“Hey. We never did go to the cinema that day, did we?” he blurted out, forgetting all the carefully prepared things he’d meant to say.
Daniel and Emily sat on the pier, dreaming about university, futures, buying a flat in London…
“I’ll get a proper sports car, the flashiest one. And we’ll make it work, no doubt about it,” Daniel said, tossing a pebble into the Thames.
“We’ll holiday in Cornwall or somewhere abroad,” Emily added brightly, watching the ripples fade in the water. Then, with a sigh: “But first, we’ve got to get into uni. I’m so sick of studying, though.”
“We will.” Daniel pulled Emily close, his arm around her shoulders.
It felt like no one had ever loved like this before, like nothing could ever tear them apart.
“Let’s go home—mum’ll be worrying. Plus, it’s freezing.” Emily stood from the bench and winced. Her new shoes had rubbed her feet raw. She kicked them off and walked barefoot across the cool stone of the pier.
“Fancy the cinema tomorrow? There’s a great film on,” Daniel asked as they wandered home, chatting about nothing and everything.
“See you tomorrow,” Emily said outside her house, rising on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before darting inside.
“So, should I get the tickets?” he called after her.
She didn’t answer, just flashed him a smile before the door shut.
The city was still asleep, but the short June night had ended—dawn was snuffing out the stars. This was the first morning of their grown-up lives.
Daniel slipped into the flat quietly, careful not to wake his mum, then collapsed into bed and fell asleep in seconds, happy, certain of tomorrow.
By afternoon, he was waiting below Emily’s window. She peered out, then rushed down.
“Got the tickets,” Daniel said, waving them.
“Sorry, Dan, I can’t. Mum’s sister turned up. She got married—moving to Berlin. Left us a flat in London. We’ve got to go with her tomorrow to sort it… I’m leaving.”
“When are you coming back?” he asked, not quite grasping it yet.
“Dunno. Applying to unis there.”
“What about me? What about us? We were supposed to—” His voice cracked.
“Dan, this doesn’t happen twice. Honestly, it’s not the moon—you can visit. Or—why not apply somewhere in London too?” Her eyes lit up. “Seriously, come with me!”
“And live where? What would your parents say? I don’t have a rich aunt handing me flats, and I’ve no money. What do I even tell my mum? She’s on her own—”
“We’d figure it out,” Emily said breezily.
“When are you leaving?” His voice was hollow now.
“Tomorrow morning. Still packing. It’s all so sudden… Dan, they won’t let me stay. If you love me, you’ll find a way.”
“And if you loved me—” He cut himself off, turned, and walked away.
She shouted after him, but he didn’t look back. He broke into a run, only slowing when she was long out of sight, feet dragging. His chest didn’t just ache—it felt like wolves were howling inside.
“Fine. Go then. I’ll be fine. I’ll make it without you. You’ll regret this,” he muttered all the way home.
He collapsed face-first onto his bed and didn’t move for two days. His mum nearly called an ambulance.
“You need to study, Daniel. If you lie here, you won’t get in—they’ll draft you. Then Emily really won’t come back. She’ll think you’re a failure.”
That snapped him out of it. He forced himself to revise, though all he saw was Emily. Between study sessions, he pounded the pull-up bar in the yard until his arms shook, trying to exhaust the thoughts of her. He’d achieve everything they’d dreamt of. Then he’d show up in London and— But first, uni.
He got in, to his mum’s relief. Waited every day for a letter from Emily. He’d have written, but he didn’t have her address. Too late, he cursed himself for storming off like a child, for not asking, for not even saying goodbye. He’d go now, but how would he find her in a city of millions? Even the neighbours couldn’t help—no forwarding address.
All through uni, he hoped she’d write or turn up. In his final year, recruiters came, offering jobs to graduates. Daniel applied to a new firm just outside London. Closer to Emily, just in case.
Mum approved, let him go. Six months later, he got a flat. A year after that, he married Lucy from accounting—cheeky, brown-eyed, always laughing. They named their daughter Emily.
“Ugh, that name’s so old-fashioned,” Lucy grumbled.
“It’s timeless. Classic. Em. Sounds perfect, yeah?” Daniel insisted.
Ten years on, he was deputy director. A big house, a fancy car—Mum helped, selling her flat to pitch in. She moved in, helped with little Em.
Work took him abroad often—contracts in China, Italy, Germany. He learned the languages, shed the provincial kid for a sharp, confident executive.
Then, one night, he dreamed of Emily. She stood on the pier, the Thames rushing behind her. “We never did go to the cinema,” she said sadly.
Over time, she’d faded—just quick, distant flashes of memory. But after that dream, she haunted him. Where was she? Married, probably. He refused to dwell on that. He just wanted her to see what he’d become—without her.
One lunch break, he searched her name online, filtering for London. Hundreds of Emilys stared back. None were his. Only when he added their hometown did she appear.
He devoured every photo. Recognising, yet not recognising, her posing by a villa with a pool, playing with a Rottweiler, holding a boy’s hand. Her bio was sparse: “Lives in Berlin. Married. One son.”
He messaged her—short, casual. “Saw your profile. Glad life’s good.” No reply. He only then noticed she hadn’t logged in for two years.
For weeks, he wondered why. Then it hit him—she’d made that page for him. Listed their hometown so he’d find it. She’d been looking for him. The thought warmed him.
Memories gnawed at him. He rang an old mate, now a detective, and asked for Emily’s parents’ address.
“In London? You kidding?” his friend laughed.
“Please. They can’t have vanished.”
“Mate, they’re probably in Berlin with her. Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”
Days later, his mate called back. “Sold the flat two years after moving. Got the dad’s old passport details. Write this down…”
Lately, Daniel spent hours online. Lucy noticed. One evening, she checked his laptop and found Emily’s profile.
When he got home, she cut straight to it: “How long have you been cheating?”
“What? Christ, Lucy, no!” he snapped.
“Then who’s this?” She jabbed at Emily’s photo.
“Just someone from school. Stumbled across her online.” He wasn’t lying, but he still felt caught.
“‘Just’,” Lucy echoed. “Mum said you had some big school romance. Still hung up? Is that why you named her Emily?” Her voice wavered. “All these years—the house, the car, the job. You wanted her to see. Wanted her to regret it.”
She was right. And he hated that she knew.
“You can’t undo the past,” she went on, fighting tears. “You’re chasing a memory. The real Emily’s moved on. Maybe you should meet her. See her as she is now. Only then will you let go.”
Daniel held her, promised she was everything now. But the address nagged at him.
One day, he cracked. Went to London. Emily’s mum didn’t recognise him.
“Mum, who’s here?”
Emily walked in.
“Daniel?” Her voice was a mix of joy, shock, confusion.
Pale, thinner, older—but her.
“Hey. We never did go to the cinema,” he said, forgetting his rehearsed lines.
“What cinema?” But her face said she knew.
“That film after graduation. I had the tickets. You left for London. Why didn’t you write? I was such an idiot—didn’t even say goodbye.” He paused. “I saw your profile. Are you visiting?”
She just stared.
Over tea, she admitted she’d divorced. Tried staying in Berlin alone, but her ex took their son.
“Doesn’t matter. I wrote Mum. She sent money for the trip. So… here I am.”
Daniel took in the worn kitchen, her exhausted face.
“He stepped out into the London rain, pulled his coat tight, and strode toward the Tube station, knowing he was finally free of the past.
