Between the Truth and a Dream
Veronica wrapped herself in her fluffy tartan throw, basking in the rare serenity of her own living room. Through the window, snowflakes drifted lazily, settling on the sill as if the whole world had been caught in an interminable British winter waltz. Shed only just got back from her wedding dress fittinga moment she’d been anticipating with nervous energy and giddy delight. The bag in her hand brimmed with delicate earrings, a dainty hairband, and a collection of other sparkly trinkets, each one essential for the grand unveiling of her bridal look. Her mind swirled with scenes from the upcoming celebrationshe pictured herself in the dress, how the lights would bounce off her jewellery, and exactly how many awe-struck looks she could expect from the guests.
Peace, naturally, didnt last. The chime of the doorbell pierced the calm, causing Veronica to jolt and squeeze the edge of her blanket in her frigid, manicured fingers. She glanced at the clockten to seven. Who on earth would turn up at this hour? A forgotten parcel delivery? Mrs Jenkins from next door with another emergency involving her cats?
She tiptoed over to the door and peered through the spyhole. The person outside was impossible to make outjust the silhouette of a tall man, faceless against the porch light. No inclination to open the door whatsoever.
Who is it? she called out, keeping her voice casual, or at least attempting to.
Its me, Victor, replied a muffled but unmistakably familiar voice. We need to talk. It’s urgent.
Veronica hesitated. Not exactly at the top of her wish-list, a heart-to-heart with Victor. Unless something happened to Emily? Begrudgingly, she undid the chain and opened the door a crack. Victorsnow-speckled, slightly wild-eyed, looking like hed walked straight through a blizzard and a midlife crisisstood on the threshold. He was pale, and there was a flicker of wildness in his eyes shed never witnessed before, and instantly regretted not pretending she was out.
Come in then, she sighed, shifting aside, pretending the mounting anxiety in her chest was just a hiccup. Slamming the door in his face would be wildly un-British. Youre soaked, by the way.
Victor stomped into the lounge, making absolutely zero attempt to take off his shoes. The snowy footprints (now muddy smears) traced a path across her sparkling parquet floor, a detail wasted on him apparently, as he just stood staring into the middle distance like a man who’s accidentally swallowed an entire existential crisis for tea. Veronica observed him, worry balloons inflating in her chest, as the atmosphere thickened into something between a four-day-old sandwich and a courtroom drama.
Veronica, he blurted, clutching his gloves as if they were a lifeline, I cant keep it in anymore. I love you!
You could have heard a pin drop, even if it landed on a particularly thick bit of shag carpet.
Victor, you she began, but her voice wobbled, and her half-sentence floated off into the ether.
Before she could muster a comeback, he moved forward, evidently convinced that life is just a string of romantic comedies and this was his big scene.
I know youre getting married. I know its insane! But I cant keep this bottled up any longer! For months, I tried to move on, I really did butoh, who am I kidding? I even started seeing Emily just for a chance to be near you! I never cared for her, not really!
Veronica felt the chill of Buckingham Palace settle in her gut. What was thissome sort of confessional therapy hour? All this time, he’d been stringing along poor Emily, who, last she checked, was properly head over heels.
She let her blanket slip onto a nearby chair, as if doing so might snap her out of the surreal soap opera shed apparently wandered into. The air in the room suddenly felt far too crowded.
Victor she tried again, turning her words over with tweezers, do you even hear yourself? Im engaged! I love my fiancé! Im planning my wedding; lists and floral arrangements and everything. Not to mention Emily
He nodded with almost Shakespearean tragedy, the pain in his eyes juxtaposed by that grim determination of a man whos just set fire to his own lifeboat.
I know. But staying quiet now would wreck me for life! In two weeks, youll be out of reach forever! He hesitated, sucked in a breath. I know its not the right time, not the right place, but if I kept quiet, Id regret it until I popped me clogs. And Emily means nothing to meshes no one!
Her insides contracted like someone had politely suggested a Brexit round two. Even her voice sounded foreign:
How can you even say that?
Its true! Victors tone was stubborn now. Emily was just a way to be close to you. I thought maybe, just maybe, youd notice how caring I am, how generous, how downright brilliant. I thought you’d see we were meant to be! And now Now I know my life without you is pointless.
