A Loving Heart
Tom stood by the window, gazing at the sunlit courtyard below. Next to their building stood a Tesco Express, and people often cut through the yard to save time. But Tom wasn’t interested in the passersby—he was waiting for one person: Emily.
For as long as he’d lived in this building, he’d been in love with her. Emily was two years older and lived two floors down. There was nothing extraordinary about her—just an ordinary girl, one of millions. But to Tom, she was special. The heart wants what it wants, and his had chosen her without his permission.
She had just finished her A-levels and was preparing to study nursing at university. Now, he wouldn’t be able to walk behind her to school or catch glimpses of her between classes. All he could do was keep watch by the window, hoping for a sight of her.
Emily never noticed him. To her, Tom was just a boy from the neighbourhood, so he kept his feelings hidden. He was afraid she’d reject him as nothing more than a schoolkid. He waited, telling himself he’d confess when he was older, when he’d finished school. But the moment he got his diploma and prepared for uni, Emily got married—suddenly, almost impulsively.
From the window, Tom watched as a silver Mercedes adorned with ribbons pulled up outside. A tall man in a navy-blue suit stepped out, pacing impatiently, glancing up at the second-floor windows. Finally, Emily burst out of the building in a cloud of white lace and tulle. Rushing down the steps, she twisted her ankle and nearly fell—but her fiancé caught her just in time. He helped her into the car, then removed her shoe, exchanging a few words with the driver. Tom guessed the heel had snapped.
Emily’s mother hurried out with a pair of white trainers. That was how Emily ended up getting married—no time to buy new shoes.
The whole neighbourhood buzzed about it. Everyone agreed it was a bad omen, that the marriage wouldn’t last or bring happiness.
After the wedding, Tom spent two days lying on his bed, facing the wall. His mother nearly called the doctor, fearing he was ill. On the third day, he returned to his post at the window—but Emily had vanished. His mother told him the newlyweds had left for Spain the morning after the wedding. Tom dreaded the thought that she might move away for good, but two weeks later, a tanned and glowing Emily walked through the courtyard again. She was back! His heart leapt with joy.
Emily’s mother had left to stay with her older son, whose wife had just had a baby, wanting to give the newlyweds space. Yet despite the gossip, Emily and her husband seemed happy together.
Life settled into a new rhythm. Tom could see his beloved every day—though now, he often had to witness her with her husband. To his relief, they divorced within six months.
Tom’s mother broke the news over dinner. The omen had come true—their marriage hadn’t lasted. The rumours swirled: apparently, the husband’s ex-wife had visited Emily. They had a young son together. The couple had split in anger, but he’d kept seeing the boy, and things had mended between them. Realising he’d rushed into remarriage, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Emily—so his ex-wife stepped in.
“Know the truth,” she’d said. “He loves his son. I’ve forgiven him. Let him go. You’ll find happiness elsewhere.”
Emily did let go. That night, Tom imagined he could hear her crying through the walls. He waited by the window for days, but she never appeared. Fear gripped him—what if she’d hurt herself? Heart pounding, he ran to her flat.
She answered the door, tear-streaked and dishevelled, her eyes swollen but glimmering with something like hope. Seeing him, she turned away and collapsed onto the sofa, burying her face in a cushion. Tom hesitated, then stepped inside.
Her sobs tore at him. He crouched beside her, gently rubbing her back until she quieted. When she turned to him, her face blotchy from tears, he loved her more than ever—messy, vulnerable, and real.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured. “Wait for me. After uni, I’ll marry you.”
He kept his word. Their paths crossed often—Emily trudging home from work, head down, while he carried her shopping bags, cracking jokes to lift her spirits. She never invited him in.
Then his mother delivered another blow: Emily had a new man—a married doctor twice her age, with a daughter her own age. Jealousy flared, but at least marriage seemed unlikely.
Winter came, snow blanketing the courtyard, fairy lights twinkling in every window. One evening, Emily knocked on Tom’s door. His mother was out.
“Do you have an onion?” she asked breathlessly, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Mine’s gone bad, and I’ve no time to shop. Please?”
Disappointed, he fetched one—then another when she asked.
“Expecting company?” he dared to ask. She thanked him and left without answering.
Devoured by jealousy, he glued himself to the window. A Land Rover pulled up; a man in a waxed jacket and flat cap strode inside. Tom paced like a caged animal, imagining their evening—wine, dinner, intimacy—until the man left just minutes later.
His pulse raced. He hurried downstairs, ringing Emily’s bell. She opened the door, her eyes hollow.
“What now?” she said dully. “Need more onions?”
“Are you alone? Can I come in?”
After a pause, she stepped aside. The table was set for two, a candle extinguished. Wine gleamed untouched in glasses.
“Let’s drink,” she said, reaching for the bottle.
He poured. The Merlot was rich and sweet. Two glasses in, courage surged.
“Did your doctor leave so soon?”
“He came to say he won’t leave his wife.” Her voice cracked. “Why does no one love me?”
“I do,” Tom blurted. “Since I was fourteen—” The words poured out: the years of waiting, the jealousy, the ache in his heart.
Emily listened, then took his hand and led him to the bedroom. At the edge of the bed, she undid the buttons of her blouse. Tom froze.
The lace of her bra, delicate and perfect, left him breathless. He’d seen his mother’s plain, worn underwear drying in the bathroom—ordinary, unremarkable. This was different.
When she reached for her skirt’s zip, he stopped her.
“Don’t.”
His head spun from wine and her closeness, but he stepped back.
“Not like this.”
She sank onto the bed, tears splashing her lap. He sat beside her, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, too afraid to embrace her. She leaned into him instead.
“You’re the best,” he whispered. “I promised Mum I wouldn’t marry till after uni. She raised me alone—I can’t break her heart. But will you marry me?”
Emily pulled back, studying him. His stomach lurched—would she laugh? Instead, she smiled.
“Yes.”
Joy exploded in his chest. He was babbling about work and their future when the doorbell rang. His mother stormed in, lips pressed thin, eyes blazing.
“Come home. Now.”
She ignored Emily, marching out. Tom followed, enduring her tirade in the hallway.
“She’s trouble. Plenty of nice girls your age—”
“I love her,” he said firmly. “We’ll marry after uni. If you interfere, I’ll move in with her tonight.”
His mother deflated. Victory.
From then on, he took Emily on dates—cinema, walks home, sharing stories from uni while she recounted hospital tales. After graduation, he landed a job at a top firm. One day, roses in hand, he returned to her flat. Her mother answered, the flat smelling of fresh baking.
Emily walked in, unsurprised to find him there. Her mother excused herself, leaving them alone.
“Remember my promise?” Tom said, pulling out a ring. “My heart’s always been yours. Marry me?”
She opened the box, then met his gaze—twice saying yes.
The neighbours talked, some pitying Tom, others shrugging. But on their wedding day, as he carried her over the threshold (lest she trip and break a heel), he was the happiest man alive.
A year later, Tom pushed a pram through the courtyard while Emily waved from the window, beaming.
Love, it seemed, was stronger than omens.
