Charlotte and I hit it off instantly on our very first day at school, while Oliver only joined our little gang when the academic year was nearly over. It was quite clear to me from the start that Oliver had a soft spot for Charlotteeven going so far as to propose to her on New Years Eve, with all the fireworks and glitter. Charlotte, always the diligent student, declined politely, saying she was too wrapped up in her studies and wasnt ready for romance.
Oliver, bless him, didnt lose hope. He remained steadfast and loyal, always at Charlottes side. At the close of the second term, he gave it another shot, but Charlotte gently rebuffed him again, suggesting they stay just friends. Later, she confided in me that she preferred blokes who went to the gym and had a healthy bank account.
Regardless of Charlottes preferences, I knew Oliver was a genuinely kind chap, despite lacking in wealth or bulging muscles. Eventually, Charlotte married someone who ticked all her boxes and invited us to the wedding. Alas, I was too ill to attend, and Oliver turned down the invite as well, nursing his wounded pride.
That day, Oliver sought comfort in my company, sharing his heartache over Charlotte marrying someone else. After Charlottes wedding, we started spending more time together, and our friendship blossomed even further. Things got tricky when my gran fell ill, and mum had to dash about caring for her. Oliver confessed how much he missed me during that time, and slowly, our friendship grew into something deeper.
A year later, we walked down the aisle ourselves and began piecing together our lifecomplete with mortgage, mismatched mugs, and all. But our domestic bliss was rudely interrupted when Charlotte reappeared, now a mum of twins, three years after her own wedding. Shed been widowed, as her husbandthe Mayor of Manchester, no lesshad passed away unexpectedly. Charlotte asked if she could bunk with us for a bit, until she found somewhere new to settle.
