**Don’t Regret It. Then He Never Loved You**
“You won’t freeze in that dress? It’s minus twenty out there, and they say it’ll drop even lower tonight,” Mum said, peering into Emily’s room.
“I’ll hardly have time to freeze, it’s just round the corner. Can’t turn up to a birthday party in jeans,” Emily replied, adjusting the ribbon at her waist as she turned in front of the mirror.
“Will Daniel pick you up?” Mum asked.
“No, he said he’d be late. Helping a mate with his broken laptop,” Emily answered carelessly.
“He could finish tomorrow if he’s running behind. It’s not right you going alone.”
“Mum, no one cares about that anymore. What’s the big deal? So we don’t arrive together—so what? I’ve got to go, I’m already late.” Emily stuffed her heels into a bag and hurried to the hall.
She knew Mum didn’t like Daniel. Ever since he’d kissed Emily right in front of her. “It’s not proper. There ought to be some decency,” Mum had scolded after he left.
Emily pulled on thick boots, a long down coat, and wrapped a woolly scarf around her neck.
“No hat?” Mum gasped.
“I curled my hair—what do you think? I’m off.” Emily unlocked the door and stepped out.
Mum called something after her, but she was already rushing down the stairs, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the party and seeing Daniel.
Their romance had started fast and fiery. Emily was sure he’d propose soon.
The cold bit her cheeks, her hands, creeping under her coat. She buried her nose in the scarf and hurried towards her friend’s flat. “Wish Daniel would get here quicker,” she thought. She’d called him half an hour ago. “Don’t distract me if you want me there soon,” he’d snapped. She hadn’t rung again.
Inside the building, she pushed the scarf from her face. She skipped the lift, taking the stairs to warm up. Though they only lived two streets apart, the chill had seeped in.
The flat door was ajar, music drifting out. Some smoker must’ve left it open. Or maybe the hostess kept it unlocked for latecomers. “Lucky. Less fuss,” Emily thought, slipping into the dim hallway. The bass thudded, laughter and shouts bouncing off the walls.
She shrugged off her coat, stuffing the scarf in a sleeve. The rack groaned under layers of winter jackets. Sophie had said it’d be packed. Emily wedged her coat onto a hook, stepped into her heels, shivered, and moved towards the living room.
The light blinded her after the dark hall. The music pounded, her heart keeping time. A dozen lads and girls danced around the table, filling the room. No one glanced her way. She searched for Sophie but couldn’t spot her.
Emily edged towards the kitchen, dodging the dancers. Just as she reached the glass door, it swung open. Sophie stood there—flushed, feverish-eyed, lips curved in triumph. Then surprise wiped her grin away.
Behind her stood Daniel, fingers raking through his tousled hair.
“You’re here already?” Emily asked, eyes flicking between them.
Sophie recovered, beaming as if nothing had happened. “Party’s in full swing. Late much? Fancy a dance? Or a drink first?” She brushed past.
“You didn’t call. Didn’t notice I wasn’t here? Or were you too busy?” Emily’s voice cracked.
“Didn’t get the chance. Just got here myself.” Daniel leaned in to kiss her, but she jerked back.
She caught the scent of Sophie’s perfume.
“Em, what’s wrong? We were just slicing sausage,” Daniel said.
“Wipe the lipstick off your cheek. Give her this.” She thrust the gift bag at him, then pushed through the crowd towards the door.
In the hall, she toed off her heels, shoved her feet into boots, snatched her coat, and fled. The scarf slipped onto the stairs. As she bent to grab it, Daniel burst out of the flat. She bolted down the steps.
“Emily, you’ve got it all wrong!” he shouted after her.
Outside, the cold slapped her face. She remembered the heels—no going back now. “How could he? Came early, never rang, never looked for me… And Sophie—some friend. How could she?” The tears froze on her lashes as she walked, blindly, away from home. She only stopped when her nose went numb.
“Where now? Home? Mum’ll fuss, say she never liked Daniel… Church? Midnight Mass, but too far, too many people.”
She realised she’d wandered far. A shop’s glow beckoned—just to warm up. The thin dress was a mistake now. The cold gnawed her bones. “Catch a cold. Good. Let them feel guilty.” Mascara streaked as frost melted into tears.
The shop was empty. A bored cashier eyed her. Emily draped the scarf over her head, wrapping the ends around her neck, then stepped back into the night.
Suddenly—footsteps. Crunching snow, heavy breath. She turned. A bloke in all black, hood up.
They were alone on the street. She sped up, but he matched her pace. Soon her breath came in gasps.
“Running from someone?” he asked.
She ignored him. Maybe he’d leave her alone. He didn’t.
“Got your heart broken? Don’t regret it. If he walked away, he never loved you.”
Emily stopped, ready to snap—what’s it to you? But his warm gaze held no threat under the hood. She looked down, walked on.
They reached her building in silence.
“Thanks for walking me,” she said at the door.
“Couldn’t leave you alone. I’m Oliver. And you?”
“Emily. Going to ask for my number now?” she smirked.
“Would you say no?” His voice smiled.
She couldn’t see his face well.
“Go on, then. Remember this.”
She gave the number. “Bye.”
The absence of crunching snow told her he hadn’t followed.
“I’ll call!” Oliver shouted as the door clicked shut.
Climbing the stairs, she realised—she wasn’t crying for Daniel anymore.
“Good time? You’re back early,” Mum said from the sofa, the telly glowing with carol singers.
“Too cold out.” Emily slipped to her room. The pain hit then—the loss of Daniel, of Sophie. *Don’t regret it. He never loved you.*
“He never loved you,” she whispered, crying at last.
She lay listening to the choir’s hymns from the telly. The moon’s blue eye watched through the window.
Oliver rang the next day, asking her to the cinema.
“Too cold for ice-skating. Fancy it?”
“Why not? He’ll help me forget,” she thought. They sipped coffee after, talking easily. They met every day after that.
Daniel never called. Sophie did—with the heels.
“Had a drink, kissed. Nothing else happened,” she’d said, trying to make peace.
The talk was stiff. What stung wasn’t the kiss—though it did. It was that Sophie had called herself a friend then taken the chance. That Daniel hadn’t waited, hadn’t rung, hadn’t chased her. *He never loved you. So why regret?*
Soon Oliver proposed.
“You barely know him. Why rush?” Mum fretted.
“How well did you know Dad when you married? How long did you date?”
“Two years.”
“Two years. Still didn’t see he’d betray you. Doesn’t matter how long—what comes after does.”
“You’re all grown up,” Mum sighed, hugging her.
A year later, they had a son. Three more, a daughter.
Emily couldn’t imagine life without Oliver.
A loving husband, a devoted father. What more could she want? Only this—to grow old together, see their children’s children, drink life to the dregs, leave hand in hand.
They say marriages are made in heaven. Maybe someone arranged that night for them—Christmas Eve, of all times.
Miracles don’t just happen in stories. Sometimes, on cold winter nights.
But the when and how don’t matter. Just finding the one. Not missing them. Not walking past.
