**Diary Entry**
“And what did you ever see in him?”
Grace stepped out of the shop and was descending the steps when a sleek red sports car pulled up in front of her. A polished woman emerged, the gust of wind catching her dress, billowing it like a bell. A strand of hair swept across her face, and she flicked it back effortlessly, smoothing her skirt before walking past without a glance.
“Emma? Em!” Grace called out.
Emma turned, scanning the faces around her before her gaze settled on Grace. For a moment, they just stared.
“You don’t remember me?” Grace climbed back up the steps. “It’s Grace. Grace Whitmore.”
“Grace.” Emma hesitated. “Honestly, I didn’t recognise you. Funny how time flies.”
“Look at you,” Grace said, steering her aside. “Let’s move—we’re blocking the door. You’ve hardly changed.”
Emma gave a practised smile.
“Do you live nearby?”
“No, just working. Popped out on my break. You?”
“Why stand around?” Emma said. “You’ve got time, yeah? Let’s grab a coffee—who knows when we’ll bump into each other again.”
They slipped into a nearly empty café next door, more a greasy spoon than anything. Seated by the window, Emma waved over a waitress who sauntered over, chewing gum, and slapped down laminated menus.
“No need,” Emma said, pushing them aside. “Two salads, two Victoria sponges, and tea. Quickly.”
She turned back to Grace, smirking as the waitress swayed off on stiletto heels.
“So, how’ve you been?” Emma adjusted herself on the plastic chair.
“Fine. Married once—briefly. No kids. You look like life’s treated you well.”
“Can’t complain.” Emma laughed, flashing the platinum band on her ring finger.
“Children?” Grace asked.
The waitress returned with tiny plates of cake, teacups, and a chipped porcelain pot.
“Your parents—are they still around?” Emma asked abruptly once they were alone again.
“Dad passed a few years back. Mum… well, she hasn’t been the same since.” Grace spun her cup quietly.
Emma poured the tea. A hint of Earl Grey filled the air.
“Shame. I always liked your parents. Not like my mum—never satisfied, never a kind word. No wonder Dad left. Your house—so quiet, so peaceful.” Emma’s eyes glazed over with memory.
Grace sighed…
***
They’d lived in the same block of flats—Grace on the fourth floor, Daniel on the third. First nursery together, then primary school. Daniel’s father drank, shouted. Daniel would sneak upstairs to Grace’s.
In Year 9, a new girl arrived. Parents divorced, she and her mum moved in next door. Bright, pretty Emma—Daniel was smitten. Grace watched, helpless. They used to walk to school together, just the two of them. Now…
“Forgotten something?” Grace asked when Daniel halted mid-path.
“Let’s wait a sec.”
“For what?”
The door of the neighbouring flats swung open. Out came Emma, beaming—only at Daniel. Beside her, he was a different boy—joking, lively. Grace barely recognised him. Emma laughed loudly; Grace trudged alongside.
After school, Daniel raced to the lockers, waiting with Emma’s coat in hand. They’d walk home, forgetting Grace entirely. At break times, Emma chatted as if nothing had changed.
Once, the three went to the cinema. When the lights came up, Grace noticed—their fingers intertwined. They didn’t let go the whole way home. Grace lagged behind. They never noticed. She stopped joining them.
After sixth form, they scattered—Grace to university, Daniel to trade school, Emma to fashion college.
That winter, Grace fell ill, missing lectures for days. Snow dusted the pavement; New Year loomed. Peering through the frosty pane, she saw Emma striding toward her building. Grace opened the door, waiting. But the footsteps stopped a floor below. Daniel’s voice echoed: “Finally…” A door slammed.
Grace’s knees buckled. She sat on the hallway bench, crying. Emma had been visiting Daniel while his parents worked. The thought of what they did there burned like poison.
Later, Grace’s mum mentioned bumping into Daniel’s mother. “His dad’s worse than ever,” she’d said. “And Daniel? Moved out. Renting some flat with Emma.”
