A Stranger at the Door Ever since school, Alan had been hopelessly in love with Jane. He wrote her secret notes and tried every trick to get her attention. But Jane only had eyes for Daniel—the tall, blonde volleyball star on her team. Awkward Alan, who struggled in class, didn’t even register on her radar. Soon, Daniel started dating Helen, a girl from the next class over. After graduation, Alan made another attempt to win Jane’s heart. He even proposed at the prom… But Jane flatly refused—“No!”—not even considering him as a suitor. After university, Jane took a job as an accountant. Her boss was a handsome, dark-haired man, ten years her senior. Jane admired his professionalism, his striking looks, and his intelligence. Feelings blossomed between them, and Jane didn’t mind that her beloved was married with a young son. Valentine assured her again and again that he would leave his wife, swearing he loved only Jane. Years passed, and Jane became used to spending holidays and weekends alone, always believing that someday, her love would finally be free. But one day, she saw Valentine with his pregnant wife at a shop. He was tenderly holding her hand, carrying the bags, before all three left for their car. Jane watched with tears in her eyes. The very next day, she resigned… New Year’s was approaching, but Jane had no interest in buying groceries, decorating the house, or celebrating. Then, one day she came home to find it freezing—the boiler had stopped working. Jane lived in a detached house. She tried finding a repairman, but everyone wanted extra money to travel out to the suburbs, especially so close to New Year’s. Feeling hopeless, Jane called her friend. Her husband worked in plumbing and might be able to help. Larissa promised to call him straight away. Two hours later, someone rang the doorbell. A stranger stood on the doorstep—but as Jane looked closer, she recognised Alan, her childhood classmate. “Hey Jane, what’s gone wrong here?” “How did you know?” “My boss called—said someone at this address was freezing. Did you drain the water so the pipes didn’t burst?” “No, I have no idea how.” He laughed. “You could lose your heating for good like that. Good thing it’s not a deep freeze outside.” Alan quickly drained the system, fiddled with the boiler, and drove off. Within an hour, he was back with the right parts. Soon Jane’s house was warm again. After cleaning up, Alan asked: “Jane, your tap leaks and the lightbulb’s flickering… can’t your husband fix it?” “I don’t have a husband…” “Really? Still waiting for Mr Right?” “Hardly… there’s no one,” Jane confessed. “Then why’d you say no to me?” Alan grinned. She didn’t answer. After fixing the tap and changing the bulb, Alan left for home. Jane found herself remembering her childhood—the chubby boy who’d loved her all those years ago. Alan had changed a lot, grown tall and lean with warm brown eyes, but his smile was just the same. She hadn’t even thought to ask if he was married. Then, on December 31st, someone rang the door again. Jane was surprised—she wasn’t expecting any guests. Standing there was Alan, wearing a new suit and holding a bouquet of flowers. “Jane! Let me ask you again. Will you marry me, or are you going to wait for Prince Charming till you’re a pensioner?” Jane wept tears of joy and nodded. The second time around, she finally said “yes”…

Author Walton MerrittReading 5 minViews 1

There was a stranger standing on my doorstep.

Ever since we were in secondary school, Daniel had been hopelessly in love with me. I would find notes tucked into my textbooks, and he always seemed to make a spectacle of himself just to catch my attention.

But at school, I only had eyes for Oliverthe tall, fair-haired boy who played volleyball with me on the school team. Daniel, awkward and struggling with grades, was never on my radar.

It didnt take long for Oliver to start going out with Emily, a bubbly girl from the next class over.

After we left school, Daniel made a few more valiant, if clumsy, attempts to get my attention. He even proposed to me at our Year 11 Leavers’ Party

My response was brisk and cold No! It barely crossed my mind that I could ever see him that way.

After university, I landed a job as an accountant at a firm in Oxford. My boss, Mr. Philip Harrison, was striking and confident, at least a decade older than me with an air of sophistication and wisdom I found captivating.

Feelings sparked between us. I knew Philip was married and had a little boy, but I hardly let it get to me. He constantly promised the end of his marriageswore blind that he loved only me.

The years ticked by. I grew used to spending weekends and holidays on my own, always clinging to hope for the moment Philip would leave his wife so we could finally be a real couple.