He went down on one kneenot on her freshly waxed floor, surelywith trembling hands produced a small ring, silver, unobtrusive save for a subtle pattern and a gleaming stone.
Leave him. Forget your wedding. Be with me. I swear, Ill make you happy.
Veronica stared, aghast. Flashes of memories careened through her head: Victor laughing with Emily at a house party; Victor taking her hand, looking at her with an almost childlike adorationin those moments she was happy for her friend, truly. What, the whole thing was a charade? Her illusions tumbled like a dropped mince pie.
Get up, she said softly, so quiet it was almost lost under the ticking of the wall clock. Please, get up.
He stood, hope flickering in his eyesbut not for long.
You dont believe me? His voice was ragged, desperate.
I do, she replied, quietly but firmly. I believe youre telling the truth. But it doesnt change anything.
She took a step back, creating a chasm of air and chairs between them. It wasnt easy, but she knewthere was no other way but through the awkward.
Youre my friend, Victor. But I love someone else. Im marrying him. Hes my future; end of. I cant imagine anything else.
He closed his fist around the ring so hard his knuckles went white. What if Id told you all this earlierbefore him?
She paused, considered, then replied gently.
It wouldnt have changed a thing. Sorry, youre simply not my type. Lovely bloke, but the connection not there.
He shuffled nearer. Oh, for the nerve.
Why not? He was dogged, and now just a bit intimidating. You cant tell me you dont feel something. Ive seen how you look at me.
Veronica shifted nearer the door, already running through escape scenarios in her mind. If she gave him a gentle push, maybe he’d topple onto the sofa…
Theres nothing between us, Victor. What youre feeling isnt love; its an obsession youve invented. You put me on a pedestal, turned me into an unattainable goal, andwell, here we are. This conversation has to end. Please leave it be.
Victor clenched his fistsnot in anger, just in utter defeat. He scanned her face for any smidgeon of hope. Youre wrong, he said quietly, Ive never cared for anyone like I care for you. Its real love, not some story I made up!
Veronica chewed her lip, focused and as calm as she could muster. Yelling at him would be about as helpful as putting out a house fire with a garden hose.
And what about Emily? She locked eyes with him, searching for a hint of guilt. Do you realise how much you’ve hurt her? You used her, Victor. And now you expect me to drop everything for you?
I know Ive been ghastly, he said, staring at the floor. But even if I could do it all again, I probably wouldnt change a thing.
You cant build happiness on the ruins of someone elses, she said, sneaking glances at her phonejust in case. And you dont love me, not really. You barely even know me.
She let that hang in the air. Then, gently: You need to tell Emily the truth. Apologise. She deserves that much.
Victor froze, his fingers trembling as he tried to compose himself.
But why? I told youshe irritates me. You, on the other hand
He looked at her, pain obvious, and for a moment, Veronica almost felt sorry for him. But she stuffed down the twinge of pity. That would only make things messier.
Its never going to happenfor me or for Emily. And you dont really think Id keep this quiet, do you?
He stared at her, equally wounded and sullen. Finally, he said,
Ill go. But Im not giving up. Ill wait until you see we belong together.
No need, said Veronica, shaken. Was that a latent threat? Seriously. Move on. Find someone real, who you love for who they are, not who you wish they were. And now, if you dont mind
Victor made his way out, every shuffle betraying the furiously resigned battle inside. He stopped at the door and turned around.
Thanks for being honest, he said simply. But Im not really saying goodbye.
He was gone, the door clicking shut just quietly enough to be polite but not quite closing out the weirdness. Veronica was left staring at the wood, feeling as if a previously unnoticed pressure was slowly ebbing away. She wandered to the window, watched as Victor trudged off into the snow, his shoulders hunched, hands in pockets, looking for all the world like the very last penguin in a wildlife documentary.
She watched until he turned the corner, then braced herself for the next part. What if he went straight to Emilyor worse, what if he lied to cover his tracks? That would not do.
She found Emily in her contacts and pressed call. Her heart thudded a bit too fast, but when she spoke, she sounded almost pragmatic:
Emily, hi. Listen, we need to chat. It’s important.
There was a sound at the other end, as if Emily was shuffling papers but trying to pretend her afternoon wasnt actually falling apart.
Everything alright? You sound tense. What’s happened?
