If It Weren’t for You…
Emily and Sophie had been friends since they were little, attending the same nursery and sharing a desk at school. As they grew, Emily blossomed into a real beauty, always surrounded by admirers—everything came easily to her. Sophie, though, was the kind of girl who blended into the crowd, the sort no one’s eyes lingered on.
After school, Sophie trained as a nurse, believing her calling was to help people. Emily decided she didn’t need qualifications to get by—she took a beauty course and worked in a salon, doing brows and lashes.
The two were inseparable, weathering every fight and heartbreak. Not a day passed without them meeting or chatting on the phone—though it was usually Emily talking, Sophie listening, offering sympathy when another boyfriend walked away or cheering her on when a new one appeared.
As often happens between friends, they fell for the same man.
Sophie met Daniel first. He wasn’t strikingly handsome, just ordinary—the kind of man she might have built a quiet life with. But happiness never comes easy.
She’d just left the shop. Rain had poured an hour earlier, puddles still glistening on the pavement. As she sidestepped one, a speeding e-scooter hurtled toward her. The rider stared ahead, past her. She wasn’t sure he’d seen her—so at the last second, she yelped and jumped aside, landing in the water.
“Bloke on a scooter, blind as a bat,” muttered an elderly woman nearby, wagging a knobbly finger. “Nearly killed you! And now he’s gawping…”
The man braked and turned. Meanwhile, Emily clambered onto dry pavement, grimacing at her soaked, muddy legs.
“Sorry. Why’d you jump in? I saw you—I’d have swerved,” he said, rolling closer.
Sophie didn’t care for apologies. She was focused on where to step without sinking again—though by then, what did it matter?
“Here, hop on. I’ll take you home,” he offered.
“Leave me alone,” she snapped.
“I said sorry. Or d’you fancy another paddle? Where to?”
“Linden Street. Number ten.”
She hesitated, then gripped the handles. The scooter glided forward, rippling the puddles. Wind rushed past her face, the speed thrilling. She’d never ridden one before—always too scared. But with him, she didn’t feel afraid.
They reached her building, and he slowed. “Which door?” His breath tickled her ear, sending shivers down her neck.
“Third.”
He stopped right at the steps, avoiding the flooded path.
“Thanks,” Sophie said. Their eyes met—his tan skin, warm gaze, the smile that made her pulse skip.
“Daniel,” he said.
“Sophie.”
“Sorry about earlier. Fancy catching a film sometime? All my mates have moved away—don’t fancy going alone.”
She shrugged. “Alright.”
“Tomorrow, seven o’clock. Same spot.” He grinned, zoomed off around the corner.
“Why are you beaming?” her mum asked when she got in.
“Nothing. Stepped in a puddle. Need to wash my feet.” She handed over the bread, shut herself in the bathroom.
All evening, she replayed his smile, the shivers returning. Next day, she pulled on jeans and trainers, certain he’d arrive on that scooter again.
“Where’re you off to?” her mum called.
“Films. With Emily,” she lied.
“Don’t be late.”
Outside, Daniel wasn’t there. Her stomach dropped. She scanned the street, humiliation burning. “Fool,” she heard her mother’s voice in her head. Just as she turned to leave—
“Hey!”
Daniel grinned behind her. Her cheeks flared—as if he’d heard her thoughts.
“Come on. Starts in twenty.” She climbed on, heart racing as he pressed close, the wind whipping past.
After the film, they walked home, talking. He’d left the scooter at the cinema.
“Who was that bloke you went out with last night?” Emily rang the next morning. “Spill.”
“Mum told you?” Sophie tensed.
“Relax, she didn’t. So—who is he?”
Sophie ached to boast. She’d never had a boyfriend before—Emily cycled through them like magazines.
“Just some guy,” she said, though she didn’t believe it. He was different—he’d noticed *her*, asked her out. They’d meet again that evening.
Daniel waited without the scooter. They planned to wander town. But turning the corner, they ran into Emily—as if she’d been lying in wait.
