Victor pulled his car to a quiet stop near the tall iron fence. He remembered it had once been a white picket fence. For a moment, he doubted himself—had he come to the wrong house? But no, it was the second one before the bend in the road. He knew it well, though time had blurred the edges of memory. From the car window, he couldn’t even see the roof anymore.
He kept glancing at the rearview mirror, uneasy at the thought of being noticed—a lone driver idling in an empty street would draw eyes. *What am I doing here? Why?* The longer he sat, staring at that fence, the more his resolve wavered.
Then she appeared—a young woman stepping out of the gates with a golden retriever. For a split second, he thought it was Alice. The same chestnut curls, the same slight frame. But he couldn’t make out her face. *It couldn’t be. Fifteen years had passed. Alice would be near forty now, and this girl couldn’t be older than twenty. Modern miracles, or perhaps her daughter? But she never had a daughter back then.*
He sank back into his seat, flicking on the radio to fill the silence. Twenty minutes later, the girl reappeared around the bend. As she drew closer, Victor realized she looked nothing like Alice. When she was a hundred paces away, he stepped out of the car.
The retriever strained at its leash, eager to reach him.
“Easy, Rex,” the girl said, tugging him back.
“Sorry. Alice used to live here, didn’t she? Or maybe I’ve got the wrong house…” Victor trailed off, suddenly realizing he didn’t even know Alice’s surname.
“Alice is my mum. Who are you?” Her gaze was sharp, sizing him up.
“I only just came back to town. Didn’t know she had a daughter.” He glanced at the dog and stayed where he was, wary of approaching further.
“How long’s it been since you were last here?” She narrowed her eyes slightly.
“Fifteen years.”
“Well, then you definitely aren’t my father.” She laughed—a bright, careless sound. “I’m adopted. Parents should be home soon. Fancy waiting for them?” She gestured to a narrow side door in the gate.
Victor shrugged.
“Aren’t you afraid? A stranger turning up like this…”
She sobered. “Not really. Why’d you think the house was empty? Rex wouldn’t let anything happen, and we’ve got cameras. Coming?” She pushed the door open.
Victor locked the car and followed. The garden was neat but not manicured—hedges slightly overgrown, grass due for a trim. A wide stone path led to the two-storey house, which had clearly changed over the years. But it was undeniably the same place.
Fifteen years ago, it had seemed enormous. Back then, he’d been crammed into a tiny dorm room or, before that, sharing a cramped flat with his parents and little sister. Now, his own home was just as large, if not bigger.
The interior was different—expensive furniture, a sleek telly on the wall, thick carpets muffling footsteps.
“Help yourself if you want a drink,” the girl said, nodding toward the bar before heading upstairs.
“I’m driving,” Victor reminded her. “What’s your name?”
“Melanie. Back in a tick.”
Left alone, he scanned the room. No photos on the shelves. He settled into an armchair by the fireplace—another new addition—and let his thoughts drift.
***
“Come on, mate, just tag along. Janine’s bringing a friend. What’s the point in me going alone?” Rom had pleaded.
“Got exams tomorrow,” Victor muttered, not looking up from his textbook.
“A few hours won’t kill you. You won’t cram it all in anyway. Better to go in fresh. Seriously, Vic, come on. Janine’s friends are always fit.”
“Fine. But not long.” He shut the book with a snap.
“That’s the spirit! You won’t regret it. Hands off Janine, though—she’s mine.”
They arrived at the cottage estate where Janine lived, slightly late. Music thumped inside. A bottle of wine, glasses, and a platter of snacks sat on the coffee table.
“What took you so long?” Janine pouted. She was striking—dark-haired, sharp-featured, impossible to ignore.
“Had to drag this one along. Exams tomorrow,” Rom said, slipping an arm around her waist.
“Well, let’s not waste time.” She grinned and pulled him toward the drinks. “Alice! Where’ve you got to?”
A pretty girl in a floral summer dress drifted down the stairs. She wasn’t as dazzling as Janine, but something about her tugged at Victor instantly.
“My friend Alice,” Janine introduced. She turned the music up.
They drank. Rom and Janine danced.
“Shall we?” Victor asked, popping a grape into his mouth.
“Sure. And drop the ‘you’—we’re not strangers.”
Alice danced well. No makeup, just clear skin and dark blue eyes that shifted like stormy water. He kept his hands on her waist, resisting the urge to stare at her lips.
The music changed, but they kept swaying.
“Where’d Janine and Rom go?” Alice paused, scanning the room.
Gone. Just the two of them now, the air suddenly heavy.
“I should go. You’ve got an exam tomorrow,” Alice said.
“I’ll walk you.”
They didn’t talk much on the way. At her gate, Victor caught her arm. “Wait—see you tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” She pulled free and slipped inside.
Back in his dorm, he couldn’t stop thinking about her—those eyes, the way she’d felt against him. Rom stumbled in at dawn, reeking of booze.
Rom scraped a pass; Victor aced it. *Lucky draw. Alice brought me luck.*
“So, how’d it go? Not bad, eh? I’d have had a crack myself—” Rom babbled on their way back.
Victor froze. “What did you just say?” He spun Rom toward him, grip tight.
Rom shrank back. Wiry and shorter, he was no match. His eyes darted nervously.
“Joking! Janine’s more than enough.”
“Better be.” Victor let go.
They walked the rest in silence. Rom passed out instantly. Victor headed back to the cottage estate. No number for Alice—didn’t want to ask Rom. The gate was unlocked again.
She answered the door in a short, flimsy robe, looking soft and sleepy. His throat tightened.
“Come in. Exam go all right?”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked.
The house was modest, nothing like Janine’s.
“Anyone else home?”
“Just me. Parents are out till evening.” She tilted her head. “Hungry?”
“No.” (He hadn’t eaten since yesterday.)
“Tea?”
That teasing glint in her eye.
“Or… cinema?” he blurted.
Alice stepped close, rested her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him.
He left fifteen minutes before her parents returned, dazed. They met a few more times before his father fell ill. In a rush, Victor went to say goodbye—Alice wasn’t home, calls went unanswered. He left a note and left.
Silence. No replies. Rom claimed ignorance.
“Ask Janine—they’re friends!”
But Rom said they’d broken up—he wouldn’t call her.
Victor’s father worsened. Paralysed. No question of leaving his mother and sister. He transferred to a local uni, got a job.
Back at his old campus for paperwork—Rom, Janine, Alice, all gone. Calls to Alice stopped connecting. Maybe it meant nothing to her. He forced himself to forget.
Married a sweet, practical woman—Sophie. A son, then a daughter. No time for ghosts of the past. Rom faded away too—just a dorm mate, not a real friend.
His father died. His business thrived. A flash car, a big house.
Years later, a deal brought him back to his old uni town. A whim—maybe see Alice again.
Now, sitting by the cold fireplace in her home, the same question nagged: *What am I doing here?*
A car pulled up outside.
“Mum! Dad! We’ve got a guest!” Melanie called from behind him.
Roman—once scrawny, now broad with thinning hair—gaped. Alice stood calm, though her eyes flickered.
“Blimey. What brings you here?” Roman clapped him on the back.
Victor didn’t return the smile. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? You left. Never came back.”
Alice excused herself to set the table.
“And Janine?”
Roman snorted. “Ancient history. Married, moved to France. Alice and I—well, it just happened.”
“Melanie?”
“Adopted. Distant cousin of hers.”
The conversation stuttered. Roman offered a drink. Victor declined.
“I should goVictor drove away, the echoes of that old melody fading with the miles, and by the time he pulled into his own driveway, he knew that some doors, once closed, were never meant to be opened again.
