Victor pulls his car to a stop near a tall metal fence where a white picket one once stood. He hesitates—could he have the wrong house? No, it’s the second one before the turn. He remembers because he’s never forgotten. From the car window, he can’t even see the roof.
His eyes flick to the mirrors—no one around. A lone car with a driver on this empty street would draw too much attention. *What am I doing here? Why?* The longer he stares at the fence, the more his resolve slips away.
Then, a girl with a Labrador steps through the gate. For a moment, his breath catches—is it Allie? The same chestnut curls, the same slight frame. But he doesn’t get a proper look at her face. *It can’t be. Fifteen years have passed. She’d be nearly forty now, and this girl can’t be older than twenty. Modern cosmetics work wonders—or is this her daughter? But she didn’t have one back then. Should I call out? What would I even say? A middle-aged man chasing a young girl… how would that look?*
He leans back, turns on the radio, and waits. Twenty minutes later, the girl and the dog reappear. As they near, Victor realizes she looks nothing like Allie. When she’s a hundred metres away, he steps out of the car.
The Labrador strains against its lead, lunging toward him.
“Easy, Rex,” the girl says, holding the dog back.
“Sorry. I was looking for Allie. Did I get the wrong house?” Victor suddenly remembers he never even knew her surname.
“Allie’s my mum. Who are you?” The girl studies him carefully.
“I just got back into town. Didn’t know she had a daughter.” Victor eyes the dog and stays put, rethinking his approach.
“How long’s it been since you were last here?” she asks, squinting.
“Fifteen years.”
“Well, you definitely can’t be my father,” she laughs, amused by her own joke. “I’m adopted. Mum and Dad will be back soon. Want to wait?” She gestures to the narrow side door next to the gate.
Victor shrugs.
“Aren’t you worried? A stranger in the house…” he begins.
“Not really,” she says, serious now. “Did you think nobody was home? Rex wouldn’t let anything happen. Plus, there are cameras. So, are you coming?”
Victor arms the car alarm and follows. She waits, holding the door open.
The garden leading to the two-story house is neat but not manicured—shrubs slightly overgrown, grass needing a trim. A wide slate path leads from the gate.
The house has changed over the years, but it’s the same one. Back then, it had seemed enormous—a stark contrast to his tiny dorm room or the cramped two-bed flat he’d shared with his parents and younger sister. Now, he lives in a place just as big, if not bigger.
Inside, the decor is far more polished than before—expensive furniture, a large TV screen on the wall, a thick carpet muffling footsteps.
“If you want a drink, the bar’s over there,” the girl says, heading for the stairs.
“I’m driving,” Victor reminds her. “What’s your name?”
“Emily. I’ll just be a minute—need to change.” She disappears upstairs.
Left alone, Victor scans the room. No photos on the shelves. He sinks into an armchair by the newly installed fireplace, lost in thought.
***
“Come on, mate, come with me. Jen’s bringing a friend. What am I supposed to do alone?” Rob pleads.
“Exam tomorrow. Got to revise,” Victor mutters, face buried in a textbook.
“A few hours won’t change anything. You won’t learn it all anyway. Better to sit it with a clear head. Come on, Vic, please? Jen’s friends are always fit,” Rob insists.
“Fine. But not for long.” Victor slams the book shut.
“That’s the spirit. You’re a legend. You won’t regret it—just don’t eye up Jen. She’s mine,” Rob warns.
They arrive at the suburban house where Jen lives a little late. Music’s already playing; a bottle of wine, glasses, snacks, and a fruit bowl sit on the coffee table.
“You took your time,” Jen huffs. She’s striking—dark, fiery, beautiful.
“Had to drag Vic here. Exam tomorrow,” Rob explains, pulling her close.
“Well, let’s not waste it, then.” Jen softens, dragging Rob to the table. “Pour us some. Allie, where are you?” she calls toward the stairs.
A pretty girl in a simple floral dress appears, no match for Jen’s glamour—but Victor’s drawn to her anyway.
“This is my mate Allie,” Jen introduces. She turns the music up; Rob and Jen start dancing.
“Want to?” Victor asks, popping a grape into his mouth.
“Sure. And let’s drop the formalities,” Allie says easily.
She dances well. Victor studies her—no makeup, just deep blue eyes framed by long lashes, shifting from black to cornflower depending on the light. He avoids looking at her full lips.
The song changes, but they keep swaying.
“Where’d Jen and Rob go?” Allie stops, glancing around.
The couple has vanished. Suddenly alone, tension prickles between them.
“I should go. And you’ve got your exam,” Allie says.
“Let me walk you,” Victor offers.
They barely talk on the way. At her gate, he hesitates.
“Wait.” He catches her arm. “See you tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” Allie says, pulling free and darting inside before he can ask for her number.
He walks back to the dorm, mind full of her—those eyes, the way her waist felt under his hands. Rob sneaks in at dawn.
Rob scrapes a pass; Victor aces the exam. *Lucky question. Allie’s my good luck charm.*
“So, did you seal the deal? Not bad, that one. I’d have—” Rob grins on their way back.
“What did you just say?” Victor spins him around.
Rob wilts under his glare—smaller, weaker. His eyes dart nervously.
“Just joking, mate. Jen’s enough for me,” he backtracks.
“Better be,” Victor snaps.
They return in silence. Rob crashes out; Victor heads to Allie’s. No number, and he won’t ask Rob.
In daylight, everything looks different—but he finds the house by its fence. The gate’s unlocked again.
He rings the bell. Allie answers in a short robe, disarming in her effortless comfort. Victor’s breath hitches.
“Come in. Pass your exam?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he croaks.
The house is modest compared to Jen’s, smaller too.
“Anyone else home?” Victor asks, eyes darting anywhere but the robe’s deep neckline.
“Just me. Parents won’t be back ’til tonight.” She shrugs. “Hungry?”
“No,” he lies, stomach empty since yesterday.
“Tea, then?”
He swears she’s mocking him.
“Maybe… cinema?” he blurts, flustered by the empty house, the tension.
Allie steps close, rests her hands on his shoulders like when they danced—and kisses him.
He leaves fifteen minutes before her parents return, walking home drunk on memory. They meet a few more times before term ends.
Then his mum calls—his dad’s in hospital. Victor rushes to say goodbye, but Allie’s not home, her phone dead. He leaves a note and goes.
Time passes. No replies. Rob’s no help—he’s gone home too, claims he knows nothing.
“Ask Jen. They’re friends,” Victor pleads.
But Rob says they’ve split; he won’t call.
His dad worsens—paralysed. Victor can’t leave his mum and little sister. They decide he’ll transfer to a local uni, work to support them.
He collects his things. No sign of Rob, Jen, or Allie. Calls go unanswered, then her number disconnects. That mocking look flashes in his mind—maybe it was just fun for her. He forces himself to forget.
He marries Sarah—sweet, practical. A son arrives within a year, a daughter two after. No time for old flames. Rob fades away too—never really a friend, just a dorm mate.
His dad dies. Victor’s business thrives—a sleek car, a big house. His mum helps with the kids; his sister keeps the old flat.
Work takes him back to his uni town. He goes himself, though he usually sends his deputy. A chance to see Allie again.
***
Now he sits by the cold fireplace, asking himself again: *What am I doing here? Allie’s married. Maybe she was even back then—that’s why she never answered. I should leave before she and her husband—*
A car engine growls outside. The gates whVictor turns to see Allie and Rob stepping through the door—her husband, his old friend—and in that moment, he knows some doors are meant to stay closed.