Veronica took a deep breath. Victor just came round. He told me he only started seeing you because of me. He neverhe never actually cared for you, just wanted to get closer to me.
A long silence ebbed down the line. Veronica pictured Emily sitting somewhere, phone gripped tight, a thousand ideas all vying for space. The quiet lasted so long that Veronica nearly started speaking again, before Emilys voice cracked in:
What does that He really said that? How could
Look, Im sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Veronica rushed, nerves fraying her words. But youre my mate, and you deserve the truth. He said hes in love with me, wants me to leave my fiancé. To be honest, I was unnerved being in the same room as him.
Another silence. Finally, Emily exhaled in that way only someone who’s recalibrating their entire life can.
Right. Well, thanks for telling me. What shall I do now?
I wish I knew, Veronica said, honest as ever. Victor might come to see you next. I was worried for you, being on your own.
Dont worry, Emily replied after a pause, sounding brittle but a touch steadier. Thank you for being straight with me.
Sorry you had to find out like this, Veronica said sincerely.
Its better to know the truth, Emily replied, bracing herself.
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Alone in her quiet house once more, Veronica gazed at the snowflakes dancing by the streetlamp, hoping beyond hope that the mess would sort itself out, and that, eventually, everyone would find their way.
Veronica imagined what Emily must have been feelingthat shock of betrayal, sifting through old memories now tinged with disappointment. But she believed, honestly, that bitter truth was always better than a sweet lieparticularly one that would, inevitably, bloom into calamity.
Meanwhile, Emily was sat at the kitchen table, replaying every conversation, every romantic gesture, each reminiscence now flickering with doubt. Victor had seemed caring and attentiveoffering her his coat, shepherding her across puddles, making her laugh at pub quizzes. But it was all a façade. Her cup of tea had gone cold, untouched since the phone call. The old grandfather clock ticked away as though to say, Chin up, time for the next thing.
She tried to decide what to do. Call him? Wait? Ring Veronica and make her pop round for tea and moral support? None of it felt right. What she needed was time, and maybe a nineties rom-com.
Then, a knock at the door made her nearly spill her (now stone-cold) Earl Grey. Heart in her throat, Emily peeked out. Victor, now looking like he’d just starred in the BBC’s latest drama on ‘Consequences,’ stood theresnow-damp, white as a ghost, with haunted eyes.
She opened the door and braced herself. No way he could surprise her now.
Emily, he started. Theres something I need to
Save it, she cut in, sharp but not unkind. Veronica already told me. Dont bother with a speech.
Victor paused, obviously deflated, hands jammed awkwardly into the pockets of his damp coat. So she called you Id hoped Id get to you before anyone had a chance to twist things.
Emily folded her arms, summoning every ounce of dignity shed learned from her gran. Did you come here to explain, to say sorry, or to add insult to injury?
He moved as if to step toward her; she retreated. No, I came to apologise. For everything. For lying, for using you. I know Ive hurt you.
He hesitated, grappling for words that wouldnt just pour salt into the wound.
I know nothing I say is enough. But I had to say this I am sorry.
Emily, numb, wondered what she was supposed to feel. Anger? Heartbreak? Nojust contempt for someone whod turned affection into a board game.
You could have told me ages ago, she murmured. But you didnt. You waited until after youd pitched your woo at Veronica. Is that remorse, or just damage control?
Victor grimaced and attempted a kind of sheepish smile, but it faltered.
I just realised this was my last chanceVeronicas about to get married. I didnt I didnt think it through.
With a flourish, he produced the infamous ring box and pushed it towards her.
Take it, he mumbled, voice faint. For what its worth.
Emily looked at the ringdelicate, golden, with a modest diamond. For her? No, that was wishful thinking. A memento from the Great British Mistake.
Keep it, she replied, flat as a pancake. I want nothing.
Victors hand sagged; the tiny box now felt like a cinder block.
Emily, please
She looked him up and down. Theres nothing left to fix. Theres no trust. Even if you really are sorry, it makes no odds.
He hovered in the hallway, unsure whether to disappear or plead his case again.
I need time, and a breakfrom you, from all of this. Please dont try to see me. Let it go.
Victor nodded, tucking the ring back in his pocket. I get it. Im sorry, he muttered, backing out the door.
Hed barely made it to the entryway when the bell rang again.