Final year, Grace married a classmate. They lived with his mother, who meddled endlessly. “Alex, why did you marry me? No wife replaces your mum.”
He shrugged. “Mum knows best. You’ll adjust.”
“I won’t.” She packed her bags.
Another shrug. He turned back to his computer. The divorce was swift—no children, no assets. And just like that, her marriage ended.
She glimpsed Daniel once—at his father’s funeral. No chance to speak. Soon after, his mother remarried.
***
Now, across the café table, Emma sat—radiant, untouchable. The salads arrived. Emma dug in; Grace nibbled stale cake, sipped tepid tea.
“And Daniel?” she asked.
Emma froze, fork mid-air. “Still hung up on him?” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “God, I envied you. Your family—so warm. All I had was my looks. Daniel was easy to reel in.” She exhaled. “But we were wrong for each other. Too dull, too domestic. I wanted life—not paycheque-to-paycheque drudgery. Now? Wealthy husband, every luxury.”
“And Daniel?”
“Why d’you care? He’s in a dingy one-bed. Alone, last I heard. Your turn, I suppose.” Emma’s stare sharpened. “What did you ever see in him?”
Grace checked her watch. “I need to get back.” She stood abruptly.
Emma waved a dismissive hand. “My treat.”
Grace left without goodbye—then paused at the door. She marched back.
“Forgotten something?” Emma sneered.
“His address. Write it down.”
For a flicker, Emma faltered. Then she scribbled on a napkin and slid it over. “Good luck.”
At her desk, Grace unfolded the napkin. *Now what? March straight to him?* She almost heard Emma’s laugh.
“I will,” she whispered.
“You say something?” a colleague asked.
She pocketed the napkin, booted up her computer.
Leaves crackled underfoot as she walked home. Autumn had been unseasonably warm. Entering her estate, she glanced instinctively at Daniel’s old window. Memories flooded back—school runs, him fleeing upstairs during his dad’s rages. Where had it all gone?
She wheeled around, heading for the bus stop.
The block was easy to find. She hesitated at the entrance. *Why am I here? Emma’s right. He never loved me. Never called. Never came. And yet I waited. Stop being pathetic.* She spun to leave—and collided with Daniel.
“Grace? What are you—”
Her heart leapt.
“I—I was visiting a coworker. She wasn’t in. You look awful.” Stubble shadowed his jaw; his eyes were bloodshot.
“Caught a bug. Just nipped out for—” He lifted a milk carton.
“You should be in bed.” She tugged him inside.
The flat was sparse—a bachelor’s mess. She fried potatoes, boiled the milk, fed him, and tucked him under a blanket.
“Sleep. I’ll clean up.”
When she returned, he was out cold, fever broken. She watched him—this boy she’d never stopped loving—then slipped out as night fell.
“You’re late,” her mum called from the telly.
“Ran into Emma.”
“Thought you two fell out.”
“Just coffee. She’s married. Fancy car. Same as ever.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Grandkids, Grace. When?”
“Not this again.” She retreated to her room.
She tried reading, but Daniel’s face—pale in the dusk, asleep on the sofa—haunted her. *What was the point?*
Brushing her teeth later, her mum passed her the ringing phone.
“Still got the same number.” Daniel’s voice rasped. “Why’d you leave?”
Goosebumps prickled her skin. She shut the bathroom door.
“Didn’t want to wake you. Feeling better?”
“Almost. Grace… I know I messed up. But come tomorrow. Please.”
“You want me to?”
“Christ, yes.”
How many years had she waited? No one else had ever mattered.
Next morning, she dressed carefully—smart dress, light makeup—before chickening out and wiping it off.
“What’s all this?” her mum asked.
“Work do.”
“Late again?”
“Maybe.” She fled.
All day, her heart raced.The next evening, as she stood at Daniel’s door, he pulled her inside without a word, and for the first time in years, Grace felt like she was finally home.
