**Don’t Regret. Then He Never Loved You**
*”Aren’t you going to freeze in that dress? It’s minus fifteen out there, and they say it’ll drop even lower tonight,”* her mum said, peering into Emily’s room.
*”I won’t have time to freeze—it’s just next door. I can’t turn up to a birthday party in jeans,”* Emily replied, twisting in front of the mirror to adjust the belt of her dress.
*”Is Daniel picking you up?”* Mum asked.
*”No, he’s running late. His mate’s computer broke—he’s fixing it,”* Emily answered carelessly.
*”It could wait till tomorrow. You shouldn’t walk alone at night.”*
*”Mum, no one cares about that anymore. What’s the big deal? So we won’t arrive together—so what? I’m late as it is.”* Emily shoved her heels into a bag and headed for the hall.
She knew Mum didn’t like Daniel. Not since he’d kissed Emily right in front of her. *”It’s not proper. There ought to be some decency,”* she’d scolded after he’d left.
Emily pulled on warm boots, a long puffer coat, and wound a thick scarf around her neck.
*”No hat?”* Mum gasped.
*”I just curled my hair—what hat? I’m off.”* Emily unlocked the door and hurried out.
Mum called after her, but she was already racing down the stairs, her heart light with thoughts of the party—and seeing Daniel.
Their romance had been swift, intense. Emily hoped he’d propose soon.
The icy air stung her cheeks and fingers, creeping under her coat. She tugged her scarf higher, buried her nose in it, and quickened her pace toward her friend’s house. *”If only Daniel would hurry,”* she thought. She’d called him half an hour ago. *”Don’t distract me, and I’ll be there quicker,”* he’d snapped. She hadn’t called again.
In the hallway, she pushed the scarf from her face. She skipped the lift, taking the stairs to warm up. Even though she and Natasha lived just a few streets apart, Emily was freezing by the time she arrived.
The flat door, pulsing with music, stood slightly ajar. Some guy probably hadn’t shut it properly after a smoke break. Or maybe Natasha had left it open for stragglers. *”Lucky me—less attention.”* Emily stepped into the dim hallway, instantly deafened by the beat and laughter.
She shrugged off her coat, stuffed her scarf in the sleeve. The rack groaned under piles of winter jackets. Natasha had invited half of London. Emily wedged her coat onto a hook, slipped on her heels, shivered, and stepped into the party.
Blinding light and pounding music hit her at once. A dozen guys and girls danced around the table, packed tight. No one noticed her. She scanned the room—no Natasha.
Dodging flailing limbs, Emily edged toward the kitchen. Just as she reached the glass door, it swung open. Natasha stood there, cheeks flushed, lips swollen with triumph—until she saw Emily. Confusion wiped the smirk off her face.
Behind her stood Daniel, raking a hand through his tousled hair.
*”You’re already here?”* Emily’s gaze darted between them.
Natasha recovered fast, flashing a careless grin. *”Party’s in full swing. What took you so long? Fancy a dance? Or a drink first?”* She brushed past Emily.
*”You didn’t call,”* Emily hissed, voice raw. *”Didn’t even notice I wasn’t here—or were you busy?”*
*”Just got here myself,”* Daniel muttered, leaning in to kiss her. She jerked back.
Natasha’s perfume clung to him.
*”Em, come on—we were just cutting sausage,”* he lied.
*”Wipe the lipstick off your cheek. Give this to her.”* She thrust the gift bag at him, turned, and shoved through the crowd.
In the hall, she kicked off her heels, jammed her feet into boots, snatched her coat, and bolted. Her scarf slipped onto the steps. As she bent to grab it, Daniel burst out of the flat. Emily sprinted downstairs.
*”Em, you’ve got it all wrong!”* he shouted after her.
Outside, the cold lashed her face again. She remembered her forgotten heels—no going back now. *How could he? He came early, didn’t call, didn’t even look for her… And Natasha—some friend.* Tears blurred her vision as she strode blindly away from home. Only when her lashes stiffened with frozen tears did she stop.
*Where now? Home? Mum would fuss, tell her she never liked Daniel anyway. Maybe the church? There’d be a Christmas Eve service. No—too crowded, too far.*
She glanced around—she’d wandered further than she’d thought. A corner shop glowed ahead. She ducked inside, shivering in her thin dress. The frost gnawed through her coat. *”I’ll catch a cold. Good. Let them feel guilty.”* Her nose ran, mascara streaked from melting frost and tears.
The shop was empty. The bored cashier eyed her curiously. Emily unwound her scarf, draped it over her head like a hood, and stepped back into the cold.
Footsteps crunched behind her—fast, heavy breathing. She turned. A guy in all black, hood up, kept pace beside her.
Suddenly, the empty street felt too quiet. Emily sped up, but he matched her step for step.
*”Running from someone?”* he asked.
She ignored him, hoping he’d leave. He didn’t.
*”Someone hurt you? Boyfriend ditch you? Don’t regret it. If he left, he never loved you.”*
Emily stopped, ready to snap—what was it to him? But under his hood, his eyes were kind. No threat, just quiet concern. She looked away, kept walking.
They reached her building in silence.
*”Thanks for walking me,”* Emily said at the door.
*”Couldn’t leave you alone. I’m James. You?”*
*”Emily. Now you’ll ask for my number?”* She smirked.
*”Would you give it?”* His voice was warm, amused.
*”Why not? Remember—”* She rattled it off. *”Bye.”* She turned toward the door.
No footsteps followed.
*”I’ll call!”* he shouted as she stepped inside.
Climbing the stairs, Emily realised—she wasn’t crying over Daniel anymore.
*”Good time? You’re back early,”* Mum called from the sofa, the telly playing midnight mass.
*”Too cold,”* Emily muttered, retreating to her room.
Only then did the weight crush her. She’d lost Daniel *and* Natasha in one night. *”Don’t regret. He never loved you,”* James’s words echoed.
*”Never loved me,”* she whispered, tears falling.
Lying in bed, she listened to the choir’s hymn drifting from the living room. A pale winter moon watched through her window.
James called the next day, asked her to the cinema.
*”Too cold for ice skating. Fancy it?”*
*Why not? He’ll help me forget.* After the film, they drank coffee, talked easily. Soon, they were inseparable.
Daniel never called. Natasha dropped by with the heels.
*”We had a drink, a kiss—it meant nothing,”* she pleaded.
The conversation was stiff, cold. What hurt wasn’t just the kiss—Natasha had pounced the second Emily was gone. Worse—Daniel hadn’t waited, hadn’t called, hadn’t chased her. *Never loved her.* So why grieve?
Months later, James proposed.
*”You barely know him—why rush?”* Mum fretted.
*”How well did you know Dad before marrying him?”*
*”Two years,”* Mum sighed.
*”Two years—and you still didn’t see his betrayal coming. Time doesn’t matter. It’s what comes after.”*
*”When did you get so wise?”* Mum hugged her.
A year later, their son was born. Three years after, a daughter.
Emily couldn’t imagine life without James—her love, her rock.
What more could she want? Only this: a long, happy life together, watching their children grow, maybe even holding grandchildren one day. To drink life to the dregs—together.
They say marriages are made in heaven. Maybe someone arranged their meeting that cold Christmas Eve.
Miracles don’t just happen in fairy tales. Sometimes, they come on silent winter nights.
But in the end, it doesn’t matter where or when you meet. Only that you don’t walk past the one meant for you.
