From the very first lecture at university, two girls instantly noticed each other—both pretty, with an uncanny resemblance. Ever since, they were inseparable.
Olivia believed she deserved better than spending her life in a small provincial town like her parents. Her mother worked as a shop assistant, her father as a builder—who, of course, drank. After finishing school, she announced she was leaving for London.
Her parents sighed but didn’t argue. Maybe she’d have better luck than her older sister, who married poorly and was now raising two children alone. They couldn’t send much money, but they’d arrange for vegetables from their garden and homemade preserves to be delivered. A neighbor worked as a train conductor on the London line.
Arriving in London, Olivia vowed never to return home. She befriended Charlotte because she was a true Londoner—her father a doctor, her mother an accountant. A respectable, cultured family.
Charlotte pitied Olivia, who took advantage. “My boots are worn out, no money for new ones.” Charlotte handed over an extra pair. “Nothing to wear for the party?” Charlotte gave her a dress—thankfully, they were the same size. Olivia even stayed over during exams—no chance to study in the dorm.
Olivia loathed studying but forced herself, though all she wanted was to hit the clubs. Once she had her degree, she’d settle in London properly, then she could have her fun.
Charlotte, effortless in everything, aced her classes. Olivia envied her, though she’d never show it. As fate would have it, they both fell for the same boy—handsome, athletic. Daniel had come to London from a military base where his father served. Soon, they were a trio everywhere.
“Dan, what’s the deal—taking turns or sharing? Lend us one,” the lads teased.
Even tutors joked, asking who he fancied.
Daniel ignored them. He preferred gentle, calm Charlotte, but feared showing it. He didn’t want anyone thinking he’d picked her for her London postcode.
In lectures, his knee would brush hers, his head tilt toward her as if whispering. No one noticed—except Olivia. She saw the way their faces stiffened, the unspoken tension. Rage bubbled inside her. Not only was Charlotte born in London to a perfect family, now she’d snagged the best guy too.
Daniel grew tired of hiding his feelings. He confessed to Charlotte and made it clear Olivia was the third wheel. The group fell apart. Olivia wouldn’t accept it—she wouldn’t lose Charlotte, nor would she surrender Daniel.
She plotted. She had to ruin this before it went further. Straight confrontation wouldn’t work—she needed them to fight and split. No time to waste. Third year was ending—just exams left. What if they married before graduation?
“Better she breaks a leg, stays home. No—he’d carry her around. Covered in spots, then. I’ll buy her strawberries,” Olivia mused.
Strangely, fate spared Charlotte. Olivia was the one left with a rash.
Before exams, Daniel’s mother fell seriously ill. He arranged to retake in August and left. The rare London sun blazed—perfect for the beach, not textbooks. After the first exam, the girls walked through town. Olivia paused by a bridal boutique.
“Which dress would you pick for your wedding?” she asked.
“Don’t know. Haven’t thought about it.”
“Come off it. Every girl dreams of a white dress. I’d want this one.” Olivia pointed to a full-skirted gown. “Suits me, yeah? Let’s try it on—no charge for that.”
“Don’t be daft. I’ll roast in tights in this heat. Let’s get ice cream instead,” Charlotte tugged her away.
“Come on, just one dress. Pretend I’m the bride and you’re my maid of honour,” Olivia begged.
“Trying on a dress without a proposal is bad luck—you’ll never marry,” Charlotte warned.
“Old wives’ tale. You’ll pick yours early too. Everyone does it. Just one—please?”
“Fine,” Charlotte relented.
Inside, a bored, sweaty assistant greeted them.
Olivia played bride, scrutinizing gowns, then vanished into the changing room. Charlotte admitted the dress was stunning—Olivia looked ready for the registry. If only she had someone to marry.
“We’ve a gorgeous dress—hardly anyone suits it. Petite like you, though? Perfect. I’ll give you a discount,” the assistant told Charlotte.
“It’s not me—my friend’s getting married,” Charlotte flustered.
“Easy fix. Just try it,” the woman smiled.