“Hi!” Emily’s eyes locked onto Daniel. His gaze didn’t leave her either. She flashed him a playful smile, bold as brass. Soon, Sophie lagged behind, unnoticed as the two walked ahead.
She went home miserable, switched off her phone. Next day, Emily came over, apologising, saying she’d fallen for him…
Sophie couldn’t stay angry. They stayed friends, even after Daniel married Emily.
Sophie finished nursing school, worked at a private clinic. Emily kept at the salon—more for fun than money. Daniel earned well.
They celebrated birthdays, New Year’s, had barbecues. Sophie’s feelings for Daniel only grew, but she never let on.
Then, one night, her phone rang.
“Know what time it is?” she snapped, seeing Daniel’s name. “I’ve got an early shift.”
“Emily’s dead,” he choked out.
“*What?* Talk properly!”
“We were driving back from the countryside… she asked to take the wheel… A tow truck swerved into us… She died on impact.”
“Where are you? Which hospital?”
She threw on clothes.
“Who was that?” her mum mumbled.
“Emily—car crash. Going to the hospital.”
“Wait till morning—they won’t let you in now.”
Sophie grabbed her nurse’s coat. No one stopped her.
Daniel lay wired to machines, staring at the ceiling. Dawn light paled his face.
“How are you?”
“Had surgery. Can’t feel my legs.” Fear glazed his eyes. “Should’ve died too.”
“Don’t say that.”
“That truck came out of nowhere…”
She found the doctor.
“Surgery went well. Nerves intact—just needs time. Rest is up to him.”
Sophie helped with the funeral. Visited Daniel daily. He blamed himself, refused food, pushed her away.
“We can’t keep him here. Needs rehab, massage, hope,” the doctor said. “Don’t leave him alone—he’s fragile. Could recommend a private carer. Expensive, but experienced.”
Daniel’s parents balked.
“No spare cash. We’ll manage.”
With work, Sophie couldn’t stay full-time. Between shifts, his parents took turns. But what then?
His mum found a carer—a pretty young thing. Daniel perked up. Sophie hadn’t minded him marrying Emily, but this? Jealousy stabbed hard. She visited less.
Two weeks later, Daniel’s mum rang, shaking.
“What’s wrong?”
“That carer… robbed us. Took money, jewellery… Seemed so proper! Daniel was improving…”
Sophie rushed over. Police had come and gone. While the parents worked, the carer drugged Daniel, cleaned them out.
“Told you to take the hospital carer!” his dad barked. “Penny-wise, pound-foolish!”
“She showed references—even her passport!”
“Easy to fake.”
Daniel wouldn’t speak, refused meals. “Sophie, please—he’ll listen to you.”
“Daniel, it’s not your fault. No one knew… Don’t give up.”
“Come to lecture me? Who’d want me like this? You’ll get bored—leave like the rest. Just go.”
“I *want* you,” she whispered.
“*Why?* Out of pity? Well, don’t.”
“Think that’ll scare me off? Emily thought you only asked me out to apologise. Fine. I *was* happy. You fell for her the moment you saw her—I knew. Hurt like hell. But I stayed friends, visited you both. Cried into my pillow. You won’t shake me now. I’ll get you walking. For *her*. Then I’ll go.”
“No more carers,” Sophie told his parents. “I’ll do it. Switch to night shifts.”
She gave injections, massaged, stretched him. Maybe time healed, maybe her faith sparked his—sensation trickled back. She bought a exercise bike, back braces. Pushed him through pain.
Then, one day, he stood. Not walked—but for seconds, to everyone’s joy. Soon, he shuffled on crutches.
Encouraged, Daniel trained harder. Sophie stepped back—he’d never returned her love.
Her mum tried setting her up. Sophie refused. She only wanted him.
Then, one eveningThen, as their daughter took her first steps, Daniel squeezed Sophie’s hand and whispered, “If it weren’t for you, I’d have given up long ago.”