Until one day, shopping at Waitrose, I saw Philip with his wife. She was very much pregnant, and he offered his arm with gentle pride. I watched, devastated and teary-eyed, as they walked away towards their car, a picture of domestic contentment.

The next morning, I handed in my letter of resignation.

As New Year’s Eve approached, I couldnt summon the energy for Christmas shopping or to put up decorations. I didnt want to celebrate anything at all.

One evening, I came home to find the house cold; my old cottage on the edge of town had lost its heating altogether. The boiler had packed up at the worst possible moment.

I called several repair services, but the quotes they gave were astronomical, especially considering the trek out to my remote area. Id nearly given up when I phoned my friend Sarah. Her husband worked as a heating engineer; maybe he could help.

Sarah promised to ring him straight away.

Two hours later, a knock came at the door.

I answeredstartledand found, after squinting into the dusk, that the stranger was not so strange after all. It was Daniel, my former classmate.

Evening, Annabelle. Whats gone wrong here then? he asked with a smile.

How did you know? I stammered.

Boss sent mesaid theres someone freezing out this way and Id best come sort it out. Did you drain the system so the pipes dont freeze?

Erm, no Ive no idea how to do that.

He grinned, shaking his head. Youll get your house flooded like that! Good thing the frosts not too bad.

He made quick work of draining the water system, fiddled around with the boiler, and then left to gather the parts needed for repair. In less than an hour, he was back.

Soon, my home was toasty warm again. After scrubbing his hands, he glanced about and asked, Annabelle, your taps leaking and that lightbulb is flickering… does your other half not do any handiwork?

There is no other half, I mumbled.

No? Still holding out for Mr. Perfect?

I sighed, No, theres no one. Not really.

So whyd you turn me down then? Daniel teased with a boyish grin.

I didnt answer.

After mending the tap and changing the bulb, he let himself out, and I sat, lost in memories of my childhood and that chubby boy whod once adored me.

But Daniel was different nowtaller, leaner, with thoughtful brown eyesbut the same gentle smile lingered on his lips. I didnt even think to ask if he was married now.

Then, on the 31st of December, someone rapped sharply at my door.

I was expecting no one, but opened it anyway.

There stood Daniel, dressed smartly in a new suit, hands clutching a bouquet of fresh winter flowers.

Annabelle! Ill ask you again: Will you marry me, or are you planning to wait for Prince Charming till you get your pension?

I burst into happy tears, nodding furiously.

On his second try, I finally said yes.

