“Well done, Lucy. Youve found your happiness.”
Lucy was the least noticeable guest at Marinas birthday party. The girls had studied together at college. Marina had generously invited everyone who could make it, but many of the girls had gone home to their villages for the weekend. Lucy, shy and quiet, decided to take up the offer.
She never went anywhere, and shed just turned eighteen, same as Marina. But unlike Marina, Lucy hadnt celebrated her own birthday with friends.
She didnt really have any, and her parents had persuaded her to keep it simplejust a family dinner with her grandparents.
“Same at five, same at eighteen,” she thought gloomily.
Of course, Lucy loved her family, but she couldnt help wondering when shed finally feel grown-up and independent. When would someoneanyonenotice her quiet beauty, her gentleness?
She dreamed of love but was too embarrassed by herself. She wasnt as striking as Marina or her friend Sophie. Those girls wore makeup with confidence, dressed stylishlysometimes even boldlyespecially in college, earning the occasional scolding from tutors.
Meanwhile, Lucys outfits were still picked by her mum, and her jumpers were knitted by her gran, who sulked when Lucy didnt wear them often. Truthfully, Lucy couldnt bring herself to step out in her grans old-fashioned knits, only wearing them at homeand only in winter.
Tonight, Marinas flat was full of college friendstwelve in total. When the meal ended and the dancing began, Lucy slipped out and sat on a bench by the entrance.
No one even noticed shed left. The unfamiliar boys made her nervous, though none had paid her any attention anyway. Maybe that was what hurt most.
She checked her watch.
“I should go. Mums probably worried,” she thought. “I promised I wouldnt stay late”
Just then, a boy stepped out of the buildingnot one of Marinas guests. He sat at the far end of the bench and sighed, glancing up at Marinas second-floor window, where music and laughter spilled out.
“Were you in there?” he suddenly asked. Lucy nodded toward the window.
“So is Marina dancing? Having fun?” he asked again, his eyes sad.
This time, Lucy dared to ask, “Why? Cant you hear? Yeah, theyre having a great time.”
“Yeah, well. Its her birthday,” he muttered. “Mine was last week. Didnt even celebrate. Just tea and cake with the family. Like being back in primary school.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Same here. Are you friends with her?” She gestured vaguely toward the window.
“Sort of. Id like to be. But she doesnt notice me. Didnt even invite me tonight, and weve been neighbours forever. She knows how I feel”
He fell silent. Lucy sighed in understanding, then suddenly said, “Dont worry. I get it. But whats the point? No one *ever* notices. I just walked out, and no one cared. Means Im invisible. Whether Im there or not, it doesnt matter.”
“Come on, thats not” he began, but then sighed. “Though maybe youre right. Some people are just unlucky.”
“No, not unlucky. *Unseen*. Unobtrusive, more like. Maybe theres an advantage to that. A kind of freedom.”
“You think?” He looked at her curiously. “Im Paul, by the way. You?”
“Lucy.”
They sat awhile, listening to the music, stealing glances at the window. Part of Lucy hoped Marina would lean out and call them back insideto dance, to *belong*. But no one came.
“Nice meeting you,” Lucy said politely, “but I should go. Promised I wouldnt stay out late.”
“Let me walk you. At least to the bus stop.”
They strolled through the park, chatting, smiling without meaning to. Paul realisedwith a thrillthat his attention *mattered* to her. He saw it in the blush on her cheeks, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when he admired her long lashes.
He cracked jokes, dredged up every funny story from his short life, just to hear her laugh, to keep her near.
At the bus stop, Lucy thanked him and turned to leave, but Paul waited stubbornly until her bus arrived. She “accidentally” missed the first one, boarding the second instead.
From the window, she waved at Paul like they were old friends. He stood there long after, rooted to the spot, spellbound by the girl with the bright eyes and dimpled smile.
Walking home, it hit him: he *needed* to see her again. But he hadnt asked for her number. Too forward? Too soon?
The next morning, Paul rushed to Marinas flat. He rang the bell, breathless.
She opened the door, scowling. “Ugh, *again*? Paul, Im *not* going out with”
“No! I just need a number. One of your classmates was here last night. Left something on the bench. Can I have her contact?”
“*Who*?”
“Lucy.”
“Lucy?” Marina frowned. “Oh, *her*. Wow. Okay, hold on.”
Minutes later, she handed him a scrap of paper. “Romeo strikes again. Didnt think quiet little Lucy had it in her.” She smirked and shut the door.
Paul clutched the note like a talisman.
All day, he rehearsed what to say. That evening, he called.
He invited her for another walk, promising ice cream. To his delight, Lucy agreed instantlyas if shed been waiting. Her voice was softer over the phone, warmer.
They wandered the park, licking cones, sharing stories. They were alike in ways that mattered.
“Next time, *Im* inviting *you*,” Lucy said boldly as they parted. “Not the park, though. The cinema. Fancy it?”
From then on, they were inseparable. Films, museums, even travelling together a year later, by which point everyone called them fiancés.
Two years after that bench, they married.
Lucys mum wailed it was too soon; her gran just beamed. “Well done, love. Found your happiness and stuck with it. Smart girl. No need to shop around when youve got a keeper like Paul. He adores her. What more could you want?”
“Whod have thought?” murmured her classmates. “Quiet Lucy, first to tie the knot. And hes *besotted*.”
The newlyweds *glowed*. In each other, theyd found everything theyd yearned forunderstanding, care, love.
Years later, theyd still smile, remembering the bench by the entrance that brought them together for life.
Some bonds arent made in grand gestures, but in quiet momentswhen two unseen souls finally *see* each other.
