Oliver sat staring at his phone, hesitating for what felt like hours. Finally, he took a deep breath and pressed the call button. One ring, then another… “No, I can’t do this,” he scolded himself, about to hang up—when suddenly, Thomas’s voice crackled through the line.
“Oi, you old git! Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Hey. Just been busy, you know,” Oliver muttered.
“You alright? Need anything?” Thomas shot back, ever the concerned friend.
“All good. How’s things with you?”
“Can’t complain. Except Emily’s driving us mad. Gone and fallen in love, can you believe it? One minute she’s sobbing, next she’s dancing about. Out all hours or locked in her room. Won’t say a word about the lad, either. Speaking of—you ever tie the knot?”
Oliver swallowed hard, like he was about to dive off a cliff. Here it was—the slippery question.
“Not yet. But I’m planning to,” he said, voice strained.
“Blimey, someone finally caught the eternal bachelor? About time, mate. Don’t you dare skimp on the invite, or I’ll never forgive you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Coming round ours anytime soon?”
Oliver had braced for this. No turning back now.
“Well… actually, I’m already here. Been back a while.”
“What? You cheeky sod! You staying in some hotel? Sarah’ll have your head. When are you popping by?”
“Hold on, slow down,” Oliver laughed. “I’ll drop in soon.”
He’d been back six months. No need for Thomas to know that. Sorting the flat, job hunting, his dad’s health—plenty of excuses. But the real reason? Emily. Best not show his hand too soon.
“None of that ‘soon’ rubbish. I know you. Come round tonight,” Thomas insisted.
“Too late now. Tomorrow,” Oliver promised.
“Better not flake. Sarah’ll be over the moon.”
One step taken. If only Thomas knew the bombshell he was about to drop. Emily would’ve handled this better. Here he was, acting like some shy boy meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. “And Emily’s kept her mouth shut. Bloody hell—I held her as a newborn, and now I want to marry her.”
But let’s start at the beginning…
***
They’d been thick as thieves since uni—Thomas, Oliver, and Sarah. Both lads had fallen hard for the clever, striking girl. Plenty tried their luck, but none stood a chance against the pair. They’d even rowed over her, neither willing to back down. If Sarah suspected their rivalry, she never let on, treating them equally—never playing games, never exploiting their feelings.
It nearly came to blows once. Eventually, they shook on it: whoever Sarah picked, the other would step aside. Still, each secretly hoped she’d choose him. But Sarah gave no hints, leaving them in limbo.
Then, third year, she started favouring Oliver. His chest swelled with pride—while Thomas spiralled, skipping lectures to avoid them. Oliver turned up at his mate’s with a bottle of whisky. They drank, talked, and by dawn, Oliver realised—he didn’t love Sarah half as much as Thomas did. The man was wrecked without her.
So Oliver staged a solution: pretended to fall for another girl. Sarah, furious, accused him of betrayal. Just as he’d hoped, she found comfort in Thomas’s arms. And Thomas loved her so fiercely, she soon loved him back. Oliver ached, sure, but never regretted it. Neither Thomas nor Sarah ever guessed his role in their happiness.
They married right after graduation. Oliver stood as best man. Nine months later, Sarah gave birth. Both mates arrived at the hospital, beaming, flowers in hand. The midwife hesitated—who was the father? Thomas stepped forward, took his daughter, then passed her to Oliver.
“Here, you hold her. I’m shaking like a leaf,” he whispered.
Oliver peered into the pink blanket. A tiny miracle with rosebud lips, a button nose, velvet cheeks. His heart clenched—he could’ve wept. “She might’ve been mine,” he thought.
Days later, Oliver vanished—first to Manchester, then Scotland. He visited on holidays. Emily grew into Sarah’s double. He envied their happiness, never finding “the one” himself. Flings came and went, but nothing stuck.
***
Emily always held a special place in his heart. Maybe because of that moment in the hospital. This visit, he was stunned—she wasn’t a girl anymore, but a woman, Sarah’s spitting image. No more running hugs or cheek kisses. Just shy glances he chalked up to growing pains.
