Cozying up on the sofa in the café, she waited for her order, enjoying her favourite cappuccino and an éclair before the workday began.
Laura settled comfortably into the café booth, waiting for her usual. She often came here to treat herself to a cappuccino and a pastry to brighten her mood before heading to the office. Outside, snowflakes were drifting past the window. She took a slow sip of her hot coffee, savouring the warmth. At the table across from her, two girls were chattingclearly good friends.
“Listen, I ran into my exs new girlfriend the other day. Honestly, shes not much to look at. What does he even see in her?”
“Maybe she makes a killer roast dinner? Or perhaps shes brilliant in bed?” her friend giggled.
“Oh, come off it! Just look at her Facebook photosshes hardly a stunner.”
They burst into laughter, but Laura froze. The words took her back to when she was seven, overhearing her mum talking to her dad: “Our Lauras no beauty, bless her, but she makes up for it with hard work.”
Grown-up Laura took meticulous care of her appearance. Yet no matter how much she tried, she never felt quite pretty enough. Her mum used to say, “Hold your head high, love. If not with beauty, then with brains. Study, work harddont end up alone.”
At school, she was self-conscious about her plain looks and boyish figure. By uni, shed learned to dress stylishly and wear makeup. She even had a boyfriend for a while. But hed still crack jokes about her “flat bum” or her “big feet.” Laura realised that even if she were clever, love might still be hard to come by. She accepted it and carried on.
After finishing her coffee and cake, she hurried off to work. At lunch, she had to pop round to her friends to feed the cat and water the plants. Emma had jetted off to Ibiza for a couple of weeks, and her husband was rarely home. “If he bumps into Laura, he probably wont even look at her,” Emma had thought before leaving with a carefree wave.
Arriving at her friends flat, Laura first filled the bowl for the dozing tabby, Whiskers, then turned her attention to the flowers. Music played softly from the next room. Recognising the tune, she started humming along”Dancing in the Moonlight”and suddenly, the whole flat felt lighter. In that song, surrounded by blooms, she felt weightless, almost floating. Without realising, she began swaying, twirling between the plants, lost in the moment.
Thenvoices.
She spun around to see two men in the doorway. Daniel! Emmas husband. And someone else. Both looked stunned. “How embarrassing!” she thought, cheeks burning.
“Laura, hey. This is my mate, Chris. Just popped in to grab some papers. You were dancing so beautifullywe couldnt look away. Sorry if we startled you.”
“IEmma asked me to”
Flustered, Laura rushed towards the door but tripped over Whiskers, crashing hard onto the floor. She saw stars, then darkness.
She woke in a hospital bed.
“Hello there. Howre you feeling? Im Sophie, your neighbour. Just a mild concussion, but the doc says youll be fine. A courier dropped by, and a bloke brought flowers for you,” the woman said kindly.
“Thanks,” Laura murmured.
She eased herself up, reached for the bag by the window, and found fruit, juice, and her favourite éclairsmustve been from Emma and Daniel. Then she spotted the bouquet and a note:
“Laura, get well soon. A lovely girl like you doesnt belong in a hospital bed. Fancy the Chelsea Flower Show with me? No take-backs. Chris.”
Laura buried her face in the white chrysanthemums, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt, then flung her arms around Sophie in a happy hug
Beauty doesnt have to shout. Sometimes its quiet, warmglowing from within. Every girl has her own.
