Things are going to be different now. I promise…
The workday was nearly over. Just twenty minutes until the shop closed. At this hour, customers were rare—it wasn’t a grocery store where you could grab what you needed in five minutes. Electronics took thought. They cost a pretty penny.
Emily scanned the spacious floor of the home appliances shop. Empty. Even the sales assistants had slipped into the back room. Only the security guard by the entrance remained, glued to his laptop screen. She had a hunch he was either playing solitaire or scrolling through the news.
She headed to the back room herself, intending to call her husband and ask him to peel the potatoes so she’d have less to do for dinner. Using personal phones on the sales floor was forbidden—management could check the camera footage and dock their pay if they caught you.
Just then, a man walked in and made a beeline for the tablet displays. Still no assistants in sight. The guard stepped out of his booth but stayed near the entrance, keeping an eye on the visitor—he wasn’t allowed to leave his post. Emily sighed and walked over.
“How can I help you?” she asked brightly.
The man turned sharply.
“I need a tablet. This one,” he said, jabbing a finger at a display model.
Emily forgot how to breathe. It was like seeing a ghost—because, in a way, she was. *Him.* The one who got away. She couldn’t mistake that face. But… how?
The man didn’t get a reply, so he turned fully, studying her.
“Emily? Emily! Is that really you?” His face lit up at the unexpected reunion.
“Yes. What are you doing here? We close in…” She checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Do I have time to buy one?” He glanced around the near-empty shop. “Shame.”
“We stay open till the last customer leaves. I can recommend this one—slightly pricier, but better quality,” she said, slipping into her professional tone.
“Alright. I’ll trust your judgment,” James agreed.
Emily bent to grab an unopened box from under the display. “Come with me, I’ll ring you up.”
At the counter, her fingers shook. She kept hitting the wrong keys, making mistakes. Knowing he could see her flustered state only made it worse.
“Head to the till. I’ll call the cashier,” she said before hurrying to the back room, desperate to escape his gaze.
A group of young staff were huddled around the table, chatting.
“Someone needs to cover the till. I’ve processed the sale,” she said.
They scattered, one lad rushing out to the shop floor. Emily checked the time—her shift was over. She had every right to leave.
She’d forgotten to call her husband. Had forgotten about him entirely. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. *Why?* Why did they have to meet again? She’d hoped never to see him. She changed quickly and slipped out the back exit, where deliveries were usually taken.
Wet pavement glistened under streetlights. The rain had eased to a drizzle, but Emily walked home anyway—just three stops away. She needed to clear her head…
***
She’d fallen for James the moment she first saw him. Knew he was in his final year at uni, that his name was James Whitmore, that half the girls in their lectures lost their minds over him. But she couldn’t help it. Her heart raced whenever she spotted him in the corridors.
One day in the canteen, she ended up beside him. Nerves turned her brain to mush—she barely noticed what she was grabbing.
“Got any cash? Hey, you listening?”
“What?” Emily finally registered he was talking to *her.*
“Cash. Asked if you’ve got any. Card reader’s down. Cover me, yeah? I’ll pay you back.”
She nodded and fumbled for her purse.
As she moved away from the till, he called her over. With few free seats, she walked stiffly to his table and sat opposite him. James was already demolishing mashed potatoes and gravy. Emily focused on her tray, knowing she wouldn’t manage a bite.
“Not hungry?” he teased. “First year, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, risking a glance.
She was dazed, disbelieving. Sitting across from her crush. *Talking* to him.
“You’re odd. What’s your name?”
“Emily.”
“Odd name, too. *Emily,*” he repeated.
“It’s my gran’s name,” she mumbled.
He finished his meal, chugged his juice, while Emily’s food went untouched.
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.” James studied her. “Meet me here tomorrow, same time. We’ll eat together. Enjoy.” He smirked and left.
Emily exhaled. Was this real? Had he just asked her to lunch?
The next day, she barely lasted till her lecture ended, constantly checking the clock. No sign of James in the canteen. Had she really expected him to wait? Deflated, she grabbed a salad and a roll, nearly paying when James appeared and covered it.
“Ta,” she mumbled. He carried her tray to his table and sat opposite.
“Aren’t you eating?” she dared to ask.
“Already did. Got out early.”
He watched her openly.
“Listen, we’re at Robbie’s tonight. His parents are away—place to ourselves. Fancy it? Bit of music, drinks. Where d’you live?”
“Off Kensington Road.”
“That’s dead close. What number?” She told him. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Enjoy.”
At seven, he was there. The flat was packed—faces she didn’t know. Emily felt out of place. No one noticed her, including James. He danced with girls, vanished, reappeared. Watching them cling to him made her sick. She grabbed her coat—hanging at the bottom of the pile—and headed for the door.
“Off already? I’ll walk you,” James said, suddenly beside her.
Outside, the wine she’d had calmed her nerves. She even managed small talk—though she remembered none of it later. And when he kissed her? She nearly fainted. No studying happened that night. She lay awake, replaying it.
They started seeing each other. Emily floated, ignoring friends who warned her about James’s reputation, her mum’s disapproval. Who cared? *James Whitmore* loved *her.* She nearly failed her summer exams—scraped by with two Cs, losing her scholarship.
“Mum, I love him. He’s *perfect.* We’re getting married,” she insisted when her mum finally confronted her.
“Bit soon, isn’t it? Flunking exams already—next you’ll drop out,” her mum muttered.
Then James vanished. Stopped calling. Emily got his address from the registrar and went to his flat. His mum answered.
“James isn’t here. Gone to his dad’s.”
“*Gone?* He didn’t say—When’s he back?” Emily stammered.
“Not soon. His dad’s got a firm in Manchester. Better opportunities there.”
“Can I have his number?” she whispered.
“Love, if he didn’t give it, he didn’t want you to have it. Take the hint,” his mum said before shutting the door.
Emily walked home in a daze. How could he do this? Leave without a word? All those promises—*lies.*
She spent three days sobbing in her room. Her mum called a doctor, who prescribed pills she flushed. She didn’t want to live. But on the fourth day, she got up. Carried on, numb.
It took months to recover. Then she met Tom in a department store, shopping for a New Year’s dress. He asked for help picking one for his sister, then invited her to her birthday. They saw in the New Year together.
“Tom’s lovely. Give him a chance,” her mum urged, relieved Emily was moving on.
Emily didn’t care either way. When Tom proposed in their final year, she said yes.
He knew she didn’t love him. Hoped his love would be enough. When their son was born, Emily poured everything into him—barely noticing Tom. He started staying out. Maybe jealousy would wake her up. It didn’t.
When he confessed to seeing someone else, she didn’t flinch. Told him to leave. But he stayed. Their son grew up—nearly finished school now.
***
Emily thought she’d forgotten James. Then this chance meeting threw her. Logic fought her heart—and won. She wouldn’t let him wreck her life again. Likely, they’d never cross paths again.
At home, Tom was frying potatoes.
“Finally. Hungry? Nearly done. Get changed and wash up.”
When she returned, the table was set—even a bottle of white wine.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked, sitting.
“No reason. Fancied treating you.” He poured the wine.
After dinner, they sat watching telly.
She leaned into him, whispering, “I love you,” and for the first time, she meant it with all her heart.
