“Remember how we never went to the cinema that time?” he blurted out, forgetting all the carefully rehearsed lines he’d prepared.
Tom and Emily sat on the riverbank, dreaming about getting into university, graduating, buying a flat someday…
“I’ll get a flash car—the best one. And we’ll make it, no doubt,” Tom said, tossing a pebble into the water.
“We’ll go on holiday—maybe Spain or somewhere posh,” Emily added brightly, watching the ripples fade. Then, with a sigh: “If we ever get into uni first. God, I’m sick of studying.”
“We will.” Tom slid an arm around Emily’s shoulders and pulled her close.
They were certain no one had ever loved like this before—that nothing could ever tear them apart.
“Let’s go home. Mum’ll be worrying. Plus, it’s freezing.” Emily winced as she stood up—her new heels had rubbed her feet raw. She kicked them off and walked barefoot across the cool paving stones.
“How about the cinema tomorrow? There’s a brilliant film on…” Tom suggested.
They wandered back, chatting about nothing and everything.
“See you tomorrow,” Emily said outside her house, rising on tiptoes to peck Tom on the cheek before darting inside.
“So, cinema tickets?!” he called after her.
Emily didn’t reply—just flashed him a smile before the door shut.
The town was still asleep, but the short June night had ended. Dawn washed away the stars. It was the first day of their grown-up lives.
Tom crept into his flat, careful not to wake his mum. He collapsed into bed and fell asleep instantly—the deep, contented sleep of someone certain about tomorrow. By afternoon, he was back under Emily’s window. She peered out, then dashed downstairs.
“Got the tickets,” Tom said, waving them triumphantly.
“Sorry, Tom, I can’t. Mum’s sister’s here. She got married—moving to Germany. She’s leaving us her flat in London. We’ve got to go tomorrow to sort it… I’m moving there.”
“When are you back?” Tom asked, not quite processing it.
“Dunno. I’ll apply to London unis.”
“But what about me? Us? We were supposed to—”
“Tom, chances like this don’t come twice. It’s not the moon—you can visit! Or—why don’t you apply to London too?” Her eyes lit up. “Seriously, come with me!”
“And live where? What’ll your parents say? I don’t have a rich aunt handing me flats. How do I even tell my mum? She’s on her own—”
“We’ll figure it out,” Emily said airily.
“When do you leave?” Tom’s voice was flat.
“Tomorrow morning. Still need to pack. It’s all so sudden… Tom, they won’t let me stay. If you love me, you’ll find a way.”
“And if you loved me—” He cut himself off, turned, and walked away.
Emily shouted after him, but he didn’t look back. He broke into a run—only slowing when she was long out of sight. His chest didn’t just ache; it felt hollow. “She’ll forget me. New friends, new life… Who am I? Just some bloke from nowhere…”
“Fine. Go. I’ll be fine. I’ll make it without you…” he muttered all the way home.
For two days, he lay face-down on his bed. His mum nearly called an ambulance.
“Tom, exams won’t pass themselves. Keep moping, and you’ll end up in the Army. Then Emily really won’t look twice at you.”
That snapped him out of it. He forced himself to study—though all he saw was Emily. Between chapters, he punished himself on the pull-up bar outside, exhausting his body to quiet his mind. He’d achieve everything they’d dreamed of. Then he’d show up in London and— But first, uni.
He got in. His mum was thrilled. He waited for letters from Emily—never came. He’d have written, but he didn’t even have her address. Stupid, storming off like a kid. Should’ve asked. Should’ve said goodbye. Now she was lost in a city of millions.
All through uni, he hoped she’d write. In his final year, recruiters visited. Tom signed up with a new factory outside London. Closer to Emily. Maybe he’d even bump into her.
His mum approved. Six months later, he got a flat. A year after that, he married Lucy from Accounts—cheeky, brown-eyed, always laughing. They had a daughter: Margot.
“Ugh, that name’s so old-fashioned,” Lucy groaned.
“Classic. Timeless. Margot—it’s perfect,” Tom insisted.
Ten years on, Tom was Deputy Director. Big house, fancy car. His mum sold her flat to help, moved in to help with Margot.
Work sent him abroad—China, Italy, Germany. He even learned passable German. From provincial lad to confident exec.
Then he dreamed of Emily. Standing on the riverbank, the water rushing behind her, just like after graduation. “We never did go to the cinema,” she said sadly.
Over time, he thought of her less—flipping through memories like photos, quick and detached. But after that dream, she haunted him. Where was she? Married, probably. (He refused to dwell on that.) Now he wanted to see her—to show off everything he’d achieved without her.
One lunch break, he searched her name online: *Emily + London*. Hundreds of Emilys stared back. None were his. Only when he added their hometown did she appear.
He devoured the photos. A mansion. A pool. A Rottweiler on a manicured lawn. A five-year-old boy clutching her hand.
Her bio was sparse: *Lives in Germany. Married. One son.* Some unpronounceable town. So she’d got her “chance”—and then some. He’d done well too. So why did his chest ache?
He messaged her: *Randomly saw your profile—glad you’re doing great!* No reply. Then he noticed: she hadn’t logged in for two years.
For weeks, he wondered why. Then it hit him—hot and sudden. She’d made that profile *for him*. Listed their hometown deliberately. She’d been looking for him too. The thought sent a stupid rush of joy through him.
He rang an old schoolmate—now in the police—to track down her parents’ address.
“*London*? You joking?”
“Please. They can’t have vanished.”
“Mate, they’ve probably been in Germany for years. Fine, I’ll try.”
A week later, the call came. “Sold their London flat two years after moving. Dad’s passport details were in the paperwork. Here’s the address…”
Lately, Lucy had noticed him glued to his laptop. When he was out, she checked it—and found Emily’s profile saved.
The moment he got home: “How long have you been cheating on me?”
“What?! How could you—”
“Then who’s *this*?” She jabbed at Emily’s photo.
“Just an old schoolmate. Found her online by chance.” He was innocent—but still felt caught.
“*Just*,” Lucy echoed. “Mum said you had some big school romance. Still hung up on her? Is that why you named our daughter Margot?” Her voice was calm, but her fingers trembled. “All these years—the house, the car, the promotions. You wanted *her* to see how well you’d done. To regret leaving you.”
Tom flushed with shame. Lucy saw right through him.
“You can’t rewind time. You’re chasing the *schoolgirl* you loved. She’s grown. Has her own life—probably doesn’t want to wreck it for you.” Lucy took a shaky breath. “Honestly? I almost wish you’d meet her. You won’t move on till you face the past—see it as an adult. Then you’ll realise: some things don’t come back.”
Tom pulled her close. “You’re right. At first, I did it for her. But now? It’s you and Margot. You’re my life.”
He tried to forget Emily. But the address gnawed at him. Eventually, he caved and went to London.
Emily’s mum didn’t recognise him. He stammered his name—
“Mum, who’s here?” A familiar voice.
Emily appeared—pale, thinner, older—but undeniably *her*.
“Tom?” she breathed, a mix of joy and confusion.
“Hi.” He grinned weakly. “We never did go to the cinema that time.”
“What cinema?” But she knew.
“After graduation. I even bought tickets. Then you left for London. Why didn’t you write? I was such an idiot—should’ve asked for your address…” He babbled about finding her online. “Are you visiting? Did I just luck outThey stood there, two strangers who had once known each other’s hearts, and in that moment, Tom realized the past was just a story they’d both outgrown.
