**Exhale**
Yesterday, Katie turned forty-seven. Two years ago, her life had been shattered. It was astonishing how such a clichéd phrase could capture everything that had happened to her so perfectly.
Katie found the dress just a couple of days before her birthday. She called her mum and told her she’d bought a blue one. Her mum demanded to see it straight away. When Katie put it on, her mum was thrilled. “You look absolutely darling in it. But blue? That’s a turquoise colour.” What a remarkable generation. Probably because they used to visit dressmakers, discussing styles and fabrics. Every dress back then was an event in itself.
So, the turquoise dress—now aware it wasn’t just “some blue thing”—waited for its grand debut.
For this birthday, Katie had invited all of her few relatives and friends. The restaurant set up a table for them in a cosy corner of a small, intimate room.
Natalie, her cousin, gave a toast that lasted nearly ten minutes. She reminisced about how, at sixteen, they’d gotten drunk and tried to hail a taxi, forgetting how to decline the word “cathedral.” They’d repeated to the driver five times: “Don’t you get it? We live near the *cathedrale*! The *cathedrale*! Hedgehog Village! Just drive to the centre—we’ll show you!” She then suggested they all get plastered so no one would remember their own addresses. But her romantic notion was quickly dashed when someone reminded her they were all staying at the same hotel as the restaurant. “No romance left in this world,” Natalie sighed, laughing. Her husband chimed in, “We don’t climb through windows for our lovers anymore! Mostly because of mosquito nets. Otherwise, we’d still be at it—especially me.” “Naturally. You live in a bungalow,” Katie teased. Everyone roared with laughter.
Then Alex, her other cousin’s husband, raised his glass. He recalled their trip to Brighton a hundred years ago when they started winning at the casino—only to lose every last penny. When they stumbled out, Katie had announced, “What would you lot do without me? I stashed a fiver for drinks and snacks.” So they’d all gone back to the hotel to drink away that fiver and then wandered along the pier singing *Those Were the Days*. “So here’s to the incredible woman who saved us from sober starvation!” Katie’s stepdad, Geoffrey, lamented that the restaurant didn’t have scales so they could weigh themselves on the spot. Soon, everyone was softly singing *Those Were the Days*, whispering the words like in that famous pub scene.
The evening was wonderful. Her husband, however, didn’t give a toast—but then again, he never had. He always joked that he was an IT bloke, not an orator.
The next morning, they’d agreed to meet for breakfast and a walk in Hyde Park. By evening, everyone had left, and Katie and her husband were alone in their flat.
Staring at the corner where his computer desk sat, he said they needed to talk. Suddenly, Katie felt uneasy. Truthfully, she’d felt off all day. She hadn’t even drunk that much, yet her insides were trembling. He told her he’d met and fallen in love with another woman and was leaving—immediately. He just hadn’t wanted to ruin her birthday.
The following year was the year of the letter D. Divorce, depression, drinking, despair…
On her forty-sixth birthday, Katie decided to change the letter. She woke up and went for a walk along the shore. Even on her darkest days, she made sure to walk every morning. It was chilly—January—and the beach was empty. The crisp solitude, or maybe the sea’s energy, lifted her from within, and she suddenly knew she had healed. She’d never believed in all that energy talk, yet in that moment, she physically felt the darkness leave her.
Still, she couldn’t quite take a full exhale.
Katie decided the next year would be the year of N. New beginnings, a new “her”—but *no pasarán*!
That same day, she made a profile on a dating site. Of all the men who wrote, she liked one. They met. That was a year ago.
It was hard to believe how drastically her life had changed again. Was it written in her palm? Did her life line break and start anew? Right then. Katie inhaled the morning air deeply—but still couldn’t exhale fully.
She called her mum to say goodbye.
“I told Helen you’re off on your trip, and she insists you stay the night with them,” her mum said.
“Lovely, I adore them. I thought about driving straight to the Cotswolds, but stopping in London is perfect. It’s not far from there—I’ll reach the Owens’ by lunch.”
