Such is life: We lost 20 precious years, but our time has finally come!
My name is Daisy Summers, and I live in the charming town of Ashford, hidden amidst the rolling British countryside. I could never be his favorite—the fates never gave us a chance to grow close as a couple. James, my James, constantly threw himself into the tumultuous waters of love, giving his heart to women who would only end up breaking it. For twenty years, we orbited one another, but only now, as the sun sets on our youth, has life taken pity on us.
It all began in year ten when James joined our class. New, shy, with an open heart, he immediately caught my attention. Seven months later, he fell for Libby, our classmate—spirited, cunning, with a mischievous grin. She pretended to return his feelings, playing him like a puppet. She even introduced him to her parents, who adored the “nice young chap.” Meanwhile, Libby was seeing the most popular boy in school, Tom, behind James’s back. James ignored the truth until he caught them together at a party at her house. But even then, he didn’t leave—he stayed as her shadow, her cover. Libby’s parents thought Tom was a troublemaker and forbade her from seeing him, while James was seen as the “perfect son-in-law.” He shared her with another and endured. As his friend, I listened to his excuses, his tears, his pain. And so it went on for years.
Then came Nancy—sweet, fun-loving, but not ready for a serious life. James dreamed of a family, of children, and when she said “yes” to his proposal, he believed it was forever. But on the morning of the wedding, she fled—never put on the dress, never crossed the threshold, just vanished. James fell into the depths of despair. I was there—his colleague, his right hand at work. I watched him drown his sorrow in projects, swearing never to fall in love again. Then Olivia showed up—the life of the party, funny, carefree. Everyone adored her, and it seemed she loved everyone. James loved her without reservation. But then he discovered she was expecting a child with someone else. The real father showed up at the birth but refused to acknowledge the child. James gave the baby his surname and raised him like his own. Olivia cheated again and again, but James bore it all—for the sake of the child, for the love that burned within him. Until she shocked him by inviting him to be the godfather at her wedding to another man. James agreed—he remained to care for her son, excusing her flightiness.
The next was Melissa—demanding, like a spoiled princess. She made him take her to fancy restaurants, serve breakfast in bed, and plan extravagant holidays. For three years, he bent over backward for her until she had a meltdown on a plane over an hour’s delay. Mid-air, she broke up with him, screaming he wasn’t good enough. Then there was Julia—jealous to the point of madness. James—loyal, devoted—never gave her a reason. But she hated me, his friend. We worked together and were inseparable, like siblings. Julia demanded he quit because of me. Said at home he talked about me too much. Yes, we spent endless days together, but there was nothing between us but friendship. I secretly loved him while he remained unaware. I had a boyfriend, Jack, who knew my heart belonged to another. He accepted it, lived with me like he was waiting for a miracle. And James pursued new romances, believing in their sincerity. So we drifted apart for ten years.
Ten years later, we ran into each other at a café in Ashford Square. Time stood still. We talked for hours, laughed, reminisced. Neither of us had married. In those years, he’d been through three more hollow relationships, and I’d broken up with Jack—he’d found someone who gave him everything. I had waited for James. “I’ll never find real love to share my life with. Guess I’m just not worthy,” he said, staring at his empty cup. I couldn’t hold back—I grabbed his hand and kissed him. He jerked back: “What are you doing? Don’t do it out of pity!” Pity? I only pitied myself—for years of silence. “James, can’t you see? I’ve loved you since school!” I burst out, trembling. He froze. Admitted he’d loved me too but only saw me as a friend, afraid to ask for more, afraid to ruin what we had. We lost twenty years due to that blindness.
Now we’ve been together for 22 years. Just the other day, our daughter, Libby, told us she’s in love. Her boyfriend is a good, genuine chap, and I can see how much he adores her. What did I tell her? “Don’t wait twenty years like we did. Live your love now.” We missed so much time, but our moment arrived. And I thank fate every day for giving me this life with him—for his kindness, for his heart that searched so long for me in other arms. Life is cruel, but sometimes it offers a second chance. We seized ours—and we’ll never let go.
