**Diary Entry**
I always knew we’d meet again.
A year ago, James was driving home from work when he saw her by chance. By the time he turned the car around, she was gone. Ever since, whenever sadness and memories weighed on him, he’d return to that spot, waiting in his car, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. He imagined stepping out, smiling, and saying, “Hello! What a surprise seeing you here…”
They had been in the same class at school. Just an ordinary girl, nothing extraordinary—except she was top of the class. Back then, James barely noticed her. None of the girls in his year held his interest. They’d all grown up together, spent years side by side, becoming almost like family. How could you fall in love with someone who felt like a sister? It just didn’t happen.
A-levels loomed ahead. James had never been one to stress over grades, but now the pressure was on. His mum dreamed of him studying law, following in his late father’s footsteps. But James had no interest in becoming a barrister—he wanted to work in tech, to dive into programming and artificial intelligence. For that, he needed maths.
School had become a drag, but university would be different. There, he’d learn things that actually mattered, not just random facts for the sake of it.
Mr. Thompson, his maths teacher, reminded the class at the start of the lesson that today’s test would determine their half-term grade.
“However you score today, that’s your mark. No second chances. Doesn’t matter what you’ve done before.”
The strong students tensed up; the weaker ones saw an unexpected opportunity.
James breezed through the calculations but stumbled on the final problem. Time was running out, frustration building. He glanced around—maybe he could get help. The lad in front, heavy-set Owens, wasn’t likely to oblige. Still, James tapped his back with the tip of his pen. No response.
Behind him sat Emma Whitmore, the class brain. Never one to share answers. Beside him, his mate Dave—decent bloke, terrible at maths. James tried slipping him his paper, but Dave just waved him off, muttering, “Not now, mate.”
Across the aisle was Lisa Chambers, solving the same questions. No way he’d ask her—she’d fancied him for ages, and he didn’t need that kind of attention.
Mr. Thompson paced between desks, hands clasped behind his back, tall and lean in his grey suit, stooping slightly—like a heron, James thought. He paused by Owens, shook his head, and moved on.
Time was almost up. Then—a light tap on his shoulder.
James turned. Emma met his eyes. “Give it here,” she mouthed. He slid his paper over. The teacher was getting closer. Sweat prickled his neck. What was taking her so long?
“Paynes, check your work. You’ve got time,” Mr. Thompson said, pausing by the next desk.
A moment later, a folded paper landed on James’ shoulder. He grabbed it—Emma’s neat pencil scrawl at the bottom, the solution. He scribbled it down, erasing the evidence just as the teacher’s shadow fell over his desk. Heart pounding. Had he seen? Then—the bell.
“Right, pens down. Papers on my desk,” Mr. Thompson called.
James exhaled, dropped his test in the pile, and escaped into the corridor.
“Thanks. You saved me,” he said when Emma emerged.
She shrugged. “Same paper. No trouble.”
Never expected quiet, studious Emma to help without being asked. Lisa Chambers shot him a glare on her way past. Whatever.
After school, James waited for Emma by the gates.
“How’d you know I was stuck?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“You were fidgeting. Obvious.”
“Thought I’d flunk it.”
“Applying for law?” she asked.
“How’d you—? No. Mum wants me to. I’m going into software engineering.”
“Our mums work together. Didn’t you know?”
They chatted about nothing, really.
“Lisa’s following us,” Emma said suddenly. “She fancies you.”
James shrugged. “Yeah, she’s relentless. What about you? Where are you applying?”
“Medical school.”
“Seriously? Saving lives and all that?”
“Paediatrics,” she said simply.
He didn’t see that coming. Quiet, serious Emma Whitmore, a future children’s doctor.
“Hey, explain that problem to me. Just in case it’s on the A-level,” he said as they reached her building.
Emma pulled out a notebook, explained carefully. They leaned in, heads almost touching. He could feel Lisa’s glare burning into the side of his face—until a loose strand of Emma’s hair brushed his cheek. A jolt shot through him. His breath hitched.
“Got it?” she asked, looking up.
Golden flecks sparkled in her dark eyes. Her lips moved, but James was transfixed, hearing nothing.
“Well?”
He blinked. “No. Fancy the cinema?”
She scowled, stuffing her notebook away. “You asked for help, and now—”
Before he could reply, she vanished inside.
Lisa sidled up. “I’ll go with you.”
James barely registered her words. “Piss off,” he muttered, walking away.
——
The next day, he waited for Emma again.
“Need another problem explained?” she teased.
“No. I fancy you,” he blurted, cheeks burning.
Emma studied him, ignoring the chaos of shouting kids around them.
“Come on, then,” she said at last.
“Where?”
“The cinema. You asked yesterday.”
They went. He counted his money—just enough.
After that, they were inseparable. He thought of her constantly. Gave her flowers, a stuffed polar bear for her birthday. Every glance from her in class sent warmth through him.
They got into uni—him for computer science, her for medicine. Saw each other less, but every kiss left his head spinning. He’d wait for her. No rush.
At a summer reunion after second year, Emma wasn’t there. He nearly left—until Lisa glued herself to his side. They drank, laughed, sang. Slept in a barn loft under the stars.
Half-asleep, warmth pressed against him, lips met his. “Emma—” he thought hazily.
Then Lisa’s whisper: “Don’t wake the others.”
He tried to push her away—too late.
Morning came. Lisa was gone. He left without a word, furious, praying Emma wouldn’t find out.
She already knew.
“How could you?” she hissed, slamming the door in his face.
Two days later, Lisa cornered him.
“I hate you,” he spat.
“Oh, everyone saw us,” she said sweetly. “And if I get pregnant, you’re stuck. Emma already knows. She’ll never take you back.”
His stomach lurched. Then—worse.
“I study chemistry. A drop of the right solution, and your precious Emma’s face is ruined. Or blind. Marry me, or I’ll do it.”
He believed her. The look in her eyes—cold, desperate.
So he married her. Two miserable years. Then she left him for some wealthy bloke. No kids, thank God.
Emma married too.
Years passed. James worked, bought a car, visited his mum and nan—always dodging questions about weddings.
Then one day, driving through town, he saw her. That same walk, the wind in her hair. And he remembered the first time he’d really looked at her, felt that shock of connection.
He kept returning, hoping. One day, he’d see her again. Explain. Apologize. She’d forgive him.
And then—there she was. With a little boy.
“Hello,” he said, stepping out of the car. “I’ve been hoping to run into you. Your son?”
“Oliver,” she said.
“You’re married?”
“Not anymore.” A faint smile. “Fancy coming in?”
His heart leapt. She hadn’t forgotten him.
**Lesson:** Love doesn’t fade. If you believe hard enough, if you still love—some things can be fixed.
