Emily closed the file and sent it to her work email. On Monday at the office, she’d open it, print it out, stamp it, and submit the report. Done! Freedom!
She worked as an accountant for a small London firm. The workload was heavy, but the pay was decent, and the office was just a short walk from her flat—no need to waste time commuting, crammed into public transport during rush hour. A stroll to work, fresh air—she couldn’t complain.
The accounting team was all women. She wasn’t particularly close with anyone. Most had families, kids, while Emily was single. If someone asked her to help, take on extra work, she never refused—even if it meant working evenings and weekends at home, like right now.
She woke up early on Saturday and went straight to her laptop, double-checked everything, and sent the file. Now she could freshen up, have breakfast, and then… Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing phone.
“Emily, hi!” came a cheerful female voice.
“Hi,” Emily replied cautiously. “Who’s this?”
“Wow, really? It’s me, Megan!”
“Megan?” Emily repeated skeptically. “You’re in London?”
“Not yet, almost there,” Megan laughed.
Emily didn’t know what to say. Of all people, she least expected to hear from her old school friend. After what Megan had done fifteen years ago, they hadn’t spoken. Now she wished she’d changed her number.
“Em, I don’t know anyone else in London,” Megan broke the silence. “Can you meet me? Please. I’ve been divorced from Chris for ages. Wanted a fresh start.” Megan’s voice was heavy with guilt.
Emily didn’t want to see her. But so much time had passed—old wounds had healed. And she wouldn’t mind hearing news from their hometown. Fine. She’d meet her, drop her wherever she needed, and that would be it.
“What time’s your train?” she asked flatly.
“Twenty minutes. You’ll come, right?” Megan’s voice brightened.
“It’ll take me at least an hour—bus, then the Tube. Wait in the station’s main hall. Don’t wander off.” Emily heard her own voice, surprised she was actually going.
“I’ll wait,” Megan promised.
Emily eyed the cold kettle regretfully, washed up quickly, touched up her makeup, dressed, and left. She rented a small one-bed flat in a London suburb. Cheap, but fine for one.
Entering the bustling station hall, Emily hesitated. How would she find Megan in this crowd? She hadn’t seen her in fifteen years—would she even recognise her? Walking down the middle, she made sure she was visible.
“Emily!” A delighted voice called out.
Megan—recognisable, yet changed—darted toward her from the kiosks. She’d gained weight, lightened her hair, heavy makeup aging her. But Emily knew her instantly.
Megan pulled her into a tight hug.
“Finally. I can barely stand.” She linked arms with Emily, dragging her toward her suitcase and oversized bag by a stall.
“You can’t just leave your things—they’ll get stolen,” Emily muttered.
“They didn’t. Money and documents are on me.” Megan glanced down at her ample chest.
Emily shook her head, scanning the crowd—no one cared.
Megan balanced the bag on her suitcase and looked at Emily expectantly.
“Where do you need to go?” Emily sighed.
“You still mad? I was hoping… Could I stay with you a few days? Just until I find a place?” Megan bit her lip.
“Wow. Stole my boyfriend, now wants to crash. Should’ve ignored the call,” Emily thought bitterly.
“Come on,” she said, heading for the exit.
Megan chattered behind her, but Emily pretended to focus on weaving through the crowd. Eventually, Megan fell silent, panting to keep up.
“Thought you’d live in central London. Doesn’t even feel like the city,” Megan complained when they reached the tiny flat. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a place. You live alone? There are men’s slippers.”
“Alone. They’re for guests,” Emily lied, regretting not hiding them.
Megan flopped onto the sofa, stretching her legs.
“I’m in London! Can’t believe it.”
Emily warmed tea, pulled bread and ham from the fridge, and made sandwiches.
“Got wine? Let’s toast,” Megan suggested.
Emily brought out a half-finished bottle, set two glasses.
Megan drank freely, oblivious as Emily barely sipped, and launched into stories. Her and Chris split right after the wedding—handsome, but awful temper. Second husband was older—married for money. Cheated with his driver, got thrown out. The divorce drained her, but she had money now. Came to London for a fresh start.
