Happiness Beneath the Bench
Emily headed into the shop after work. With just four days left until New Year’s Eve, her fridge was still empty. She hadn’t had time for anything—not even putting up the Christmas tree.
An icy wind howled through the streets. After a brief thaw, the wet pavements had frozen into slippery patches. Of all days, she’d chosen to wear heeled boots. Now she shuffled carefully, trying not to slip. The streetlamps flickered unevenly, casting dim light over the early winter dusk. The heavy shopping bags dug into her palms, her legs aching from the strain. *Why did I buy so much? I could’ve just done half tomorrow*, she scolded herself.
She reached the bus stop and dropped the bags onto the narrow bench, rubbing her stiff, numb fingers. She sat beside them, letting her exhausted legs rest, and buried her hands in her coat pockets. Even here, the wind found her.
She watched the cars drive past, imagining how lovely it would be to sit in a warm car on such a night. She’d dreamed of having her own for ages, but didn’t want to take out a loan. Now she regretted it.
A bus pulled up. The doors hissed open, passengers disembarked, and no one so much as glanced at Emily.
Just as she stood, she heard a groan. She looked around—no one else was there. The sound came again, close by. Emily jumped up, and the headlights of a passing car illuminated something dark behind the bench.
For a moment, she wanted to run away. But what if no one found him until morning? In this cold, he’d freeze—especially if he was drunk.
She grabbed her phone and shone the torch into the shelter. A black wool coat and polished boots caught her eye—no rough sleeper dressed like that.
When she lit up his face, his eyelashes fluttered, but his eyes stayed shut. He was young, well-groomed, dressed smartly. She leaned in—no smell of alcohol.
“Hey, are you alright? Get up, you’ll freeze,” she said, shaking his shoulder.
No response.
Emily dialled 999.
“Wait,” said the weary voice of the dispatcher.
She tucked her phone away and hunched like a sparrow in the cold. She was freezing—how much worse for the man on the ground? Should she leave? But what if the ambulance took ages? Someone might rob him…
By the time the ambulance arrived, her teeth were chattering. Two paramedics in blue jackets stepped out.
“Over there, in the corner,” Emily pointed.
As they examined him, another bus pulled up. Two onlookers started questioning Emily, but the paramedic snapped, “Back off, don’t distract us.”
He returned with a stretcher. “Give me a hand lifting him,” he asked the bystanders—but they vanished.
“What’s wrong with him?” Emily asked anxiously.
“Looks like a heart attack. You found him just in time—he’d have frozen otherwise. Can I get your number? Just in case.”
Emily didn’t need to stay, did she? She was freezing.
Once the ambulance left, she picked up her bags and headed home, her legs so stiff she barely felt the pavement.
Under hot water, she thawed her hands, then unpacked the groceries. All evening, she wondered about the man—what had happened? Why was he there? She wished she’d asked which hospital they took him to.
Two days later, an unknown number called. Snow fell outside, covering the roads in white. She hesitated before answering.
“Emily?” A warm male voice.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“You saved me. Called the ambulance when I was at the bus stop—”
“You’re alive? How are you?” she asked, relieved.
“Fine. I wanted to thank you. You left your number.”
“What happened?”
“Too long to explain now. Could I drop by when you’re free? Where do you live?”
“Oh, no need—” she stammered.
He didn’t push. After an awkward pause, he said goodbye. Only then did she realise she hadn’t even asked his name.
She’d dated someone for four years, two of them living together. But he never proposed. When they split, it took a year to heal. Now she feared new heartbreaks.
Her friends were the same—Rita divorced, Tanya’s boyfriend died overseas. They drank, chatted, watched New Year’s shows, and cried together. Misery loved company.
On the 31st, she lazed in bed. While chopping veggies for salads, the doorbell rang. Too early for her friends.
She opened the door to a handsome man holding flowers and a bag.
“Emily?” He flashed a bright smile. “I came to thank you.”
“It’s you?”
“Yes. I convinced the doctor to discharge me early.”
“How did you find my address?”
He chuckled. “Not hard with your phone number. Mind if I come in?”
Flustered, she ushered him inside.
“These,” he said, handing her the bouquet, then the bag—where she glimpsed champagne bottles and a Christmas pudding. “Thought you might like these.”
She blushed. He looked like he belonged on a film set.
“If not for you…” He held her gaze.
“Please, stay,” she said, hiding her smile in the roses.
He followed her in, shrugging off his coat. Every bit as polished as a magazine cover.
“Expecting guests?” he asked, eyeing the veg.
“My friends are coming.”
“What are you making?”
She shrugged. “The usual—turkey, roast potatoes…”
“Mind if I help? I’m Noah, by the way. Work at The Black Swan—chef.”
Emily blinked but handed him her floral apron.
He worked the knife like a pro, and soon the table groaned under beautifully arranged dishes. They set the dining room together, slipping naturally into first names.
“Why were you at the bus stop?” she asked.
Noah sighed. His restaurant’s Christmas party. His girlfriend had been there—kissing someone else.
“I lost it. Made a scene. Stormed out. Drove aimlessly—furious. Then my chest tightened. Never felt that before. Next thing I knew, I woke up in hospital. They told me Emily saved me.”
“And your girlfriend?”
“Didn’t even visit.” His shrug made Emily inexplicably happy.
“Never cooked like this before,” she admitted, eyeing the spread.
“It’s teamwork. When are your friends arriving?”
“In an hour. I should change,” she said, pausing halfway. “Will you… stay for New Year’s?”
He grinned. “That’s why I’m here.”
She agonised over dresses, wanting to match his effortless glamour. *Who’d let a man like him go?*
When she reappeared, he stood—his look warm, admiring. The doorbell cut off the moment.
Rita and Tanya barged in, gaping at the table.
“You did all this?”
“Nope,” Emily admitted as Noah stepped in.
Rita wolf-whistled. “Keeping secrets?”
Tanya eyed him too, more discreetly.
They drank, laughed. Rita grilled her nonstop.
“Found him at the bus stop. Literally,” Emily teased.
Noah laughed, pouring wine. “I passed out. Emily saved me.”
Rita waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll start checking benches.”
“Yeah, you’ll find a drunk, not a Noah,” Tanya snorted.
Later, he danced with each of them—politely dodging Rita’s clinginess. Emily’s chest ached knowing he’d leave.
At 4 AM, Tanya dragged a tipsy Rita home. Noah offered to drive. Emily masked her jealousy with a smile.
Once they’d gone, she cleaned up, heart still racing.
Then—a knock.
She knew.
Her pulse pounded as she opened the door…
