“Ollie, none of this is necessary. I’m married and love my wife,” he said, reciting the line he’d prepared.
Edward and Charlotte had been together twenty-two years. The fire of youth had mellowed into a steady warmth, their relationship more like deep companionship now. Their daughter was in her second year at medical school, following in their footsteps—hardly a surprise, given she’d grown up hearing nothing but hospital stories, diagnoses, and patient complaints. Even as a child, she’d loved flipping through anatomy books, fascinated by the human body.
Edward and Charlotte had first noticed each other during clinical rotations. He’d stepped in when a cocky young patient started flirting with her during an exam. Two years later, just before their final board exams, they married.
After graduation, they both joined the same hospital—Charlotte in cardiology, Edward as an orthopedic surgeon. Today was rare: their shifts ended at the same time, so they drove home together.
“Should we stop at the shop? We’re out of veg for salad,” Charlotte said.
“Let’s skip it for tonight. I’m exhausted—tough surgery,” Edward replied, navigating the busy streets with ease.
“Fine, but we’ll have to go tomorrow. Just drop me off, and you head home,” she offered.
“And have you hauling bags while I feel guilty? Let’s go together,” he said, pulling into the supermarket car park.
Inside, Edward pushed the trolley while Charlotte loaded it.
“Told you,” he muttered at the overflowing cart in the checkout queue.
“But now we won’t need groceries for a week,” Charlotte teased, blowing him an exaggerated kiss. “Oh—I forgot bread!” She darted off.
Edward sighed, stacking items on the conveyor. Short on space, a pasta box tumbled onto the stranger’s groceries ahead.
The woman turned, shooting him a reproachful look. Flustered, he apologised and clutched the box awkwardly.
But then she kept staring—her brown eyes lingering, her expression unreadable. She was nearly his height, her faded blonde hair tied up carelessly, her thin frame swallowed by a tan coat.
Edward smiled politely and looked away, scanning for Charlotte. *Where is she? Probably grabbing more than just bread.* His gaze flicked back to the woman. *Why is she still looking at me? A patient?*
“Eddie?” she suddenly asked, her face brightening.
“Do we know each other? Were you my patient?” he fumbled.
“So you really did become a doctor,” she murmured. “It’s me—Olivia. Olivia Fairfax.” The joy in her eyes flickered out.
Edward studied her. Something familiar tugged at his memory. Olivia… Fairfax…
*Fairfax?!* It hit him—the school football pitch, her dark hair flying as she ran ahead of him. Him, breathless, hopelessly smitten, never quite catching up…
“Do I look that different?” she asked, deflated. “You—you’ve only gotten better.”
Charlotte returned, eyeing them curiously. Edward was so thrown he didn’t even scold her for the extra items. Not like him at all. The cashier started scanning, snapping him back.
“This is Olivia Fairfax, an old schoolmate,” he introduced hastily. “My wife, Charlotte.”
Charlotte smiled politely; Olivia barely glanced at her before turning away. After paying, Olivia lingered by the exit, as if waiting.
*Now what? Does she want free medical advice?* Edward grimaced.
“Ed, your card?” Charlotte nudged him.
He paid, grabbed the bags, and walked out—Olivia held the door open, making the moment painfully awkward.
Outside, she ignored Charlotte entirely. “Do you still live near your parents?”
“Next street over,” he said. “You?”
She waved vaguely. “I just… wanted to see you.” The conversation floundered. “Glad I ran into you,” she added abruptly, then left.
“Was she in love with you?” Charlotte asked once they were in the car.
“No.”
“She looked at you like she still was.”
“It was the other way around,” Edward admitted. “She picked the school’s football captain instead.”
“Seeing you now, she probably regrets it,” Charlotte said lightly.
Edward shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t.”
That night, he lay awake, remembering his teenage heartbreak. Olivia had changed. Life with her footballer clearly hadn’t been kind. *She chose glory—got what she deserved.*
He slept late, waking to find Charlotte gone, breakfast left out.
On his way to work, he spotted Olivia’s tan coat at the bus stop. He almost drove past—but she waved. Reluctantly, he pulled over.
“Knew I’d see you,” she said, slipping inside.
“You waited here on purpose.”
“I just moved nearby.”
“Do you need help? Medical advice?”
“No. I just… missed you,” she admitted. “I can’t sleep lately. Remember how you used to chase me?” She laughed.
“And you chose the footballer.”
“You’re cruel,” she said softly. “Girls dream of princes. Sometimes we mistake who they are.”
“Kids?”
“None. He was always training, then he got injured. Couldn’t cope. Drank. I left before he dragged me down.”
Edward frowned. “Where am I taking you?”
“You missed it. Just drop me here.”
“No. Address.” He turned the car around.
“You have kids?”
“A daughter. In med school.”
“Smart, like you?” They arrived. “Will I see you again?”
He nodded stiffly, relieved when she left.
But days later, she was waiting in his driveway after his night shift. Rain poured as he hurried inside, hood up—until she called out.
“Ollie, stop this. I’m married—”
“Where can we talk?”
He sighed. “Not home. The car.”
Inside, she said, “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Then why stalk me?”
“When I saw you, I just… I don’t want to wreck your marriage. But I’m so tired, Eddie. I regret pushing you away.”
“This is what you wanted to say?” he snapped, exhaustion fraying his patience.
“I want a child. A son. *Your* son.”
Edward recoiled. “Are you insane?”
“I can’t afford IVF. I’d never bother you—just one night—”
“Listen to yourself!” he hissed. “You’re asking me to cheat, to *use* me—”
She covered her face—then burst into laughter, then tears.
“I’m laughing at myself,” she whispered. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
She left, shoulders hunched. He watched her go, aching but wary.
At home, Charlotte found him cooking—unusual for him.
“I saw Olivia,” he confessed, recounting everything.
Charlotte listened silently. “You refused?”
“Obviously. She won’t bother me again.”
“She must be desperate to ask that,” Charlotte murmured. “Why you?”
Edward shrugged. “Said she wanted a son like me.”
They ate quietly.
Weeks passed. He never saw Olivia again. He didn’t want to know if she’d found someone else. He had Charlotte. He had his daughter. That was enough.
**Sometimes the past knocks, not to return, but to remind us why we moved on.**
