After the Honeymoon — A Bitter Truth and a Fresh Start
Lucy and James have just returned from their honeymoon in sunny Malta. She settles onto the sofa and calls out toward the bathroom:
“What film are we watching?”
“Don’t know—you pick!” her husband shouts back.
Lucy opens his laptop and glances absently at the unpacked suitcases in the hallway. “I’ll sort them tomorrow,” she mutters, looking away—just as a notification sound chimes. A message pops up on the screen. She clicks it—and freezes.
“Miss you, babe,” reads a text from an unfamiliar woman named Megan.
“Don’t be sad, I’ll be back soon,” James had replied.
The date? August 8—the day before they flew home. Lucy opens the chat, holding her breath as she reads: “Megan, last night was magical…” “Are you coming over today?” “Yes, sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much…”
She slams the laptop shut. A moment later, James walks in, towelling his hair.
“So, picked a film? How about a comedy?”
“Oh, absolutely—a comedy’s about to start,” Lucy says icily. “Who’s Megan?”
He pales. “Wh-what Megan? I don’t know any Megan!”
“Really? Then take a look!” She hurls the laptop onto his lap. “We’ve barely been back from the honeymoon, and you’ve already been seeing someone else?”
“Wait—it didn’t mean anything! It was the office party, I had too much to drink, she came onto me… It was a mistake! I love you!”
“A mistake? Marrying you was the mistake!” Lucy storms out of the flat, slamming the door behind her.
In the cab, she stares blankly out the window, tears streaking her cheeks. “Is this really happening to me?”
Outside her parents’ house, her mum rushes to meet her.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
“I’m filing for divorce. I won’t stay married to a cheater!”
“Shh, love… come inside, let’s talk. Calm down.”
A week passes. Her mum pleads with her to stay.
“Why rent a place? Stay with us as long as you need.”
“Mum, I’m thirty. I need my own space.”
Two days of flat-hunting later, she files for divorce. James still tries—calling, sending flowers—but she ignores him.
A month on, Lucy’s settled into her new flat. No tears for weeks. She throws herself into work to avoid thinking. But weekends are hard—loneliness crashes over her like a wave.
One evening, she mindlessly flips through TV channels, spooning ice cream, lost in apathy. Then—a sudden decision.
“Enough moping,” she tells herself and steps outside.
The park is warm and quiet. Lamplight, tree shadows, couples tangled in each other… Soon, dusk falls. Lucy turns back—only to realise she’s lost.
Footsteps sound behind her. She quickens her pace.
“Excuse me—” a voice calls.
She breaks into a run but trips. Strong hands catch her before she hits the ground.
“You alright? Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Alex.”
He steps back, pats his empty pockets. “Live just round the corner. Saw you circling the paths…”
Lucy’s still tense, but his warm voice and easy smile soften something inside her.
“I just can’t find the exit,” she admits, flustered.
“Mind if I walk you out?”
The stroll flies by. Alex jokes, tells stories, and she laughs… At her doorstep, they hesitate.
“Goodnight, Lucy.”
“Goodnight, Alex,” she murmurs, oddly wistful.
“Want me to wait till you’re inside? In case you get lost again,” he teases.
The next day, still replaying the encounter, Lucy heads out for coffee—and there, in the doorway of the next flat, stands Alex, holding two cups.
“Finally awake, sleepyhead? Been waiting all morning. Fancy coffee?”
“You? What are you doing here?”
“Living here. We’ve been neighbours for weeks. Seen you around, but never got the chance to say hi.”
She falters. He grins.
“So, coffee?”
“I’m not sure…”
“What if I’ve got biscuits?”
“Well… maybe.”
Her phone rings.
“Yes, Mum, no, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m staying here. I… like it here.”
For the first time in ages, Lucy feels warmth—real warmth—spreading through her.