“Smart, leaving right after school. Nothing back home—so boring…”
Emily hadn’t needed to leave for accounting school. She and Chris had been together since Year 10. Prom night, they’d planned to marry after she finished college. Then Megan got him drunk, slept with him, lied about a pregnancy. Chris married her.
Emily cried, then left. She wasn’t academic—just needed to earn. When the truth came out, they divorced.
“Don’t let Megan back in your life. If Chris forgot you that easily, he never loved you. Better now than after marriage.”
Now, listening to Megan, Emily remembered her mum’s words. Thank God she hadn’t mentioned Daniel.
They’d met six months ago on the Tube. London-born, his parents bought him a flat but were picky about girlfriends. They liked Emily. “Classy, self-respecting—rare for outsiders,” his mum said.
After Chris, Emily hadn’t wanted serious—until Daniel. She imagined growing old together, weekends in the countryside, kids, grandkids…
Now Daniel was away until Tuesday. She hoped Megan would be gone by then.
But days passed—no move. Doubtful Megan even looked, too busy clubbing, stumbling home at dawn. Asleep when Emily left, gone when she returned. No chance to talk.
“Want me to say something?” Daniel offered once.
“No, I’ll handle it,” Emily said quickly, dreading them meeting.
One evening, she found Megan home—asleep on the sofa in Emily’s dress, wearing her bracelet. Emily seethed. Two weeks freeloading, now stealing her things?
“Meg, wake up!” Emily yelled. Megan mumbled, eyes shut. “Up, or I’ll dump water on you.”
“What’s the yelling?” Megan cracked one eye.
“Why’re you in my dress? My bracelet?”
“Jealous?” Megan slurred.
“They’re mine. You promised to find a place—”
“You kicking me out?” Megan sat up, suddenly coherent.
“Don’t take it wrong, but I have my own life. The flat’s too small. Take that off.”
“Fine.” Megan yanked the dress over her head, handed it over.
Emily choked—Megan wore her underwear too.
“Want these off?” Megan reached for the bra clasp.
“Keep them,” Emily snapped, remembering her blouse smelling of Megan’s perfume. She’d dismissed it.
“You need to leave. You said you had money.”
“Had. Gone,” Megan spat, cinching a robe. “I’ll go tomorrow. Not now.”
“Could’ve at least washed up,” Emily muttered, scrubbing dishes.
The doorbell rang. Daniel stood there.
“You weren’t supposed to come.”
“Thought you’d need help,” he said, eyes drifting past her.
Emily turned—Megan smirking.
“Your bloke? Shy, but you pick well. I’m Meg. Come in, handsome.”
Emily wanted to throttle her.
Daniel introduced himself, smiling. Emily couldn’t believe it.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Megan purred, swaying to the kitchen, legs on display.
She played hostess, brushing against Daniel, flirting. Emily fought tears. Again. All her boyfriends fell for Megan. All his sweet words—forgotten.
“Have tea. I’m up early,” Emily said stiffly, storming out.
She hoped he’d follow. He didn’t. Rage boiled inside. She’d throw them both out—never speak to him again. Never!
Megan strutted in, changed into trousers and a top, tossed the bracelet onto the sofa.
“Me and Daniel are off. Sleep well.”
“Em…” Daniel peeked in. Emily didn’t turn. Tears blurred her vision.
The door slammed. Emily sobbed, cursing herself for letting Megan in, for losing Daniel. She’d dreamed of a life with him—kids, grandkids, growing old. Never trusting again. Never!
Cried out, she washed dishes, scrubbing Megan’s lipstick-stained cup like it carried disease. Washed her face, sat on the sofa. What was wrong with her? Why did men always choose Megan? Her fault—should’ve said no. ServedEmily finally understood that some friendships were never meant to last, and as she watched the sunset from her window, she vowed to never let the past darken her future again.