Emily checked. This time, to her surprise, it was AlexanderVeronicas fiancé. Tall, smart suit, perfectly styled hair, with that no-nonsense look that made him seem as if he moonlighted as a detective.
He stepped inside at her nod, immediately clocking Victor in the hallway, who looked ready to melt into the wallpaper.
I know whats happened, Alexander said, his voice calm, but with that underlying current that suggested hed only just stopped himself from bringing a cricket bat. I know how you treated them, both of them.
Victor looked like he wanted to retort, but Alexander raised a hand. Dont. Ive heard enough. Veronica told me everything. And Ive decided that words are, sometimes, a complete waste of time.
He advanced, no drama, no threatssomeone whod clearly seen enough of life to be done with it.
Alec, dont Emily pleaded softlynot because she pitied Victor (though, perhaps, a bit)but because she hated drama and didnt want the neighbours peering out in their pyjamas.
But Alexander didnt flinch. Stay out of it, Emily. He deserves to hear this.
Victor pressed himself to the wall like a disobedient schoolboy being sent to the headmaster. It was finally dawning on him, apparently, that reality packs a punch (sometimes literally).
You think a sorry is enough? Alexanders tone went icy. You cheated two people. Dont expect sympathy.
He closed the gap, and before Emily could intervene, delivered a single, sharp jab. Victor clutched his jaw, crimson seeping between his fingers, astonished more than pained.
Thats just the beginning, Alexander intoned, voice steadier than the Houses of Parliament. Come anywhere near Veronica or Emily again and it wont be so polite. Understood?
Victor, crushed in spirit, got up, wordlessly dusting off his coat. He glanced at Emily, hoping for a flicker of warmth; he got nothing but faint, distant disappointment.
He left, shutting the door softly. The flat filled with quiet and a trace of wintry air.
Alexander, now visibly calmer, smiled apologetically. Sorry for that. I know sorting things with your fists isnt the done thing, but sometimes
Emily managed a weak chuckle. I think you did what you came to do. Thank you.
He softened a little more. Youll get past this, you know.
I will eventually. Thanks again.
He nodded. Veronicas worried sick about youshe nearly bolted round herself, but I said Id handle it.
Shes a good friend, Emily replied, grateful. And youre not so bad yourself, she thought but didnt say.
Emily finally sat on her sofa, a strange peace settling in. It was finished. Through the pain, she felt the relief of something new about to begin.
Meanwhile, Victor trudged through the snowy lanes of Manchester, numb both from cold and a thumping jaw. He couldnt feel his face, but the ache inside was far more acute. For the first time, he realised, really realised, hed lost everythingEmily for good, Veronica ages ago, and all because hed chosen elaborate fantasy over honesty.
The next day, Victor showed up at work, mouth bruised, soul battered. His colleagues peered round computer screens, but British decorum won and no one asked. He got through the week, then handed in his transfer requestanother city, another beginning.
Before he left, he returned the engagement ring, sliding it across the counter at the jewellers. The sales assistant, ever-polite, said nothing. Victor used the money to wire Emily a sum with a note: Sorry. Its yours by right. No explanations, no drama. Just closure.
On the morning of his departure, he watched the cabs headlights approach, took one last look at the block of flatsonce, it had been home, now just a building. He muttered, Well, youve made a right mess of it this time, and climbed in. The driver, sensing the mood, kept the radio low as the snow veiled the familiar streets, erasing the past as they went.
Somewhile later, in a cheerful café, Emily shared a table with Veronica and Alexander. Three mugs of hot chocolate steamed between them. They talked easily about the futureVeronica bubbling with gentle excitement over the wedding arrangements, Alexander providing calm, soothing interjections, and Emily, softer, letting their optimism warm her.
You know, Emily said with a small smile, watching the flakes swirl beyond the windowpane, Im not angry anymore. Its just sad, the way things turned out.
Veronica squeezed her friends hand, reassuring.
Youve nothing to regret, she declared. You deserve the real thingno plot twists.
Emily nodded, and for the first time in days, believed it.
I will find it, she said, her voice quiet but certain. Honestly, I will.
Snow floated down outside, covering the pavements and softening the edges of an old story. Inside, warm light, mellow laughter, and the knowledge that lifeever Englishmoves endlessly onwards, ready for the next cup of tea, the next joke, and, one day, another round at love.