His holiday ended too soon. With his parents ageing, Oliver decided to move back. They said goodbye at home—he’d catch the early train to London, then a flight to Edinburgh.
The carriage was near-empty. Oliver shut his eyes, hoping to nap. The train lurched forward. Someone sat opposite. He felt their gaze—and jerked awake to find Emily there.
“What are you doing here?”
“Seeing you off.” Her voice was steady. “I know you don’t take me seriously, but I love you.”
His stomach dropped. “I love you too. Like a daughter.”
“You’ll miss your flight if you take me home now. Next stop, you’re getting off.”
“I knew you’d say that.” She wasn’t a child anymore—just a woman who knew what she wanted. No tears, just raw honesty that left him speechless.
“I loved your mother once. You know that. I’m thirty-seven. If I say yes, what happens? By the time you’re my age, I’ll be an old man. You’ll resent me. People will pity you. You’ll fall for someone else—”
“You’ve got it all figured out,” she cut in, switching to “you.” “What if I don’t live to see you old? Life’s fragile. Either way, I’ll break your heart. Why not be happy until then?”
Damn, she’d done her homework. Oliver floundered.
“We could just talk. Letters, calls. I’ve got uni ahead. But don’t expect me to ditch you for some clueless boy.”
“What if I meet someone?” he challenged.
“Doubt it. You just said you love me.” The train slowed. She kissed him—properly—then marched off without looking back.
Oliver pressed to the window, but the platform was empty. Had he dreamed it? Yet his lips still tingled.
She called as he queued to board. Babbling sweet nothings. And suddenly, no woman had ever stirred him like this.
Daily calls followed. Emails filled with poetry. He replied carefully—her parents might read them. Sometimes, she’d video call, twirling in prom dresses. So young. So breathtaking.
He begged her to forget him, lied about meeting someone. Silence followed. Relief—and emptiness. Then she rang again: “I never believed you.” And the cycle restarted.
When his dad fell ill, Oliver moved back for good. Found a flat near his parents, kept his return quiet—because of Emily.
He avoided her, but fate intervened. One glimpse, and he knew—he’d missed her desperately. They met in secret, chastely (though it nearly killed him). He vowed to tell her parents himself.
The day came. Oliver brought wine, roses for Sarah, violets for Emily—her favourite. The reunion was warm. Thomas had thickened, balding slightly, while Oliver stayed lean. “You’ve barely aged,” Sarah remarked.
They reminisced. Emily watched Oliver, soft-eyed. Thomas noticed.
“Let’s step out.” On the landing, he turned. “Spill it.”
Oliver confessed. Apologised. Said he’d fought his feelings—and hers.
“So what, I should die? Disappear? Your call.”
“Revenge for Sarah? Is Emily pregnant?” Thomas snarled.
“You know me better. I never touched Sarah—let alone your daughter. Maybe I should go.”
That night, Emily turned up in tears. Her parents had exploded. Oliver calmed her, drove her home—sober, thank God.
“Come in,” Thomas sighed. “What choice do we have? She’s headstrong. One condition: she finishes uni.”
“You’re the best, Dad!” Emily flung her arms around him.
They married quietly, just family. Their first dance left no dry eyes. That night, Oliver realised—he’d loved her since the hospital blanket, the pink ribbon.
Then Sarah fell ill. Thomas was a ghost. Oliver pulled strings, sold his car, drained his savings to send them to Germany.
The illness relented—for now. And Emily? Another surprise. The moment her parents returned hopeful, she announced her pregnancy. Even Oliver was stunned.
“Mum, I need you,” she whispered, hugging Sarah.
Oliver understood—Emily was giving her mother a reason to fight. For the grandchild. For Thomas. Because he knew damn well Emily could handle it alone.
And as Oliver held his newborn son, watching Emily’s tired but radiant smile, he finally understood that love wasn’t about timing or logic—it was about the quiet courage to embrace happiness when it dared to knock, no matter how unexpected or unfair it seemed.