The “Owens” were Oliver and Olivia Osborne, nicknamed for the three O’s in their names. They’d remained *her* friends.
By the second evening, Katie arrived in London. Helen and Felix had already set the table and warned her not to fill up on appetisers because they had a surprise. Twenty minutes later, the “surprise” walked in.
“Katie, meet Victor,” Helen said. “Our neighbour. Sadly, he’s moving to Edinburgh soon. But tonight, he’s treating us to sea bass—his secret recipe.”
“Pleasure,” Victor said.
“Likewise,” Katie replied. She liked him so much she almost felt guilty about Ian, the man she was meeting in Scotland. Victor was around fifty—not classically handsome or particularly athletic, but with a warm, intelligent smile.
“Right then, folks, who are we waiting for?” Felix raised his glass.
Victor poured Katie and himself a drink. “Shall we skip the formalities? We’re young at heart.”
“Gladly,” Katie smiled. Victor declared, “The youth are ready! Cheers!”
They all laughed and drank.
“This spread is fit for New Year’s! Victor, I’m no fish fan, but that bass is divine. Felix, your potato salad is legendary—blizzard of the century or not!”
“What blizzard?” Victor asked.
Felix grinned. “Pour yourself another. Time for the family legend of the Great Storm.”
Between bites of his famous salad, Felix began: “Our first winter in England, nearly thirty years ago. The forecast warned of the worst snowstorm in decades—news flashes every five minutes. Schools closed preemptively. So, we prepared. Stocked up on whisky, I chopped enough salad for an army. By six, we were holed up with Katie’s parents, drinking. Even seventeen-year-old Katie got a drop. Snow started—big, beautiful flakes. But the storm? Nowhere. We drank more. Finished the salad. Still no storm. Drank the whisky, walked Katie’s family home, strolled in the snow—maybe four inches. By morning, we realised that *was* the storm.”
They laughed, ate, drank, and Katie wished the evening would never end. But an hour later, Felix dozed off, and Katie, tired from driving, felt sleep creeping in. Victor noticed.
“Right, I’d best be off. Katie, lovely meeting you. If you’re ever in Edinburgh, my door’s open. Felix, Helen—I’ll see you before I go.”
The moment the door shut, Helen clapped.
“He *fancies* you! Don’t be shy—go visit him in Edinburgh!”
“Helen! Did Mum not tell you I met someone online? He visited me in Cornwall. Nothing happened, but he invited me to Scotland. We’ve talked for a year—I can’t just throw that away and chase the neighbour!”
“Fair enough. But if it doesn’t work out—you know where to find him. Now, sleep. Fancy a stroll in Hyde Park tomorrow?”
“No, I promised the Owens I’d be there by lunch. Early start for me.”
By one, Katie pulled into the Owens’ drive.
Oliver came out. “Brilliant you’re here! Leave your bags—let me pamper the lovely brunette while the blonde fries potatoes.” They laughed. “Hurry, poor Max is beside himself.”
The second the door opened, a huge golden retriever barrelled toward Katie. She dropped to the floor, letting him cover her in slobber. Kissing his cold nose, she cooed, “My good boy! You remember me. Guess what I brought you?” She fished out a long-lasting chew, and Max bolted to his bed.
“Kitchen, Katie. Can’t leave the stove. We’ll catch up properly later.”
Upstairs, Katie unpacked, texted her mum, then got a message from “the Scotsman” (her nickname for Ian). He was in Oxford, finishing work, and would meet her tomorrow as planned.
Downstairs, she announced, “My potential beau texted. He’s in Oxford, heading home. We meet tomorrow.”
“Have him come here! He’s practically next door. Leave in the morning.”
Katie kissed Olivia and called Ian. “Change of plan—I’m at the Owens’. Why not come here? Lovely people, I promise.” In the background, OliverAs she watched the waves crash against the shore the next morning, Katie finally exhaled fully, realizing that sometimes the best endings are the ones you never saw coming.
