You and Faith had plans, didn’t you?” Olivia asked quickly. She didn’t want him to leave.
“Yeah. Got tickets for a gig.”
“Really? Take me, then. No point wasting them.”
Anthony hesitated.
“You’ve got your exam.”
“So? I’ve been revising all day. Need a break.”
He wavered. Faith was gone. The tickets would go to waste. They’d only just started seeing each other—nothing serious. Going with her flatmate wasn’t betrayal, was it?
“Alright,” he said.
“Yes!” Olivia jumped, clapping. “Wait outside—I’ll get dressed.”
“Right.” He laced his shoes and stepped into the hall.
Five minutes later, Olivia emerged. Anthony noticed she’d redone her lashes and lips, pinned up her hair. How?
“Come on, we’ll miss it,” he urged.
At the gig, Olivia danced, arms high, shouting lyrics in joyful abandon. She kept glancing at Anthony. He caught her energy, loosened up, yelled along.
After, they walked back, buzzing.
“I loved that bit,” Olivia hummed a riff.
“Me too. And when—” Anthony mimicked the guitarist’s solo.
They reached the dorm. Olivia jiggled the locked door.
“Mrs. Higgins is on duty. No way she’ll let us in. What now?”
“Come on.” He took her arm, leading her around the building. Two girls were clambering through a ground-floor window. “Quick—after them.”
He boosted Olivia up. Hands pulled her inside. Then a whistle shrieked around the corner.
“Hurry!” Olivia hissed from the window.
Anthony hauled himself in. Olivia yanked the curtain shut. The whistle faded. They exchanged glances.
“Ta. We’ll go,” Anthony nudged Olivia toward the door.
Giggles followed them. They sprinted upstairs, collapsed in Olivia’s room, laughing.
“Quiet now. I’d better go,” Anthony said.
The room was dark—they hadn’t turned on the light.
“Stay. I like you. Really like you,” Olivia whispered, as if someone might hear.
She pressed close, tipped her head back, lips parting—
Faith returned to a hushed dorm at term’s end. Olivia and Anthony were still away, like most students. Faith arranged her missed exam, provided the hospital note. Her mum was out of danger but still recovering.
She barely passed. Term resumed. Olivia never came back, didn’t answer calls. The dean said she’d taken leave for health reasons.
A new girl moved in. Studies, Anthony… No time to wonder about Olivia. Soon, everyone forgot. Anthony never told Faith about the gig, what happened after. It felt like a dream.
Twenty-one years later
“Mum, Dad, I’m home!” A girl who looked just like Anthony walked in.
“How’s uni?” He lowered his paper.
“Let her change,” Faith called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”
At the table, their daughter grinned.
“Met a girl at uni today. Looks just like me. Everyone noticed.”
“That happens. Everyone’s got a double,” Faith said. “Another sausage?”
“Dad, you okay?” Their daughter nudged him.
“Full, thanks. You talk to her?”
“Course. She’s a final year. Get this—her name’s Claire. Claire Bright.”
“I shared a room with a Claire Wilson… Olivia, I think. She left after first year. Remember, Anthony?” Faith studied him.
“Yeah! Claire Wilson. Pretty name, right?” their daughter chimed.
“I only had eyes for you,” Anthony said, sipping tea. He choked. “How many times must I ask for cooler water?”
“Sorry.” Faith fetched cold water.
“Don’t want it.” He left the table.
“Really that alike?” Faith murmured at his back.
“Spitting image.”
Anthony lay on the sofa, feigning sleep. *Coincidence? No. It happened. Admit it. Why’d she leave? Idiot.*
“Anthony, up. You’ll ruin your sleep. You ill?” Faith asked.
“No.”
He barely slept. Next morning, he called in sick—dentist, he lied—and drove to the dorms.
“Claire Wilson live here?” he asked the warden.
A different woman, but just like Mrs. Higgins from years ago.
“You are?”
“Her uncle. Passing through.”
The warden frowned. Three girls descended the stairs.
“There she is. Wilson, visitor.”
“Who?” The girl eyed Anthony.
“You coming?” her friends called.
“Go ahead. Who are you?”
“Let’s talk outside.” She didn’t budge.
“You’re not her uncle?” the warden cut in. “I’m calling security—”
“No need.” Anthony turned to the girl. “Your mum—Olivia Wilson? Born 25th September?”
Her eyes widened. “And you’re…? What do you want? Where’ve you been?”
“Outside.”
She followed. “I didn’t know about you. Your mum and I… It was once. You’ve got lectures. When do you finish?”
“Three.”
At 3:20, he waited by the uni gates. She emerged late. His daughter might spot them.
He beeped. Claire approached.
“Get in. I’ll explain.”
She hesitated, then sat.
“Hungry? Café?”
“Just talk.”
“Olivia shared a room with my wife—Faith. We’d just started seeing each other… I never thought she’d get pregnant. Later, it felt like a dream. Then she left, andAnthony handed Claire his card, whispering, “Call me anytime,” as she stepped out of the car, and watched her walk away, the weight of the past finally settling between them like the last petal of a long-withered bouquet.
