**A New Year’s Surprise**
Emily hurried home, barely noticing the icy pavement beneath her feet. No wonder—her handbag held two plane tickets. A booked hotel room awaited them in the south. They’d dreamed of spending New Year’s by the sea, soaking up warmth without a care. No cooking, just relaxation, poolside lounging. A fairy-tale escape.
But something always got in the way. Either money was tight—they were saving for a mortgage deposit—or they simply forgot to book flights and hotels amid life’s chaos.
Now, they owned their flat, with just a small sum left to pay. It was time to think about children. If not now, parenthood would delay their dream even longer. So Emily decided to gift James a New Year’s surprise.
Of course, her mother-in-law would scold her for wasting money on nonsense. “Who goes to the sea in winter?” she’d snipe. “And what about us? Why didn’t you ask?” Resentments would flare, accusations fly. Not that her mother-in-law liked her much anyway. But Emily could take it. Nothing fatal. The shock on James’s face would be worth it.
If she’d consulted anyone, the surprise would’ve been ruined. Her mother-in-law would’ve kicked up a fuss, and the trip would’ve been off. It never crossed Emily’s mind that James might hate the surprise or have other plans. He always said he loathed stuffing himself with salads in front of the telly. He loved crowds and laughter.
The ticket envelope had sat in her desk drawer at work until today. Now, she brought it home to give to James. Their flight was in two days.
Arriving home, Emily tucked the envelope under the Christmas tree where he’d spot it instantly. She changed and started dinner, ears pricked for the door. Every few minutes, she checked the clock.
By half eight, worry gnawed at her. The pan on the stove had cooled long ago, yet no sign of James. Her mood plummeted. She called repeatedly, but his phone was switched off. Emily paced, darting to the window, straining for the sound of his car. Dark thoughts swirled—each worse than the last. She redialled, but the automated voice only repeated, “The phone is currently unavailable.”
She shoved the dread aside, telling herself James had lost track of time with mates. But why turn off his phone? Why no warning?
Twice, she peeked out the door. Once, her dad had come home drunk, mates dumping him on the landing to avoid her mum’s wrath. A neighbour found him and rang the bell.
No one stood outside now. The stairwell stayed silent. The tickets, the surprise—all forgotten. She just wanted James safe.
Sleep was impossible. She curled on the sofa, knees to chest, braced to wait all night. The phone’s shrill ring shattered the quiet. Emily jumped, snatched it up, leaped to her feet.
“James? Where are you? What’s happened?” she demanded.
“Nothing’s happened,” purred a sweet, syrupy voice. Stunned, Emily pulled the phone away—James’s number. “Your James is sleeping. Like a baby.”
“Where? Why? Who is this?” Emily asked, already knowing.
A friend had once warned her about surprises. Her sister gifted her husband a couples’ spa pass. They went a few times before work piled up, and he “caught a cold.” Later, the sister found her missing membership card had been used—by him and another woman.
The memory flashed through Emily’s mind. The voice snapped her back.
“James is at my place. Alive and well, don’t fret. Guess who I am? He loves *me*. We’ve been seeing each other six months. Too kind to tell you. I thought I’d help.” The line went dead.
Emily sank onto the sofa, phone limp in her hand. The screen darkened, like her hopes, her joy, her New Year’s fairy tale. Only hurt remained.
She’d heard stories like this, read them online. Never thought it’d be her. Six years together. Was that enough to grow tired? It couldn’t be real. James would walk in any second, laugh it off as a prank.
She called again. Still off. She pictured a blonde in a robe, fishing his phone from his pocket, smirking as she dialled. Lips swollen from kisses.
*Six months. Since July. While I planned this surprise.* What stung more—his betrayal or her wasted effort?
The ticket envelope still lay under the tree. No tears came. Her mind raced with one question: *What now?*
She curled tighter on the sofa, drifting into fitful sleep, only to jerk awake, remembering.
The key turned. Light spilled under the door. Fabric rustled. *He’ll explain. The call was a dream. Please…*
Footsteps halted by the sofa.
“I’m awake,” Emily said. “Late at work? Why turn off your phone? What if something happened to me? Or your parents?”
“Battery died,” James said carefully.
Emily opened her call log, thrust the screen at him.
“Look. You rang me at half twelve. Explain that. Or don’t. Your girlfriend already did. She says you’ve loved her for six months. That you pitied me.”
James tried to speak, but Emily barrelled on.
“I had a surprise for you too. Under the tree. Two tickets to our dream. Remember? New Year’s by the sea?”
“I’m sorry—”
“I can’t,” Emily said, startled by her own calm. But beneath it, something trembled, ready to erupt.
“Leave.”
James sat beside her, reached to hold her.
“Don’t touch me! Go… *Go!*” Her voice rose, cracked. James gripped her. She thrashed, then crumpled, sobbing.
He left. Emily sat frozen, then grabbed the envelope. She almost tore it—but stopped. The tickets. Date: December 30th. Time… Place…
Suddenly, they were a lifeline. She’d go alone. The hotel promised festivities, all-night fun. She could sell the second ticket.
She rang her mum. “James and I are flying south. Back in a week.” Then she packed.
En route to the airport, she doubted she’d board. Moving felt easier than waiting. The illusion of purpose.
Even on the plane, she barely believed it—until the coast emerged through clouds. Should she head straight to the sea or check in first? *The sea.*
No other solo travellers. A pale woman in a scarf seemed alone—until a younger man helped her to her room. Her son, surely.
They met on the beach days later.
“Where’s your mum?” Emily asked.
“Not well.”
Andrei was younger up close. His wife had left when his mother fell ill. This trip was her dream. Doctors had approved the mild winter sun.
They walked most evenings while his mum rested. Emily left first, but they swapped numbers.
Surprisingly, she returned home steady. If she grieved, it was faint. Simpler than she’d feared.
Her mum called. “James rang, asking where you were. You said you’d go together. Did you fight?”
“Later,” Emily said.
The flat bore traces of James—some things missing, not all. Hoping to return? Her phone lit up with his calls. Apologies. Pleas to talk.
“No. I want a divorce.”
Andrei called in March. “Mum died two weeks ago. I kept thinking of you. I couldn’t offer anything before.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m free. I can offer you my heart. Mum liked you. Said you were brave.”
“You barely know me. I’ll call you.”
Post-divorce, Emily cleaned furiously, purging memories. In the bathroom, she paused.
*Why? I don’t want to live here, haunted by the past.* She set down the cloth, called Andrei. Warm May air stirred outside.
“I thought you’d never ring,” he said.
“I wasn’t ready. Now I am. Just… give me time.”
She wasn’t prepared for new love. Not yet. But the past faded, replaced by the shimmer of tomorrow.
