Autumn leaves tumbled across the pavement, tossed by the wind before settling softly on the ground. Oliver walked home from his parents’ house—he’d left his car in their driveway after sharing a drink with his father, who had just returned from a health retreat.
“Next time, love, you’ll come with me,” his father had said to his mother. “It gets a bit dull on your own.”
Oliver winked at his mother. “Plenty of single women at those places, Dad. You could’ve had some fun.”
His father chuckled, glancing at his wife. “They were all older than me and unwell. Besides, why would I trade your mother for anyone?”
Oliver had stayed longer than planned. His parents lived just a short walk from the flat he shared with his girlfriend, Emily. They’d never warmed to her, though they were polite enough. His mother had been blunt from the start:
“Oliver, she’s not the one. Trust me—she isn’t wife material.”
“Mum, you’ve only met her once!”
“Shall we see, then? Just don’t rush into marriage.”
That morning, before leaving for work, Oliver had mentioned he’d visit his parents after his shift. His father was back, after all.
“Fancy joining me, Em? Swing by theirs after your day off?”
“Can’t, Olly. I promised Sophie I’d visit—she’s off sick. And I’ve got a manicure booked, been waiting ages.”
He knew she wouldn’t come. Still, he asked—just in case.
“Fair enough. Might be late—Dad’ll pour me a whiskey to celebrate his return.”
“Take your time,” she replied. “Sophie and I’ll chat.”
“Ring me when you’re heading home. Don’t wander alone in the dark.”
Evening settled early in autumn, the streetlamps barely holding back the gloom. Oliver didn’t call—she’d likely be home. He walked in good spirits, warmed by a drink and his parents’ company.
But when he opened the door, laughter spilled from the bedroom. Peering in, he saw his best friend hastily dressing while Emily urged, “Hurry up, Mark. Oliver could be back any minute.” Then she spotted him in the doorway.
His feet carried him outside before he could think.
*Emily and Mark.* The thought turned his stomach. He walked blindly, no destination in mind. At the bridge, he paused. Cars flashed past, headlights blinding. Below, the river lay dark.
A hand touched his sleeve. He turned to see an elderly man—spectacles, a neat beard, a voice like rustling paper.
“Young man, you wouldn’t be thinking anything grim, I hope?” He nodded toward the water.
Oliver startled. “No—no, of course not.”
“Good.” The man smiled. “Which way are you headed?”
“Nowhere, really.”
“Then walk me across? I live past the park.”
Oliver agreed. The man introduced himself as Arthur Whitmore, a retired economics professor.
They crossed the bridge—not long, the river not wide. Arthur spoke of his granddaughter, Lucy, and her little boy, Alfie. His voice was steady, calming.
“Something’s wrong,” Arthur observed. “Need a place tonight? We’ve room.”
Oliver hesitated. “It’s late. And the boy…”
“Alfie’s asleep by nine. Come on.”
Arthur’s flat was quiet. The kitchen smelled of tea. Alfie, woken by voices, padded in—round-cheeked, curious.
“You’re Oliver,” Arthur said. “This is Alfie.”
“I’m Alfie,” the boy announced, offering a hand.
Lucy appeared then, soft-spoken, pink-cheeked. They drank tea, talked. Alfie begged to stay, bringing toys until Lucy finally coaxed him to bed.
“He likes you,” Arthur remarked. “Doesn’t warm to just anyone.”
Oliver left for work the next morning. That evening, he collected his car from his parents’, then returned to his flat. Emily’s things were still there.
She burst in later, frantic. “Oliver, where were you?”
“Packing your things would’ve been polite.” His voice was flat.
“Mark started it—”
“Spare me.” He took her key. “Be gone by the time I’m back.”
At a toy shop, he bought a model car in a big box, then drove to Arthur’s. Lucy answered, cheeks flushed. Alfie barrelled into him.
On the floor, they raced cars. Lucy watched from the doorway. Arthur stroked his beard, smiling.
Dinner followed—Lucy serving, Alfie clinging to Oliver’s side.
A year later, Oliver stood outside the hospital, holding Lucy’s hand. Arthur and Alfie waited as they brought home their newborn daughter, Rose.
That chance meeting on the bridge had changed everything.