“A Good Woman—What Would We Do Without Her? —And You’re Only Paying Her Two Thousand a Month. —Helen, We Put the Flat in Her Name Nikolai got out of bed and slowly made his way to the next room. In the glow of the night light, he peered at his wife with ageing, blurry eyes. He sat beside her, listened. ‘Seems everything’s fine.’ Standing up, he wandered to the kitchen, opened the milk, popped to the bathroom, and then returned to his own room. He lay down but couldn’t sleep. ‘Helen and I, both ninety years old. How long have we lived? Soon it’ll be our time, and there’s no one left nearby. Our daughters, Natalie passed before sixty. Max as well. He drank… There’s our granddaughter, Oksana, but she’s lived in Poland for twenty years now. She doesn’t remember her grandparents, probably has grown children herself…’ He didn’t notice when he fell asleep. He awoke to the touch of a hand. ‘Nikolai, are you alright?’—a faint voice. He opened his eyes. His wife was leaning over him. ‘Helen?’ ‘Just checking—you’re lying so still.’ ‘Still alive! Go to sleep!’ Shuffling steps echoed. The kitchen switch clicked. Helen went for a glass of water, visited the bathroom, then returned to her own room. Lay on her bed: ‘One morning I’ll wake up, and he’ll be gone. What’ll I do then? Or maybe I’ll go first. Nikolai’s already arranged our funeral. Never thought you could plan such a thing in advance, but maybe it’s for the best. Who else would do it? Our granddaughter’s forgotten us. Only our neighbour, Janet, pops by. She’s the only one with a key to our flat. Grandpa gives her a bit from our pension each month. She buys groceries and the things we need. Where else would we spend our money? And we don’t go out from the fourth floor ourselves any more. Nikolai opened his eyes. Sunlight peeped through the window. He went onto the balcony, saw the fresh green leaves of the bird cherry tree. A smile broke across his face. ‘We’ve made it to summer!’ He went to check on his wife. She was sitting thoughtfully on the bed. ‘Helen, enough sadness! Come, let me show you something.’ ‘Oh, I have no strength left!’ she wearily stood. ‘What are you up to?’ ‘Come on, come on!’ Supporting her carefully, he led her to the balcony. ‘Look—it’s all grown green! And you said we wouldn’t make it to summer. But we did!’ ‘Oh, and the sun’s shining too.’ They sat on the bench on the balcony. ‘Remember how I first took you to the cinema? We were still in school. The bird cherry was green that day too.’ ‘How could I forget? How many years has it been?’ ‘Seventy odd… seventy-five.’ They sat a long while, remembering their youth. So much slips away with age, sometimes even yesterday—but youth you never forget. ‘Oh, we’ve been nattering on!’ she eventually stood. ‘And we haven’t had breakfast.’ ‘Helen, do make a proper tea! Tired of all these herbs.’ ‘But we’re not supposed.’ ‘Just a little, and one spoon of sugar.’ Nikolai sipped the weak tea with a tiny cheese sandwich, remembering the days when breakfast meant strong, sweet tea with pastries or pancakes. Their neighbour came in, smiled warmly. ‘How are you both?’ ‘What business can ninety-year-olds have?’ the old man joked. ‘If you’re still joking, you must be alright. Need me to buy anything?’ ‘Janet, get us some meat!’ asked Nikolai. ‘You’re not meant to have it.’ ‘Chicken will do.’ ‘Alright. I’ll make you noodle soup!’ She tidied the table and went. ‘Helen, shall we sit on the balcony and enjoy the sun?’ her husband suggested. ‘Let’s!’ Janet brought over some porridge, started the soup for lunch. ‘She’s a good woman,’ he said as Janet left. ‘What would we do without her?’ ‘And you only pay her two thousand a month.’ ‘Helen, we’ve left her the flat.’ ‘She doesn’t know that.’ They stayed out on the balcony until lunch. For lunch was chicken noodle soup, tasty with chunks of meat and soft potatoes. ‘I always made this for Natalie and Max when they were young,’ Helen recalled. ‘And now, in our old age, it’s strangers cooking for us,’ sighed her husband. ‘Maybe that’s our fate, Nikolai. Once we’re gone, there’ll be no one to even shed a tear.’ ‘Alright now, Helen, no more gloom. Let’s rest a while!’ ‘They say: “Old folk and children are much the same.” Soft soup, nap time, afternoon snack—the lot.’ Nikolai dozed for a bit, then got up, unable to sleep. Maybe the weather was changing. He went to the kitchen. On the table were two glasses of juice—Janet’s doing. He carried them carefully to his wife’s room. She was looking pensively out the window. ‘What’s wrong, Helen?’ he smiled. ‘Some juice?’ She took a sip. ‘Can’t sleep either?’ ‘Must be the weather.’ ‘Been feeling off since morning,’ she sighed. ‘I can sense there’s not much time left for me. Bury me kindly, won’t you.’ ‘Don’t talk like that, Helen. How would I live without you?’ ‘One of us will go first, no matter what.’ ‘Enough! Let’s go to the balcony!’ They stayed there until evening. Janet made cheese pancakes. They ate, then watched TV. Always before bed. They preferred old comedies and cartoons now—new ones didn’t make much sense. This time, just one cartoon. Helen got up: ‘I’m off to bed. I’m tired.’ ‘I’ll go too.’ ‘Let me have a good look at you!’ she said suddenly. ‘Why?’ ‘Just let me…’ They looked at each other for a long time. Maybe thinking of their youth, when everything was still ahead. ‘I’ll walk you to your bed,’ Helen offered. She took her husband’s arm and together they moved slowly away. He tucked her in, then went to his own room. Something weighed heavy on his heart. He couldn’t sleep for ages. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all, but the clock showed it was 2am. He got up and went to his wife’s room. She was lying there, eyes open. ‘Helen!’ He took her hand. ‘Helen, what’s wrong? He-len!’ Suddenly, he struggled to breathe. He made it to his room, fetched the prepared documents, placed them on the table. Returned to his wife, gazed at her face. Then he lay beside her and closed his eyes. He saw his Helen, young and beautiful, as she was seventy-five years ago. She was walking towards a distant light. He hurried after her, caught her hand. In the morning, Janet entered their bedroom. They were lying side by side, identical happy smiles still on their faces. Finally, Janet called the ambulance. The doctor shook his head in surprise. ‘Gone together. Must have loved each other very much…’ They were taken away. Janet sat down, exhausted, then noticed the documents and the will made out in her name. She lowered her head onto her arms and wept… Leave a like and share your thoughts in the comments!

