Another problem…
“Julie, please come with me,” Sima whined.
“I don’t want to. I don’t know anyone there. Go alone or invite Lizzie or Kate,” Julie replied. “We’ve got exams coming up, I need to study.”
“Kate’s cramming, Lizzie won’t go anywhere without her boyfriend Michael, and it’s awkward going alone—like I’m chasing after Daniel.”
“Aren’t you, though?” Julie asked.
“Julie, pleaaase…” Sima pressed her hands together like she was praying.
“Fine. But if you ditch me there, you’re dead,” Julie warned, getting up from the sofa.
One of the older students had parents working abroad in Africa for a year, so his flat was free. Every Saturday, they threw parties—mostly final-year students, but some from other years and even recent graduates showed up. They’d swap stories, looking down on the younger ones with their barely-there life experience.
Sima had stumbled into the crowd by accident after dating one of the older guys. They broke up, but she kept going—mostly because she’d set her sights on Daniel. That’s why she begged Julie to tag along tonight, hoping to bump into him again. With exams on, she wouldn’t see him at uni.
Julie threw on jeans and a loose white shirt, tucked in just at one side. On her slim frame, it looked effortlessly stylish. She lined her eyes, shook out her hair, and turned from the mirror to Sima, who was practically bouncing with impatience.
“What’re we waiting for?” Julie asked.
“Honestly, the eyeliner suits you. Makes you look all mysterious and exotic.”
“One condition—if Daniel’s not there, we leave,” Julie said.
“Deal,” Sima agreed way too quickly.
A young woman in jeans and an oversized men’s shirt opened the door, cigarette dangling from her lips, wild curls framing her face. She squinted through the smoke, eyeing them, then jerked her head toward the living room without a word. Inside, music played softly under the hum of chatter.
“Keep your shoes on—no one takes them off here,” Sima whispered as Julie reached for her heels. Sima acted like a regular, though her nerves were just as obvious. The living room held a table littered with half-eaten snacks and bottles of cheap wine and vodka. A guy lounged on the sofa between two girls, while two others argued nearby. A couple swayed near the window—if you could call it dancing in the cramped space. No one even glanced at them. And if they did, their eyes slid right off. First-years weren’t worth the effort.
The girls claimed a spare sofa against the wall. The door buzzed, and the woman from before walked in, two guys trailing behind. The room erupted—handshakes, backslaps, even the dancers broke off to greet them.
“There he is!” Sima shot up and beelined for them, striking up a chat with one. He barely spared her a glance, answering with bored indifference. The other guy, though—taller, athletic, unfairly handsome with sharp grey eyes—was staring right at Julie. She dropped her gaze, cheeks warming.
“Hey. Bored?” He slid onto the sofa beside her. Up close, he looked even older. “Haven’t seen you before. Wanna dance?” He held out a hand—broad, warm, steady.
They swayed near the window, music low enough to talk. He asked about her course, her halls, her family. More people trickled in, and Julie wondered if the flat had secret rooms she couldn’t see.
Eventually, Sima reappeared, visibly upset. “I’m leaving.”
“I should go too,” Julie said, reluctantly pulling away.
“I’ll walk you,” he offered. “Just let me say goodbye.”
Outside, Sima fumed. “Total jerk,” she muttered, glaring back at the building.
Julie barely heard her, thoughts tangled up in the stranger beside them. Then he stepped out, catching up easily.
“Alright, ladies. Name’s Chris.”
“Chris Carrington? Captain of the football team? No way—that’s where I’ve seen you!” Sima squealed.
“You follow football?” Chris raised a brow.
“Dated a superfan. Never missed a match.” Sima giggled. “This is insane—actual Chris Carrington!”
She latched onto him, chatting nonstop as they walked. Julie hung back, letting her take the lead.
“That’s my place,” Sima said, pointing. “Next one’s Julie’s. So… see you around?”
“Bye,” Julie murmured, heading for her door.
“Julie, wait!” Chris jogged after her.
Sima’s face fell.
The evening air was cool after the day’s heat. They lingered outside, talking. Chris worked at a local paper—dreamed of being a journalist, maybe TV one day. “Small start, but you’ll hear my name,” he said, grinning. “So, you’re gonna be a teacher? Always loved kids?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Julie bristled.
“Nothing. Just asking.” He held up his hands. “Give me your number.”
“You don’t have one?” She handed over her phone.
He dialed—his pocket rang. A thrill shot through her. He wanted to see her again.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” Sima called that night. “Quiet little Julie, snagging Chris Carrington? Spill—did you kiss?”
“We didn’t even walk anywhere. I came straight home. Got that last exam to prep for.” She left out the phone swap.
He called two days later—just as she’d given up hope. With exams done, summer was theirs. He took her paddle boating, then to a café.
They met almost daily. Julie fell hard. He had an old beaten-up car—they’d drive out of town, swim, wander.
One rainy day, he suggested his mate’s flat. She hesitated when he unlocked the door himself.
“Where’s your friend? You bring girls here often?” She stepped back.
“Just tea, chat. It’s pouring—where else would you go? Mate’s away, left me the keys,” he said, tugging her inside.
She stayed. She was in love. If something happened… well, it would’ve eventually. Why not now? The conversation stalled, but the rest didn’t. Chris was gentle, warm.
After that, they met there often. Then he left for a work trip—or so he said.
Sima dropped by on a dull, gloomy afternoon. “Missing him? Saw you two together. You know he’s married, right?”
“Shut up. You’re just jealous.” Julie flushed.
“Seriously. He’s got a kid.”
Julie didn’t believe her—until she pieced it together. Only day-time meets. Always out of town. Evenings “working.” Lies.
She sent a furious text—called him out, said she never wanted to see him again. Turned off her phone.
Then she realised. Pregnant. They’d been careful—except that first time.
What now? First year just finished. A baby? Her mum’s reaction? She hated Chris, hated herself for being so stupid.
The clinic was humiliating. The doctor’s judging stare. No free procedures—just a referral. Two days later, she was on the table, legs splayed, trembling. She hated Chris more than ever.
What if she couldn’t have kids later? Should she tell her mum? Back out? Panic swarmed her—then the nurse injected her. Everything blurred. She woke to chatter about children. They sent her home after two hours.
Her mum never knew. Just said she looked pale. Then term started. Julie missed Chris. She’d have forgiven him if he’d come back.
One lecture, nerdy Nate slid beside her. Short, awkward, thick glasses magnifying his eyes. Top of the class, but girls ignored him—Julie included.
“You seeing Chris Carrington?” he whispered.
“None of your business.”
“He’s got a wife. Kid’s barely one.”
“Why tell me this?”
“So you don’t waste hope. He’ll lie, string you along, then bail when it gets messy.” Nate leaned closer. “I like you. Didn’t you notice?”
She had. But Chris was… Chris. Love didn’t just vanish, even when it should.
One evening, Chris blocked her path outside her flat.
“Julie, talk to me. I’m sorry. I can’t live without you. I didn’t tell you because I was scared of losing you.”
His eyes were desperate. She wanted to touch him, confess everything. But the hurt remained. He’d left. Vanished.
“Yeah, I’m married. But it doesn’t matter. I love you—”
“Except it does matter. You’re not free.”
“Must everything be about marriage? Family’s just stress, problems. I didn’t want that between us.”
“Your wife’s a problem? So am I?” Her chest tightened.
If he hadn’If he hadn’t said those last words, she might’ve forgiven him—but now, as she turned away and walked inside, she knew love wasn’t meant to feel like this.
