**Forgive Me If You Can, Love**
Squeezing into the packed bus, Lily plopped onto the first free seat before anyone else could claim it. Her day had started badly—her hairdryer broke, her husband grumbled about burnt eggs, and she’d rushed out hungry, sprinting to work.
Normally, she’d ride with her husband—it was on his way—but this week, the car was in the shop. The journey was long, so she turned to the window, watching streets and strangers blur past.
Something unsettled her. Then she felt it—a stare boring into her. She turned and locked eyes with familiar grey ones. *Rob*. Her first love, and her first heartbreak. He grinned.
“Hello,” he said. They weren’t quite side by side, just across the narrow aisle. “Recognised you straight away. You haven’t changed.”
“Hello,” she replied. “Well, this is a surprise.”
“How’ve you been?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said. “You?”
Secretly, she hoped he’d say his life was a mess—that his wife left him, or something equally tragic. Instead:
“Brilliant, actually. Wife’s at work, son just graduated and is off to Spain for a holiday.” He glanced out the window, then jumped up. “Blimey—my stop!” He vanished onto the pavement with a wave, and the bus lurched forward.
Lily sat there, replaying his words. *Haven’t changed?* Hardly. At twenty, she’d been slender; now she was comfortably rounded, though not disastrously so. Still, the compliment warmed her.
Her heart raced. How often had she fantasised about this moment? In her head, she was glamorous and successful, him pitiful and balding. Yet there he was—still solid, still with *that* smile, not wretched at all.
“Of *course* today’s the day I run into him,” she muttered.
The bus rolled on, her thoughts tumbling. Why now? Why stir up old feelings? Memories rushed back—picnics, wildflowers, his terrible poetry (which she’d adored), promises whispered in the dark.
Work dragged. Distracted, she muddled through tasks.
“Who knew seeing Rob would knock me sideways?” she mused on the way home.
Her husband, Jack, rang as she walked in. “Love, I’m fetching the car from the garage, then stopping by the shed. Eat without me.”
No appetite. She flopped onto the sofa, telly on but unseeing. Her mind rewound to their breakup—stupid, really. A squabble, then spotting him with another girl arm-in-arm.
Rob had been introduced by *Vera*, her then-best mate and neighbour. Vera fancied herself a love guru, doling out awful advice.
“Lil, *pick* a fight, then make up. He’ll love you more after!” So Lily did—again and again—until she realised: *Why am I listening to Vera?*
She stopped. Vera sulked, then warned, “Don’t come crying when it backfires.”
Time passed. On Lily’s birthday, Rob didn’t show. Vera arrived instead.
“Happy birthday! Rob’s not coming. His gran’s poorly—he’s gone to help. No idea when he’s back.”
No mobiles then. No way to check.
A week later, walking past the pub, she saw Rob with his mates. He looked right through her. The laughter stung. She ran home sobbing.
“Why? *Why?*” Pride stopped her confronting him. Later, she’d regret it.
Vera reappeared. “Still moping? He’s moved on. *You* should too.”
Spring came. Lily rounded a corner—and froze. A wedding crowd. There *he* was, beaming beside his bride.
“Hello,” he tossed carelessly as they passed.
Her heart cracked. At home, she wept—then swore never again.
She left town. Built a new life. Married Jack—steady, kind. Two sons. Content.
Years later, visiting her mum, she bumped into Vera—older, wearier.
“Lily! You look *radiant*.” Vera sighed. “Listen… I need to apologise. I lied to Rob—told him you were two-timing him. I set him up with his wife too. I was *jealous*.”
Lily stared. “*Why?*”
“Because you had what I didn’t.” Vera’s voice wavered. “Breaking your heart broke mine too, in the end.”
Lily didn’t forgive her then.
But today, seeing Rob, something clicked. Maybe it was meant to happen. She had a good life. A loving family. Who knew if she’d have been happier with Rob?
Sometimes, the past visits just to remind you: things worked out exactly as they should.
