The world had shifted. Everything would be different now. She promised…
The workday was nearly over—barely twenty minutes until the shop closed. At this hour, customers were rare. This wasn’t a grocery store where you could grab what you needed in five minutes. Electronics required thought. They cost serious money.
Emily glanced across the spacious household appliances showroom. Empty. Even the sales assistants had slipped into the stockroom. Only the security guard lingered by the entrance, eyes glued to his laptop screen. She had a feeling he was either playing solitaire or scrolling through the news.
She, too, headed for the back room—she needed to call her husband, ask him to peel the potatoes so she wouldn’t waste time cooking dinner later. Using personal phones on the shop floor was forbidden. Management could review CCTV at any moment and reprimand them.
Just then, a man walked in and made straight for the tablet displays. Still no sales assistants in sight. The guard stepped out of his booth but stayed near the entrance, watching the customer. He wasn’t allowed to leave his post. Emily sighed and approached the man.
“How can I help you?” she asked, her voice bright with practiced politeness.
The man turned swiftly.
“I need a tablet. This one,” he said, jabbing a finger at a display model.
Emily forgot how to breathe. As if she’d seen a ghost—and in a way, she had. It was *him*. The love she’d lost. She couldn’t be wrong. But how? Why now?
When she didn’t respond, the man turned fully, studying her.
“Emily? Emily! Is that really you?” His face lit up.
“Yes. What are you doing here? We’re closing in—” she glanced at her wristwatch, “—fifteen minutes.”
“Too late to buy something?” He scanned the deserted shop. “Shame.”
“We stay open until the last customer leaves. I’d recommend this model—slightly pricier, but better quality,” she said, slipping into professional mode.
“Fine. I’ll trust your expertise,” Richard agreed.
Emily bent down, retrieving an unopened box from beneath the display. “Come with me—we’ll sort the paperwork.”
She led him to the till, fingers trembling as she keyed in the details. She kept hitting the wrong buttons, flustered, embarrassed that he could see her panic.
“Head to the till. I’ll call a cashier,” she said abruptly, then hurried to the stockroom, desperate to escape his gaze.
A group of young staff huddled around a table, deep in discussion.
“Someone cover the till. I’ve processed a sale,” she said.
They scattered, one of the lads rushing out. Emily checked her watch—her shift was over. She had every right to leave.
She never called her husband. She’d forgotten he existed. Her hands still shook. Why? Why did they have to meet again? She’d hoped never to see him. She changed quickly and slipped out the back entrance, where deliveries were usually taken.
The wet pavement gleamed under streetlights. Rain still drizzled, but Emily walked home. Only three stops away—she needed time to collect herself, to steady her nerves…
***
She’d fallen for Richard the moment she saw him. Knew he was a final-year student, that his name was Richard Whitmore, that half the girls at university swooned over him. But she couldn’t help it. Her heart hammered whenever she spotted him in the corridors.
Once, in the canteen, she ended up beside him. So nervous she barely remembered what she’d grabbed.
“Got any cash?” he asked. “Hey, you listening?”
“What?” Emily finally registered he was speaking to her.
“Cash. Got any? Card reader’s down. Cover me, I’ll pay you back.”
She nodded, fumbling in her purse.
When she moved away from the till, he called her over. Few seats were free, so she stiffly approached his table, setting her tray down opposite him. Richard devoured his mash and gravy. Emily avoided his gaze, staring at her untouched food.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he teased. “First year?”
“Yes,” she said, lifting her eyes.
She was dazed, lost in disbelief—*she was sitting with him, talking to him*.
“Strange girl. What’s your name?”
“Emily.”
“Fancy. *Emily*,” he repeated.
“Named after my gran,” she mumbled.
He finished his meal, gulped his juice, while Emily’s food went cold.
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.” Richard studied her. “Meet me here tomorrow, same time. Let’s eat together. Enjoy,” he smirked, then left.
She finally exhaled. Had that really happened?
Next day, she barely made it through lectures, checking the clock constantly. Richard wasn’t in the canteen. Stupid to expect him. She’d turned to leave but decided to grab something. Salad, a juice, a roll.
At the till, Richard suddenly appeared, paying for her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. He carried her tray to a table, sitting opposite.
“Not eating?” she dared to ask.
“Already did. Got out early.”
He watched her openly.
“Listen, a few of us are at Chris’s place tonight. Parents are away. Come with me. We’ll dance, hang out. Where d’you live?”
“Edgbaston.”
“That’s close. Which house?” She told him. “I’ll meet you at seven. Enjoy.”
At seven, he was there. The flat was packed—people she didn’t know. Emily felt out of place. No one noticed her. Not even Richard—dancing, disappearing, returning. Girls draped over him. Bored, she headed for the hallway. She had a test tomorrow—maybe she could revise. Their coats were buried under others.
“Leaving? I’ll walk you,” Richard said, appearing beside her.
Outside, the wine steadied her nerves. She even managed to talk. He chatted, asked questions—none of which she remembered. Then he kissed her, and she nearly fainted. She didn’t study. Stayed up all night replaying it.
They started dating. Emily floated, ignoring friends who warned of Richard’s reputation, her mum’s disapproval. Who cared? *Richard Whitmore loved her!* She nearly failed her exams, scraping passes, losing her scholarship.
“Mum, I love him. He’s perfect. We’ll marry,” she said when her mum finally confronted her.
“Bit young, aren’t you? Already failing—next you’ll drop out,” her mum muttered.
Then Richard vanished. Stopped calling. Emily got his address from the registrar. His mum answered the door.
“He’s not here. Gone to his father’s.”
“Gone? He never said. When’s he back?” Emily babbled.
“Doubt it’ll be soon. His dad’s got a business in Manchester. Better opportunities.”
“Can I have his number?”
“Love, if he didn’t give it to you, he didn’t want you calling. Get the hint?” The door shut.
Emily staggered home, stunned. How could he do this? No goodbye, no warning. Why say he loved her if he was leaving?
Three days she sobbed, refusing to leave her room. The GP prescribed pills—she flushed them. Didn’t want to live. Then she got up. Went through the motions. Like a robot.
She took forever to recover. Then met Tony at a clothes shop, hunting for a New Year’s dress. He asked for advice—his sister’s birthday. They spent New Year’s together.
“Tony’s a good man,” her mum urged, relieved Emily was moving on.
She didn’t care. When Tony proposed in fourth year, she said yes.
He knew she didn’t love him. Hoped his love would be enough. When their son was born, Emily poured herself into motherhood. Tony became invisible. Naturally, he strayed—hoping jealousy might spark something. It didn’t.
When he confessed about the other woman, she didn’t flinch. Let him go. Yet he stayed. Their son grew up, nearly finished school.
***
Emily had thought she’d forgotten Richard. This encounter shattered her. Old feelings surged—logic fought heart, but won. She wouldn’t let him ruin her life again. Likely they’d never meet again.
At home, Tony was frying potatoes.
“Finally. Hungry? Nearly done. Get changed, wash up.”
Dinner was ready when she returned—even a bottle of white wine.
“Special occasion?” she asked.
“Just because.” Tony poured.
Later, watching TV, she asked, “Why didn’t you leave me back then?”
He knew what she meant.
“Because I love you. I know you never did. Never a kind word. Maybe I was wrong.”
She didn’t answer. Yesterday, she would have. Today… They said a loving heart sensed everything. Had Tony felt it?
“I’m tired. Early shift. Let’s sleep.”
Next day, Richard returnedThe rain had stopped by the time she got home, but the dampness lingered—like old memories, faint but never truly gone.
