**The Wished-for Wish**
Theyve just moved into a flat nearly in the heart of London.
“Like it?” he asked, barely able to contain his excitement as he swung the door open.
The flat was spacious, absolutely stunning.
“Blimey,” she gasped, “this is incrediblejust look at that view!” She glanced out the window, then back at him. “But this must cost a fortune?”
“Oddly enough, no,” he shrugged. “An old chap rented it to me. Said he lives out in the countryside now, in an old cottage.”
“Honestly, who cares?” She grinned, her warm brown eyes sparkling. “I love it here.”
He left early the next morning, and after her coffee, she decided to meet up with her girlfriends.
Once he was gone, though, the flat felt strangely unwelcomingtoo new, too empty. A couple of times, she swore someone was standing behind her, but she shrugged it off.
Snapping a few selfies in front of the vintage paintings and antiques, she dressed and headed out.
Her friends gushed over the photos, chatting nonstop.
“That chandelier is unreal! Gorgeous!”
“And those paintingswait, whos that?” One of them squinted. “Look, theres someone behind you.”
She checked the photo. Sure enough, a faint outline of an elderly woman seemed to linger just behind her.
“What on earth?” Her friends exchanged glances.
“Stop it, its just a shadow,” she laughed, forcing calm. But unease settled in her chest, reminding her of the mornings creeping dread.
The week flew by in a blur. They strolled through the city centre, along the Thames, buying ice cream before walking back home. She was growing used to the place.
Rain kept them indoors that weekend. They ordered pizza, curled up on the sofa, and watched old films. He dozed off first, and soon she drifted asleep beside him.
A thunderclap jolted her awake. Lightning flashed, illuminating the roomand the old woman standing before her.
Her husband slept soundly. She froze, too terrified to speak.
“So, young lady,” the woman murmured, not waiting for an answer, “have you made a wish in your new home yet?”
“N-no,” she stammered, pressing into the sofa.
*What wish?* Her thoughts raced. *We have everythinga good income, even a studio we rent out. Only the baby* Theyd tried IVF, but nothing yet.
Another thunderclap. The lightning flared againbut the woman was gone.
She didnt remember falling back asleep.
Morning brought clear skies and sunshine. Only the raindrops clinging to the windows hinted at the nights storm.
“Slept like a log,” he said, frothing milk in the coffee machine. “You?”
“Me too,” she smiled.
Last night already felt like a dream.
“By the way,” he added, “still liking the flat? Ive really settled in.”
“Dont even askI love it. Feels like home now.”
A few years back, after another failed IVF, their therapist had suggested rentingfor a fresh start. This was their third place.
Months passed. New Years Eve approached.
On the 31st, her husband mentioned the landlord would stop by that evening for the next six months rent.
“Bit odd, isnt it?” she frowned. “New Years Eve?”
“Eh, hes an old bloke. Harmless.”
The old man arrived with a cakeher favourite, no less. They put the kettle on.
Over tea, as snow piled outside, she surprised herself by saying, “Why dont you stay and celebrate with us? No point trudging home in this weather. Beats just the two of uswell, nearly three.” She beamed, correcting herself.
Midnight struck. Fireworks burst outside, their colours dancing in the mirror.
Then, deep in the glass, the old woman appeared again. She smiled faintly, gave a little wave, and vanished in the shimmering light.
Before she could think, she found herself smiling back.
She never saw the woman again.
**P.S.**
Years later, strolling through Notting Hill, I bumped into an old acquaintance.
“Remember that couple who rented the flat near here?” I asked. “Howd they turn out?”
“Funny you ask,” he chuckled. “Still there. But heres the twistthe old landlord lives with them now. Ancient fellow, but he dotes on their little boy like a grandfather. Lost his wife years back, never had kids of his own.”
Strange how things work out.