Charlotte stepped into the changing room. When she emerged, Olivia’s breath caught. The dress clung to her like it was tailor-made—simple, elegant, no lace needed.
“Needs a veil,” Olivia muttered.
“A tiara would suit better,” the assistant suggested.
“Bring it,” Olivia snapped, masking envy.
Everything always worked for Charlotte. Olivia glanced at herself—her dress now seemed garish. The assistant fixed a jeweled twig into Charlotte’s hair.
Olivia’s phone clicked, capturing every angle. “Smile. Now turn—look over your shoulder. Perfect.”
“Enough jokes,” Charlotte said, retreating to change.
“I’ll help,” the assistant scurried after her.
Alone, Olivia’s plan sparked. She scrolled through the photos—Charlotte, radiant as a bride. “Needs more makeup. I’ll edit it, send it to Daniel—’While you’re away, your girl’s marrying someone else.'” In one shot, a man at the window chatted on his phone—the perfect groom waiting. Olivia stifled a triumphant cry.
After exams, Olivia stayed in London. Her childhood room now housed her sister’s kids. She called home, said she’d found work, wouldn’t return. Her mother was thrilled—now she could keep the money.
“The kids need so much now,” her mother sighed.
“No more money, just like that?” Olivia seethed.
“Be fair. She’s struggling too,” Charlotte soothed.
“What was she thinking, having kids? He was always going to leave.”
“I’d never leave you. Come on—Mum made stew.”
“What would I do without you?” Olivia said, meaning it.
A month later, she sent Daniel the photo.
He returned in August.
“Why so grim? Your mum worse?” Charlotte pressed.
“No, she’s fine. Should I congratulate you?”
“On what?”
“Your wedding. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not—what?”
He showed the photo.
“That was a joke! Olivia dragged me in. Now I get it. Dan, let me explain—”
“Great joke,” he said, walking away.
“Why’d you send him that?” Charlotte rounded on Olivia.
“You looked gorgeous. Wanted him to propose already.”
“Now he thinks I’m lying!”
Daniel ignored her calls, avoided her. Charlotte stayed distant. But Olivia didn’t care. Term was starting—money would come again. She didn’t need Charlotte. Daniel would be hers.
In lectures, Charlotte sat alone, stealing glances at Olivia and Daniel. Then his mother died. Olivia hovered, never leaving his side. Soon, they’d filed for a registry office wedding. No explanations needed.
His father got posted to an academy in York—given a house. Daniel and Olivia married, switched to distance learning, and left.
Two years after graduation, Charlotte married her father’s friend’s son—her parents’ choice. She didn’t care then. They never loved each other. No children came. He strayed; they divorced after seven years.
*
“Why there? That village? No one’s lived there for years,” her mother argued.
“I need to be alone. I can’t breathe here,” Charlotte nearly shouted.
“Go to Spain, then. Or Greece.”
“I want solitude, not crowds.”
“You wanted me to marry Henry. Neither of us loved each other. He had someone else—cheated the whole time. You knew. I’ve endured enough. I’ll decide what’s next. Don’t worry—I won’t do anything drastic. There’s no one left to do it for.”
The house was smaller than she remembered. Her grandfather built it—meant to be a family legacy. But her father left for London, built a career. The house stood empty after her grandfather’s death, though someone kept an eye on it.
From the train, Charlotte dragged her suitcase down the dusty lane, regretting overpacking.
The gate’s latch lifted easily—someone had oiled it. Inside, the air smelled of damp and old books. She started a fire in the stove, fetched water from the rusty pump outside.
“Doesn’t work anymore,” a voice said.
A bearded man stood by the fence.
“Where can I get water?”
“Come inside,” he offered, opening his gate. “There’s a tap here.”
Charlotte stayed outside, filling her bucket. The garden was immaculate—trimmed hedges, bright flowers.
“It’s lovely.”
“Not mine. I just look afterThey stood there, under the weight of years and lost chances, the past and the future tangled in silence, until at last he reached for her hand, and she let him take it.
