**Diary Entry – A Chance Encounter**
The workday was nearly over. Just twenty minutes until the shop closed. At this hour, customers were rare—it wasn’t a corner shop where you could grab a pint of milk. Appliances needed thought. They cost a pretty penny.
Emily glanced across the spacious showroom of the electronics store. Empty. Even the sales assistants had slipped into the back room. Only the security guard lingered by the entrance, eyes glued to his laptop screen. She’d bet her last quid he was playing solitaire or scrolling through the news.
She headed toward the back room herself, needing to call her husband, James. Ask him to peel the potatoes so she could save time on dinner. Staff weren’t allowed personal calls on the shop floor—management reviewed CCTV, and they’d dock her pay in a heartbeat.
Then a man walked in, heading straight for the tablets. Still no assistants in sight. The guard shifted from his post but didn’t move far—he wasn’t meant to leave the door. Emily sighed and approached the customer.
“How can I help?” she asked brightly.
The man turned sharply.
“Need a tablet. That one.” He jabbed a finger at the display model.
Emily’s breath caught. It was like seeing a ghost—because, in a way, she was. Him. The one who got away. She couldn’t mistake those eyes. But how? Why?
He hadn’t waited for an answer. Instead, he turned fully, studying her face.
“Emily? Bloody hell, it *is* you!” His grin was instant, disarming.
“It is. What are you doing here? We close in—” she checked her watch, “fifteen minutes.”
“Too late, then?” He glanced around the near-empty shop. “Shame.”
“We serve till the last customer leaves. That model’s decent, but for a bit more, you’d get better specs,” she said, slipping into her professional tone.
“Go on, then. I’ll trust you,” said Oliver.
She bent to fetch an unopened box from beneath the display. “Come with me—I’ll sort the paperwork.”
Her hands trembled as she typed, fingers fumbling over the keys. She knew he noticed. The harder she tried to steady herself, the worse it got.
“Head to the till. I’ll fetch the cashier.” She hurried to the back room, desperate to escape his gaze.
A group of lads were gathered round a table, chatting.
“Someone cover the till. Sale’s processed,” she said.
They scattered, one bolting for the shop floor. Emily checked her watch again. Shift over—she had every right to leave.
She’d forgotten to call James. Forgotten he *existed*. Her hands still shook. Why? Why did *he* have to walk back in? She’d prayed never to see Oliver again. She changed quickly, slipping out the staff entrance where deliveries came in.
The pavement glistened under streetlights. A drizzle lingered, but she walked. Only three stops away—she needed the air, the quiet, to clear her head.
—
**Flashback**
She’d loved Oliver from the moment she saw him. Knew he was a final-year student, knew his name—Oliver Fairfax—knew half the girls at uni fancied him. Didn’t matter. Her heart raced every time she spotted him in the corridors.
Once, in the canteen, she’d ended up beside him. Nerves turned her brain to mush. She barely registered what she’d grabbed.
“You got cash?” His voice snapped her back.
“What?”
“Cash. The card reader’s down. Cover me, I’ll pay you back.”
She nodded, fumbling in her bag.
As she moved away from the till, he called her over. Few free seats—she’d numbly sat opposite him. Oliver demolished his burger. She couldn’t swallow a bite.
“Not hungry?” He smirked. “First year?”
“Yeah,” she managed.
“Strange girl. What’s your name?”
“Emily.”
“Unusual. Emily,” he repeated.
“After my gran,” she mumbled.
He finished his meal, gulped his drink, while her food went cold.
“Don’t worry—I’ll pay you back.” His eyes locked onto hers. “Same time tomorrow. We’ll eat together.”
He left her reeling. Had he just *asked* her?
Next day, she barely sat through lectures. The canteen was packed—no Oliver. Of course. What had she expected? She grabbed a sandwich, then froze as he appeared at the till, paying for her.
“Ta,” she muttered. He took her tray to his table.
“Not eating?” she dared to ask.
“Already did. Got out early.”
His gaze was direct, unnerving.
“Listen, a few of us are at Jake’s tonight. His parents are away. Fancy coming? Dance, mingle. Where d’you live?”
“Windsor Road.”
“That’s close. Which house?” She told him. “I’ll meet you at seven.”
He was there, leaning against the lamppost. The party was loud, full of strangers. She felt out of place. Oliver danced with other girls, vanished, reappeared. She gave up watching, grabbed her coat.
“Off already?” He materialized beside her. “I’ll walk you.”
Outside, the night air helped. A few drinks had loosened her tongue. He talked, she nodded, but all she remembered was the kiss that left her dizzy. She didn’t sleep. Didn’t study.
They started dating. She floated on cloud nine, ignoring friends who warned her about Oliver’s reputation, her mum’s disapproval. Who cared? *Oliver Fairfax loved her!* She nearly failed her summer exams—scraped through with two Cs, lost her bursary.
“Mum, I love him. We’ll marry,” she’d said during the inevitable talk.
“At nineteen? You’re throwing your future away.”
Then he vanished. No calls. No visits. She got his address from the registry, knocked. His mum answered.
“Oliver’s not here. Gone to his dad’s.”
“Gone? He didn’t— When’s he back?”
“Not soon. His father’s business is in Manchester. Better opportunities there.”
“Can I have his number?”
“If he wanted you to have it, he’d have given it.” The door shut.
She walked home in a daze. How could he? No goodbye, no warning. All those promises—lies.
Three days she sobbed, barely left her room. Her mum called a doctor. Pills were prescribed; she flushed them. Life felt pointless. But on the fourth day, she got up. Went through the motions like a robot.
It took months to feel human again. Then she met James at a clothes shop, buying a New Year’s dress. He asked for help picking one for his sister, later invited her to her birthday. They saw in the new year together.
“James is a good man,” her mum nudged, relieved she’d moved on.
Emily didn’t care. When James proposed in her final year, she said yes.
He knew she didn’t love him. Hoped she’d grow to. When their son was born, she poured herself into motherhood. James became an afterthought. Naturally, he strayed. Thought jealousy might spark something. It didn’t.
When he confessed, she didn’t flinch. Let him go. Yet he stayed. They co-existed. Their son was nearly grown.
—
**Present**
She’d thought she’d forgotten Oliver. But this encounter unraveled her. Logic warred with emotion—logic won. She wouldn’t let him wreck her life again.
At home, James was frying potatoes.
“Finally. Hungry? Won’t be long.”
The table was set when she returned from washing up—even a bottle of Chablis.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Fancied treating you.” He poured the wine.
Later, by the telly:
“Why didn’t you leave me back then?”
He knew exactly what she meant.
“Because I love you. You’ve never loved me—not a single ‘darling’ in twenty years. Maybe I was daft to stay. Did you ever feel *anything*?”
Yesterday, she’d have had an answer. Today… They say hearts sense things. Had James sensed *him*?
“I’m tired. Early shift tomorrow.”
Next day, Oliver returned. Must’ve checked her rota. Rain hammered the streets. In a café, he explained his sudden departure, his divorce, his return. Apologies. Compliments.
“Felt like a coward. Meant to write… Got tangled in life. Married. Wasn’t ready then. Seeing you now… You married?”
“Yes. Son’s finishing school.”
“Emily—you still love me? I *saw* your hands shake. Ran from me yesterday…”
“Who’s the tablet for?”
“My daughter. Surprise visit. Her birthday.” He leaned in. “We could start fresh.”
For aShe chose love over a ghost, and when James finally came home drenched from the rain, she held him tight, realizing he had been her anchor all along.
