Flowers
Vera lay on her bed with her eyes closed. Across the narrow room, Olivia sat cross-legged on her own bed, reading aloud from a textbook. Suddenly, Vera’s phone burst to life with a popular ringtone. Olivia snapped her book shut and shot her friend a disapproving look.
Vera answered reluctantly, but a second later, she was sitting upright, then throwing her phone aside, jumping up, and darting around the cramped dorm room, stuffing clothes into a duffel bag.
“Where are you going? What happened?” Olivia asked, alarmed.
“The neighbor just called—Mum’s been taken to hospital. A heart attack.” Vera zipped up the bag and hurried to the door, where their coats hung and their boots were lined up.
“But the exam’s tomorrow! She’ll be looked after at the hospital. Take the exam, then go,” Olivia said, standing up as Vera tugged on her boots.
“Liv, explain it to the faculty for me. I’ll sort everything out when I’m back. I’ll do the retakes during the break. My coach leaves in forty minutes.” Vera was already fastening her coat.
“Call me when you know how she’s doing,” Olivia said, but Vera was already out the door. The sharp click of her heels faded down the corridor.
Olivia sighed, then noticed Vera’s phone charger still on the bed. She grabbed it, sprinted barefoot into the hall, and shouted, “Vera! Wait!”
The front door banged shut downstairs. Olivia leaped down the steps, shoved the door open, and nearly tumbled outside. “Vera!”
Vera turned back, saw the cable in Olivia’s hand, and jogged over to take it. “Thanks,” she said, already rushing off again.
“Good heavens, girls! One nearly knocks the door off its hinges, the other runs outside in bare feet. What’s got into you?” The dorm matron, Mrs. Wilkins, glared from her desk.
“Sorry, Mrs. Wilkins. Vera’s mum’s in hospital. It’s freezing—I’d better go,” Olivia said, shifting uncomfortably as grit dug into her bare feet.
“Oh Lord!” Mrs. Wilkins dropped heavily into her chair. “God preserve us!”
Back in the room, Olivia brushed the grit off her feet, tidied Vera’s scattered things, slipped into slippers, and took the kettle to the kitchen. The exam was tomorrow, but she needed tea to warm up before diving back into her books.
Darkness had fallen when a cautious knock sounded at the door.
“Who is it?” Olivia called. No answer. She sighed, stood, and opened the door.
“Hi.” Anthony stood there, holding a small bouquet.
“Come in,” Olivia said. Once he was inside, she added, “Vera’s gone home.”
“But her exam’s tomorrow,” he said, surprised.
“I’ll talk to the faculty. She’ll retake it after the break.” Olivia’s eyes flicked to the flowers.
“These are for you,” he said, offering them.
“Thank you. Want some tea?” She took the vase from the windowsill.
“I’ll get water—you make yourself comfortable,” she said with a smile before leaving.
Anthony only took off his shoes, then sat on Vera’s bed, running a hand over the cheap bedspread as if smoothing it for her.
Olivia returned, set the vase on the table, and stepped back to admire the bouquet. “It’s lovely. What are these?”
“Sweet peas,” Anthony said. “I should go.”
“You and Vera had plans, didn’t you?” Olivia rushed to ask, not wanting him to leave.
“Yeah. I got us tickets to a gig.”
“Really? Take me instead. No sense wasting them.”
Anthony hesitated. “But your exam…”
“So? I’ve been studying all day. I need a break.”
He wavered. Vera was gone, the tickets would go to waste. They’d only just started dating—it wasn’t serious. Going with her roommate wasn’t betrayal, was it?
“Alright,” he said.
“Yay!” Olivia clapped her hands. “Wait outside—I’ll get ready.”
Five minutes later, she emerged, mascara and lipstick freshened, hair neatly pinned.
“Let’s go or we’ll miss it,” Anthony said.
At the gig, Olivia danced, jumped, and sang along with the crowd, stealing glances at Anthony. He loosened up, caught up in her energy, shouting along too.
Afterwards, they walked back, excitedly discussing the show.
“I loved that one bit,” Olivia hummed a tune.
