From the very first day at university, two girls caught each other’s eye. Both pretty, with an uncanny resemblance. From then on, they were inseparable.
Lydia believed she deserved more than a life in a sleepy provincial town like her parents. Her mother worked as a shop assistant, her father as a builder—and yes, he drank. After finishing school, she announced she was leaving for London to study.
Her parents sighed but didn’t stop her. Maybe she’d have better luck than her older sister, who’d made a poor marriage and was now raising two children alone. They couldn’t send much money, but they’d pack homemade preserves and vegetables whenever possible. A neighbour, who worked as a train attendant on the London route, promised to deliver them.
Arriving in London, Lydia swore she’d never go back. She befriended Emily precisely because Emily was a true Londoner—her father a doctor, her mother an accountant, a proper middle-class family.
Emily pitied Lydia, and Lydia took advantage. Her boots were worn out? Emily would lend her a spare pair. Nothing to wear for a night out? Emily handed over a dress—lucky they were the same size. Lydia often stayed over at Emily’s, especially during exams. The dorm was no place to study.
Lydia hated academics but forced herself through the books, though all she wanted was to dance the nights away. No matter—once she had her degree and a foothold in London, she’d make up for lost time.
Emily, on the other hand, breezed through everything effortlessly. Lydia burned with envy but never showed it. As often happens, they both fell for the same guy—handsome, athletic Daniel, whose father was stationed at a military base nearby. Soon, the three were inseparable.
“Dan, how d’you manage—taking turns or sharing?” the lads teased. Even professors joked, asking which girl had truly caught his eye.
Daniel ignored them. He preferred Emily’s quiet warmth but hid it, not wanting anyone to think he’d chosen her for her London roots.
In lectures, his knee would brush against hers as if by accident, his head tilting toward her like he had something to whisper. What no one else noticed, Lydia saw instantly—the tension in their frozen expressions. Resentment flooded her. Not only was Emily born into privilege, but she’d also stolen the best guy.
Daniel grew tired of hiding his feelings and confessed to Emily, while gently nudging Lydia aside. The trio fractured. Lydia refused to accept it. She wouldn’t lose Emily, nor would she surrender Daniel.
So she plotted. To restore balance. To sabotage them. Confrontation was too blunt—she needed them to fight and split. Time was short. Third year was ending; exams loomed. What if they married before graduation?
“If only she’d break a leg. No—then he’d carry her everywhere. Better if her face broke out. I’ll buy her strawberries,” Lydia mused.
Fate, inexplicably, spared Emily. Lydia was the one left with a rash.
Before exams, Daniel’s mother fell seriously ill. He arranged to defer his tests and left for home. London basked in rare summer heat—perfect for the beach, not textbooks. After their first exam, the girls wandered the city. Lydia paused at a bridal boutique.
“Which dress would you pick for your wedding?” she asked.
“Dunno. Haven’t thought about it.”
“Liar. Every girl dreams of a white dress. I’d want this one.” She pointed to a voluminous gown. “Would it suit me? Let’s try it on—it’s free!”
“Don’t be daft. It’s boiling. Let’s get ice cream instead,” Emily tugged her away.
“Come on! Just one dress. Pretend I’m the bride, and you’re the maid of honour.”
“Trying on a dress before you’re engaged is bad luck—you’ll never marry,” Emily warned.
“Old wives’ tales. Everyone does it.”
Finally, Emily relented.
The shop assistant, bored and sweaty, perked up as they entered. Lydia played bride, scrutinising gowns before picking one. Even Emily admitted it was stunning.
“We’ve a perfect dress few can wear,” the assistant said to Emily. “You’re slim—it’ll fit. I’ll give you a discount.”
“It’s not me getting married.”
“Easily fixed. Just try it.”
When Emily emerged, Lydia’s breath caught. The dress clung to her like it was tailored—simple, elegant.
“Needs a veil,” Lydia muttered.
“A tiara would suit better,” the assistant suggested.
“Bring it,” Lydia snapped, masking her envy.
Everything always worked for Emily. In the mirror, Lydia’s gown now looked tacky. The assistant pinned a jewelled branch into Emily’s hair.
“Mind if I take a photo? It’s perfect on you,” the assistant asked.
“Me too.” Lydia whipped out her phone. “Smile. Now turn around—look back at me. Perfect.”
“Enough.” Emily retreated to change.
Left alone, Lydia hatched her plan. No effort required. She scrolled through the photos—Emily, radiant. “Just needs editing,” she decided. She’d send it to Daniel: “While you’re away, your girl’s marrying someone else.” A man reflected in the shop window—talking on his phone—could pass for the groom. Lydia nearly squealed at her luck.
After exams, Lydia didn’t go home. Her room now housed her sister and nephews. She called, claiming she’d found work. Her mother, relieved, said they’d stop sending money.
“Olly’s kids need so much,” her mother sighed.
“Typical. The second I say I’m working, the cash dries up.”
“Be fair. Your sister’s struggling too,” Emily soothed.
“What did she expect, having kids with that loser?”
“I’d never abandon you. Come home—Mum made stew.”
A month later, Lydia sent Daniel the photo.
He returned in August.
“You’re grim. Is your mum worse?” Emily pressed.
“No, she’s fine. Congrats, by the way.”
“On what?”
“Your wedding. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What? That was a joke! Lydia dragged me there. Dan, let me explain—”
“Funny joke.” He walked away.
“Why’d you send him that photo?” Emily confronted Lydia.
“You looked gorgeous. I thought he’d propose already.”
“Now he thinks I’m cheating!”
Daniel ignored her calls, and Emily distanced herself from Lydia. But Lydia didn’t care. Term was starting—money would come again. She’d manage without Emily. Daniel would be hers.
In lectures, Emily sat alone, stealing glances at Lydia and Daniel. Then his mother died. Lydia clung to him, never leaving his side. Soon, they filed for a marriage licence. Explanations became irrelevant.
Daniel’s father was transferred to teach at a military academy in York, with a house provided. He and Lydia married, switched to remote study, and moved.
Two years after graduation, Emily married the son of her father’s friend—her parents’ choice. She didn’t care at the time. They never loved each other. Childless, he strayed; they divorced after seven years.
***
“Why are you going to that village? No one’s lived there for years,” her mother pleaded.
“I need to be alone. I can’t breathe here,” Emily nearly shouted.
“Go to Spain, then!”
“I want solitude, not crowds.”
The family home, built by her grandfather, stood neglected. She remembered it grand, but time had shrunk it. The key still turned—someone had oiled the lock. Inside, it smelled of damp and old books.
She lit the stove, fetched water from a neighbour—a bearded man by a well-kept garden.
“It’s not mine. I just tend it,” he said, leaving his gate open.
That evening, she brought him pancakes her mother had packed. Finding no one in the house, she spotted a book—*The Shining*—on the sofa. Inside it, the torn-and-taped wedding photo.
She looked up—and recognised Daniel.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Why are *you* here?” he countered.
Over tea in the garden, they talked.
“I was young, stupid. Left everything when Lydia and I split. Came here. Thought about enlisting, but wound up as a caretaker. Lydia admitted the shop stunt later. I kept the photo.”
“Why didn’t you find me?”
“You were married.”
“Not anymore.”
At dusk, he walked her home. At her door, she willed him—*Don’t let me go.*
He didn’t.
**Sometimes, the past isn’t gone—just waiting for the right moment to return.**
