“Was it just me, or are we back together?” Emily clung to Alex.
“Well? What d’you think? Not bad, right?” Lily twirled in front of the mirror, trying on a pair of trousers. “Em, love, you’ve got to stop moping. Go somewhere—change the scenery, take your mind off things. Fall in love again, for heaven’s sake.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, bending one knee. “No, I definitely like these. If you don’t mind, I’ll take them. Ta.” She bounced over to Emily, plonked herself on the sofa beside her, and hugged her, planting a kiss on her cheek.
Emily sighed, got up, and walked to the mirror.
“You’re right, I look awful. Lost weight, too pale. *I* was the one who ended things, and now I regret it. Fine, you’ve convinced me. I’ll write up my holiday request tomorrow. No—first I’ll book the earliest ticket out, *then* I’ll sort the request.” For the first time all evening, Emily smiled.
“That’s more like it,” Lily encouraged.
And that smile transformed her. It wasn’t just her lips—her whole face lit up, eyes crinkling into joyful slits. “Cheeky little spark,” Lily called it. Though lately, Emily hadn’t smiled much.
Alex had fallen for her because of that laugh. She and Lily had been sitting on a bench near the office, eating ice cream and giggling about something. A bloke walked past, glanced at them, then couldn’t stop looking back. Their laughter only grew louder, infectious.
Two days later, they were back at the same bench with ice creams. This time, the guy walked straight up to them. He stopped in front of Emily and said hello.
“Who’re you?” Lily had asked bluntly, and they both burst into laughter.
“I’m Alexander. I’ve been coming here every day hoping to see you again. You were here two days ago… Your laugh—” He couldn’t take his eyes off Emily.
Suddenly, she realised he was serious. That he liked her. That he was afraid she’d brush him off. She smiled—then, when his face lit up with amazed delight, she laughed, bright and unguarded. Not mocking, just happy. No one had ever looked at her like that before. Mischievous glints danced in her half-squinted eyes. Later, he’d tell her that’s why he’d fallen for *her*, not Lily—who was prettier, more striking.
Alex won her over with his admiration, his attention, his love. They moved in together and stayed that way for two years. Then… It was time to propose or go their separate ways. Things had grown too comfortable, too routine.
Alex grew quiet. Her laugh didn’t enchant him like it used to. Emily decided his love had fizzled out, and before he could say it himself, she ended things.
He argued, weakly, then packed his things and left. Two weeks later, Emily realised her mistake. Without him, it was worse. After a month, she was climbing the walls with loneliness. Two months in, she knew she couldn’t live without him.
And then Lily turned up, moaning about some bloke who’d invited her to a gig. She’d bought a fancy top, but none of her trousers matched. Emily offered hers—they were too big after all the heartbreak.
“So get him back before he shacks up with some random,” Lily suggested.
“No. Then he’ll think I depend on him, on his love. Like I’m submitting to him,” Emily mused.
“Isn’t that the point? Submitting to the man you love?”
“And what if we get back together and I feel that boredom creeping in again?”
“You overthink everything. Open your laptop—let’s find you tickets,” Lily said.
Surprisingly, they found cheap ones, for the right place and date—two weeks away.
Emily convinced her boss to sign off on her holiday, insisting she’d lose her mind if she didn’t escape the city for a bit. It was scary, travelling alone. She’d always gone with her parents, Alex, or Lily and her bloke—never just her.
“You’re a smart, grown woman, but still—be careful,” Lily warned as she saw her off at the train.
Emily had refused to fly. Planes only went to crowded, expensive spots, and she wanted quiet. Trains were better—lying on the bunk, watching the blurring scenery, dozing to the rhythm of the wheels, dreaming of the sea. Stepping off into the balmy southern air, diving straight into the waves…
She didn’t want serious relationships anymore. Love brought too much hurt, disappointment, and the fear it would all end.
“You’re nearly thirty. Past the ‘whole life ahead’ phase. Relationships change—they’re never perfect, just like people. Mutual love’s rare. You’ve got to choose: is it better to love or be loved? So take what life gives you. Just live, be happy—don’t overthink it,” Lily said, while Emily kept scanning the crowd for Alex.
Her train companions were an elderly couple and their teenage grandson. A spotty, wiry kid who stared at Emily unblinking. At first, she ignored it—maybe he’d never been stuck in close quarters with a pretty girl before. Then it got annoying, so she stared back until he flushed and looked away. Victory.
The granddad either slept or did crosswords. The grandma complained—their son and his wife had divorced, both too busy with new relationships to care for the boy. Now the grandparents, too old for this, were stuck taking him to the seaside…
They arrived safely. Emily searched for days—a room by the shore, where she could wake to the sound of waves and seagulls. She found one, far from the main beach. Perfect. Swimming and sunbathing alone beat crowds of lobster-red bodies and shrieking children. She walked the shore for hours, meditating on the horizon, the distant white speck of a cruise ship.
She tanned, glowed, found peace. Then—a handsome bloke appeared. Loneliness had worn thin, so she welcomed the company. Daniel said he’d been watching her, that he, too, preferred solitude. They had loads in common—recently divorced, healing by the sea. They walked, swam, dined out, strolled the promenade at night. Shared pain was a bond.
It might’ve stayed like that—just walks and starlit chats—if Daniel hadn’t turned up late one evening and tossed a pebble at her window. Emily was about to sleep.
“I came to say goodbye,” he said, sombre. “Just got a call—Dad’s in hospital. I leave first thing. I can’t stand the thought of leaving you. You’re exactly what I’ve always wanted…”
Emily’s heart sank, but she didn’t show it. She just opened the window and let him in… What a night. Not just sex—closeness. She forgot everything. She didn’t just *like* him. She was in love.
“I’ll call. Once Dad’s better, I’ll come back,” he whispered.
They swapped numbers. She gave him her home address. Exhausted, she fell into deep sleep by dawn.
When she woke, he was gone. Slipped out the way he came—through the window.
She texted, wishing him a safe journey, saying she missed him already. *”Thanks for an unforgettable night!”* he replied, with a heart-eyed emoji.
After he left, the loneliness crushed her. She thought of him constantly, reliving every touch, phone glued to her hand, waiting for a call or message. When none came, she tried calling—his phone was off. Her texts sat unread. She refused to believe he’d bolted, deceived her. She waited, hoped.
The next day, she realised her money was gone. Only loose change remained. The truth hit her—she’d been scammed. For days, she mourned her fleeting happiness, her own naivety. At least she’d booked the return ticket early.
Lily had warned her. Maybe he wasn’t even divorced—just swindling lonely women for cash.
Then she realised—the keys were missing. She hadn’t hidden them well, just tucked in her suitcase’s outer pocket. Maybe they’d fallen out—but the pocket had a zip. The landlady wouldn’t need keys to a flat in Manchester. But the bloke she’d given her address to? He could’ve taken them before slipping away at dawn. Idiot.
The pain, the humiliation—it choked her. And worse was coming.
A neighbour heard her sobbing on the landing and called a locksmith. When the door swung open, the flat was ransacked—wardrobes flung wide. Her new laptop, gone. The cashmere coat, jewellery, anything portable—vanished.
The neighbour said she’d heard footsteps the night before—thought Emily had returned early.
“Call the police,” the neighbour urged.
Emily collapsed on the sofa, crying. What was the point? She knew nothing about him. The name,She buried her face in Alex’s shoulder, finally understanding that home wasn’t a place—it was the arms that held her when everything else fell apart.
