Elizabeth boarded the double-decker at the stop on the corner, just as she always did when traveling home. The only spare seat was by a man who appeared a touch older than herself. At first, she barely noticed him; her mind was tangled up with a jumble of urgent worries and unfinished business. She was facing a seven-hour ride down to Somerset, where her parents lived, and each mile left less time to sort through the muddle in her thoughts.
Once Elizabeth had settled in, the bus jolted away from the curb. Soon, a faint scent wafted through the air a peculiar mix of musk and rich, over-roasted coffee beans, laced with something slightly burnt yet oddly comforting. The aroma pried open the cellar of her memory, unearthing long-stilled feelings.
She was seventeen again, lying on dew-speckled grass near the Avon, the pressing warmth of summer air and her heart fluttering like a moth. Next to her was Oliver, her first boyfriend, whose skin carried this exact scent, restless and powerful. Theyd sprawled out under the fractured light of English constellations, sharing clandestine kisses while Oliver whispered that nothing could ever draw them apart, that hed always be at her side. In those moments, Elizabeth would have sacrificed even her hopes of Oxford just to remain tangled up in him.
But, as peculiar as dreams, fate ushered them into different worlds. Oliver went off to the Navy and was subsumed by coastal postings and, eventually, by another life with a new love. Elizabeths heart cracked in two, and for a decade she remained adrift, refusing even now to let go of the love shed once been promised.
Roused from reverie, Elizabeth glanced properly at the man next to her for the first time. What a remarkable twist a shock zipped through her as she took in his tall frame, thick brown hair, blue eyes, the gentle arch of his nose and a mouth that forever looked as though on the cusp of a grin. He bore such a striking resemblance to Oliver that Elizabeths heart spluttered with disbelief.
Excuse me, but is your name Oliver, by any odd chance? she ventured, uneasy but expectant.
He turned and grinned wide enough to reach both ears. No, Im Simon, he replied, warmth flooding his features, and something in the cadence of his voice made her shiver. He seemed an echo of the man whose silhouette hung at the edge of her dreams.
Whats yours, if you dont mind me asking?
Elizabeth, she managed after a pause, finding her voice uncertain but steady. Pleased to meet you.
Likewise, he beamed, You know, its uncanny… you remind me so much of someone I used to know. My first love, actually. We ended things well, not exactly gracefully. She moved on, found someone else, and still, ten years on, I cant shake her from my mind. Then there you are, suddenly, out of nowhere. Feels unreal.
Elizabeth stared at him in astonishment. Thats wild. The very same thing happened to me. Youre the spit of my first love, whom I havent really managed to forget all these years. Could things like this really happen?
Simon nodded, his cheeks tinged pink, as if the bus itself pulsed with their memories. Fate has a peculiar sense of humour, doesnt it? Tell you what shall we swap numbers, see where this all leads?
Lets, she agreed, marvelling at how the world could fold over itself so unexpectedly.
They began to chatter quietly as the bus hummed towards Somerset, the miles passing by beneath rain-slicked streets. Where would their story veer next? Perhaps fate, with its dreamlike illogic, had decided to offer them another beginning with different names, yet hearts just as earnest. In dreams, after all, nothing is ever truly a coincidence.