Ashamed to Take You to the Banquet – Denis Barely Looked Up from His Phone. – Normal People Will Be There. Twelve Years of Marriage, Two Kids, and Now He’s Embarrassed. — I’ll Wear the Black Dress. The One You Bought Me. — It’s Not About the Dress, – He Finally Looked at Her. – It’s You. You’ve Let Yourself Go. Hair, Face… You Just Aren’t the Same. Vadim and His Wife Will Be There – She’s a Stylist. You Get It. — Then I Won’t Go. — Smart Choice. I’ll Say You’ve Got a Temperature. He Headed for the Shower, Leaving Nadia Still Standing in the Kitchen. Kids Sleeping Next Door, Bills, Mortgage, School Meetings. She’d Disappeared Into This Life, and Now Her Husband Was Ashamed of Her. ‘Has He Completely Lost It?’ – Her Friend Helen the Hairdresser Looked at Nadia Like She’d Announced the End of the World. ‘Ashamed to Take His Wife to a Banquet? Who Does He Think He Is?’ ‘Warehouse Manager. Got a Promotion.’ ‘Now His Wife’s Not Good Enough?’ Helen Slammed the Kettle On. – ‘Remember What You Did Before the Kids?’ ‘I Was a Teacher.’ ‘Not Work – I Mean Your Beaded Jewellery. I Still Have the Blue Stone Necklace. People Always Ask About It.’ Nadia Remembered. Jewellery on Evenings, Back When Denis Still Noticed Her. ‘That Was Ages Ago.’ ‘If You Did It Before, You Can Again. When’s the Banquet?’ ‘Saturday.’ ‘Perfect. Tomorrow Come See Me – I’ll Do Your Hair and Makeup. We’ll Call Olivia – She Has Dresses. Get Out Your Jewellery.’ ‘But He Said—’ ‘Forget What He Said. You’re Going. He’ll Be Shaking in His Boots.’ Olivia Brought a Plum Dress with Bare Shoulders. They Spent Ages Fitting It. ‘You’ll Need Special Jewellery with This Colour,’ Olivia Spun Around. ‘No Silver, No Gold.’ Nadia Opened an Old Box. There It Was – a Handmade Necklace and Earrings in Blue Goldstone, Created Years Ago for an Occasion That Never Happened. ‘This Is a Masterpiece,’ Olivia Whispered. ‘You Did This?’ ‘I Did.’ Helen Styled Loose Waves and Simple, Elegant Makeup. Nadia Dressed, Fastened Her Jewellery, and Felt the Stones on Her Neck – Cool and Significant. ‘Go Look,’ Olivia Nudged Her. Nadia Saw Not the Woman of Twelve Years Doing Floors and Soups – But Herself. The Woman She’d Been. At the Riverside Restaurant, Late As Intended, Conversations Fell Silent. Denis by the Bar Laughed—until He Saw Her. His Face Froze. She Walked Past and Sat at the Far Table, Back Straight, Hands Calm in Her Lap. ‘Excuse Me, Is This Seat Taken?’ A Man in His Mid-Forties, Grey Suit, Intelligent Eyes. ‘It’s Free.’ ‘Owen. Partner of Vadim in Bakeries. And You?’ ‘Nadia. Warehouse Manager’s Wife.’ He Looked from Her Face to Her Jewellery. ‘Goldstone? Handmade, Surely. My Mother Collected Stones – Rare Piece.’ ‘I Made It.’ ‘Really?’ Owen Leaned Closer. ‘That’s Quality. Do You Sell Them?’ ‘No. I’m…a Housewife.’ ‘Strange. With Hands Like That, You’re Wasted at Home.’ He Spent the Evening with Her – Talking Stones, Creativity, and Losing Ourselves in Daily Routines. Dancing, Sparkling Drinks, Laughter. Nadia Noticed Denis Watching from Across the Room, Face Darkening. As She Left, Owen Walked Her to the Car. ‘If You Ever Get Back to Jewellery-Making – Call Me,’ Handing Over His Card. ‘I Know People Who Value Work Like Yours.’ At Home, Denis Lasted Five Minutes. ‘What Did You Think You Were Doing? The Whole Evening with Owen! Everyone Noticed. My Wife Throwing Herself at Another Man!’ ‘I Wasn’t Throwing. I Was Talking.’ ‘Talking! You Danced Three Times! Vadim Asked What Was Going On. I Was So Ashamed!’ ‘You’re Always Ashamed,’ Nadia Kicked off Her Shoes. ‘Ashamed to Take Me Out, Ashamed When People Look at Me. What Are You Never Ashamed Of?’ ‘Shut Up! You Think Throwing on a Dress Makes You Someone? You’re Nothing. A Housewife on My Wages, Pretending to Be a Princess.’ Once, She’d Have Cried. Gone to Bed. But Something Snapped, or Slotted Into Place. ‘Weak Men Fear Strong Women,’ She Said Quietly. ‘You’re Insecure, Denis. Scared I’ll See How Small You Are.’ ‘Get Out.’ ‘I’m Filing for Divorce.’ He Was Silent. For the First Time, His Eyes Held Confusion, Not Anger. ‘Where Will You Go with Two Kids? You Can’t Live on Beads.’ ‘I’ll Manage.’ In the Morning, She Rang Owen. He Didn’t Rush. They Met in Cafés, Discussing Business. He Knew a Gallery Owner. People Wanted Real Handcrafted Pieces. ‘You’re Talented, Nadia. Talent and Taste Are Rare.’ She Worked Nights. Goldstone, Jasper, Carnelian. Owen Took Her Pieces to the Gallery – They Sold Out. Orders Kept Coming. ‘Does Denis Know?’ ‘He Barely Speaks to Me.’ ‘And the Divorce?’ ‘Found a Lawyer. It’s Moving Forward.’ Owen Helped Quietly. Gave Contacts. Helped Her Find a Flat. When Nadia Packed Her Bags, Denis Laughed at the Door. ‘You’ll Be Back in a Week – Begging.’ She Closed the Case and Walked Out. Six Months. Two Bedrooms on the Edge of Town, Kids, Work. Gallery Offered Her an Exhibition. Nadia Started a Social Media Page for Her Designs – Followers Grew. Owen Visited, Brought Books for the Kids, Checked In. Gently, Never Pushing. ‘Mum, Do You Like Him?’ Svetlana Asked One Night. ‘I Do.’ ‘We Like Him Too. He Doesn’t Shout.’ A Year Later, Owen Proposed. No Big Kneeling, No Roses – Just over Dinner. ‘I Want the Three of You to Be with Me.’ Nadia Was Ready. Two Years Passed. Denis, Now a Labourer After Vadim Sacked Him for How He’d Treated Nadia, Walked the Shopping Center in a Worn Jacket, Burdened by Debt and Loneliness. He Saw Them Outside a Jewellery Store – Nadia in a Pale Coat, Hair Styled, Blue Goldstone at Her Neck. Owen Held Her Hand. The Kids Laughed. Denis Watched as They Got Into Their Car—Owen Opened Nadia’s Door. She Smiled. Then Denis Looked at His Own Reflection—Grey Face, Empty Eyes. He Had Lost a Queen. And She’d Learned to Live Without Him. That Was His Greatest Punishment: Realising Too Late What He’d Had… Thank you, dear readers, for your thoughtful comments and likes!