“Is it just me, or are we back together?” Emily nestled closer to James.
“Well? How do I look? Decent, right?” Charlotte twirled in front of the mirror, trying on a pair of trousers. “Em, enough moping. Go somewhere—change the scene, distract yourself. Fall in love, for heaven’s sake.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets, bending one knee. “No, I definitely like them. If you don’t mind, I’ll take them. Thanks.” She bounded over to Emily, plopped onto the sofa beside her, hugged her, and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Emily sighed, stood, and walked to the mirror.
“You’re right, I look dreadful. Lost weight, pale as a ghost. *I* was the one who ended things, and now I regret it. Fine, you’ve convinced me. Tomorrow I’ll hand in my holiday request. No—first I’ll book tickets for the earliest date, *then* sort the paperwork.” For the first time that evening, Emily smiled.
“There we go, that’s the spirit,” Charlotte cheered.
The smile transformed her. It wasn’t just her lips—her eyes crinkled, sparkling with joy. “Cheeky little devil,” Charlotte called it. Lately, though, Emily rarely smiled.
James had fallen for her because of her laugh. She and Charlotte were sitting on a bench near their office, sharing ice cream and giggling about something. He walked past, glanced their way, then kept looking back. Their laughter grew louder, more infectious.
Two days later, they were there again. This time, James marched straight up to them. He stopped in front of Emily and said hello.
“And you are?” Charlotte asked bluntly, making them both snort.
“James. I’ve been coming here every day hoping to see you again. You were sitting here two days ago… Your laugh…” He couldn’t take his eyes off Emily.
Suddenly, she realised he was serious—that he fancied her, that he was afraid of being brushed off. She smiled, and when his face lit up with surprise, she laughed, bright and unguarded. Not mockingly, but happily—because no one had ever looked at her like that before. Mischievous sparks danced in her narrowed eyes. Later, he’d tell her that was why he fell for *her*, not Charlotte, who was objectively prettier.
James won her over with his adoration, his attention, his love. They moved in together and stayed like that for two years. Then… It was time—propose or part ways. Their relationship had grown stale, mundane.
James grew quiet; her laughter no longer enchanted him. So Emily decided his love had faded. Rather than wait for him to say it, she ended things herself.
He protested weakly, packed his things, and left. Two weeks later, Emily realised her mistake. Without him, everything felt worse. A month in, she was climbing the walls with loneliness. Two months on, she knew she couldn’t live without him.
Then Charlotte showed up, moaning about her bloke inviting her to a gig. She’d bought a posh blouse but had no trousers to match. Emily offered hers—they’d grown loose after months of pining.
“So get him back before he shacks up with some—” Charlotte suggested.
“No. Then he’ll think I *need* him—that I’m bowing to him,” Emily mused.
“And what’s so bad about that? Letting the man you love take the lead?”
“But what if we get back together and the boredom returns?”
“You think too much. Open your laptop—let’s find you a ticket,” Charlotte ordered.
Surprisingly, they found cheap ones for the perfect destination, departing in two weeks.
Emily convinced her boss to approve her holiday, insisting she’d lose her mind if she didn’t escape the city. Travelling alone was daunting—she’d always gone with parents, James, or Charlotte and her bloke. Never solo.
“You’re a clever woman, but *please* be careful,” Charlotte cautioned at the train station.
Emily had ruled out flying—only direct flights to Brighton, which was pricey and loud. She wanted solitude. A train suited her better: lying on a bunk, watching scenery blur past, napping to the rhythm of the tracks, dreaming of the sea. Stepping out into balmy coastal air, diving straight into the waves…
She no longer wanted serious, long-term love. It brought too much pain, too many disappointments, too much fear that it would end, forcing her to start over.
“You’re nearly thirty. Past the age of infinite possibilities. Love changes—relationships aren’t perfect, nor are people. Mutual love is rare. You must choose: cherish being loved, or chase loving someone. So take what’s given. Just *live*—stop overthinking the future,” Charlotte said, while Emily scanned the crowd for James.
Her carriage companions were an elderly couple with a gawky teenage grandson. Spotty and scrawny, he stared unabashedly. At first, Emily ignored him. Let him look—probably his first time sharing close quarters with a pretty girl.
Eventually, she stared back, flushing him into submission. Victory.
His grandfather napped or did crosswords; his grandmother lamented their son’s divorce, how both parents were too busy with new partners to care for the boy. “And we’re too old! Now they’ve packed us off to the seaside…”
They arrived without incident. Emily hunted for a room right on the shore—one where she could wake to waves and seagulls. She found it, though far from the main beach. Even better. Solitude beat crowds of sunburnt bodies and shrieking children.
Days blurred into walks along the shore, meditating on the horizon, watching distant ships. She tanned, regained her glow, and felt peace.
Then *he* appeared.
Loneliness had worn thin, so she welcomed the company. Daniel said he’d seen her around—that he, too, preferred quiet. They had loads in common: recent divorce, healing by the sea. They strolled, swam, dined in cafés, wandered the promenade at night. Shared pain bonded them.
It might’ve stayed platonic if he hadn’t turned up late one evening, tossing pebbles at her window as she prepared for bed.
“I came to say goodbye,” Daniel said mournfully. “Mum just rang—Dad’s in hospital. I leave at dawn. I can’t bear losing you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Emily feigned composure but let him in.
What a night. Not just sex—closeness. She forgot everything. How she fancied him—no, more than that. She was in love.
“I’ll call. Once Dad’s better, I’ll come back,” he whispered.
They exchanged numbers; she gave him her home address. Exhausted, she fell into deep sleep.
By morning, he was gone—slipped out like a thief.
She texted, wishing him a safe journey, missing him already. *”Thank you for an unforgettable night!”* he replied, adding a heart-eye emoji.
After he left, loneliness crushed her. She thought of him endlessly, clung to her phone, waiting for calls that never came. When she dialled, his phone was off. Unread messages piled up. She refused to believe he’d duped her—until she checked her purse.
Empty. Only loose change remained. The realisation hit: she’d been scammed. Days passed in mourning—for fleeting happiness, for her own naivety. At least she’d booked a return ticket.
Charlotte had warned her. For all she knew, he wasn’t even divorced—just a conman funding his real family by fleecing sun-drunk saps.
At her doorstep, she realised her keys were gone. They’d been in her suitcase’s outer pocket—zipped shut. Had they fallen? The landlady wouldn’t steal keys to a London flat. But *he* knew her address. He’d taken them—along with her cash—while she slept. She’d handed it all to him. *Idiot.*
The hurt was unbearable. Then she stepped inside.
The neighbour, hearing sobs in the hallway, summoned a locksmith. The door swung open—wardrobes ransacked. Her new laptop, the mink coat, her jewellery, anything portable: gone.
The neighbour admitted hearing footsteps the night before. “Thought you’d come back early.”
“Call the police,” she urged.
Emily collapsed onto the sofa, weeping.
What good would police do? She knew nothing real about him—even his name was likely fake. Her things were probably sold in another town or gifted to his actual family. They’d laugh at the gullible fool.
“Never mind. You’re safe—that’s what matters,” the neighbour said.
Emily wailed. She’d heard these stories—never dreamed *she’d* be the mark.
She called Charlotte, who arrived—with James.
“Had a feeling something was wrong. Rang Char,” he said.
“Yeah, pestered me about your return date. You’d blocked him,” Charlotte explained.
Emily sobbed apologies to James. She’d regretted theirShe smiled through her tears, realizing that sometimes the love you push away is the one you needed most all along.