“Yeah, and when they did…” Anthony mimicked the melody, mangling a few lyrics.
At the dorm, Olivia tugged the locked door. “Mrs. Wilkins is on duty. She’ll never let us in. What do we do?”
“Come on.” Anthony took her arm, leading her around the building. Two girls were climbing through a first-floor window. “Quick—after them!”
He boosted Olivia up; hands pulled her inside. Then a whistle shrilled nearby.
“Hurry!” Olivia hissed from the window.
Anthony scrambled in, and she yanked the curtain shut as footsteps passed outside. Giggles erupted behind them.
“Thanks,” Anthony muttered, nudging Olivia toward the door.
They bolted upstairs, collapsed into her room, and laughed.
“I should go,” Anthony said once they’d caught their breath.
The room was dark—they hadn’t turned on the light.
“Stay. I like you. A lot,” Olivia whispered, pressing close, tilting her face up…
Vera returned to the quietened dorm at the end of the break. Olivia and Anthony were still away. Most students were. Vera arranged her exam retake with a hospital note. Her mum was out of danger but still recovering.
She scraped through the exam. Term started, but Olivia never came back, never answered calls. The faculty said she’d taken leave due to illness.
Soon, Vera got a new roommate. Studies, Anthony… No time to wonder about Olivia. Soon, everyone forgot her. Anthony never told Vera about the gig, what happened after. Even he wondered if it had been real.
Twenty-one years later
“Mum, Dad, I’m home!” A girl who looked just like Anthony walked in.
“How was uni?” he asked, lowering his newspaper.
“Let her change first,” Vera called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”
At the table, their daughter said, “Today I met a girl at uni who looks exactly like me. Everyone noticed.”
“It happens,” Vera said. “They say everyone has a double. More roast?”
“Dad, you zoned out,” their daughter, Marina, said.
Anthony blinked. “Did you talk to her?”
“Yeah. She’s a finalist. Get this—her name’s Claire, and her surname’s… Sunny.”
“Sunny? When I was at uni, my roommate was Claire… Claire Lightfoot, I think. She left after first year. Remember, Anthony?” Vera studied him.
“Yeah! Claire Lightfoot. Pretty name, right?” Marina said.
“I only had eyes for you,” Anthony said, sipping tea—then coughing. “I’ve burned my tongue!”
“Sorry.” Vera rushed to add cold water to his glass.
“I’m done,” Anthony muttered, leaving the table.
“Are they really that alike? Vera asked, watching him go.
“Everyone says so…”
Anthony pretended to sleep on the sofa, thinking. *Coincidence? Or… was it real? Why did she leave? Why didn’t I realise?*
“Anthony, you’ll ruin your sleep,” Vera said later. “Are you ill?”
“No.”
He barely slept. In the morning, he called in sick—then went to the dorm.
“Does Claire Lightfoot live here?” he asked the matron.
She wasn’t the same woman—but close enough.
“Who’s asking?”
“Her uncle. Just passing through…”
The matron eyed him skeptically. Three girls descended the stairs.
“There she is. Lightfoot, someone’s here for you.”
Claire’s gaze skimmed Anthony. “Who are you?”
“Can we talk?” he said.
She hesitated, then stepped outside.
“Is your mum Olivia? Olivia Lightfoot? Were you born in September?”
“Who *are* you?”
He exhaled. “I didn’t know. We were only together once… What time do you finish? I’ll wait.”
“Three.”
He waited outside her uni until she emerged.
“Hungry?” he asked when she got into his car.
“Just talk.”
He told her everything. “I never knew. If I had…”
“And what would you have done?”
“I don’t know. Is she…?”
“Mum died giving birth. Grandma said it was Rh incompatibility. She wouldn’t let Mum terminate. Later, she regretted it.”
Anthony handed her his card. “If you need anything—call. Anytime.”
“Won’t your wife mind?”
“No. I’ll tell her.”
That evening, he did.
“You kept thisThe years ahead were filled with quiet understanding, shared birthdays, and the unspoken bond of a family shaped by the past but moving forward together.
