**Loves Me? Loves Me Not?… Or Just Herself?**
*”What do you mean you can’t decide?”* Emma stared at her old school friend with such disapproval, as if she’d just confessed to a crime. *”If you’re torn between two men, you don’t love either of them. It’s as plain as day.”*
*”Easy for you to say,”* Olivia sighed, turning away. *”Not everyone’s as sure of themselves as you are. I’m still learning what love is. I don’t have the experience. On Monday, I think the first one’s it. By Tuesday, I’m certain it’s the second. Come Wednesday, I’m back to the first again. It’s not a joke—they’re both good men. And neither feels like a stranger.”*
*”Flip a coin if you can’t decide,”* Emma muttered. *”Better than this back-and-forth torment. At least then you’d have a clear conscience.”*
*”Right, brilliant advice. Go toss your coins in a fountain for luck. And let’s not pretend you’ve ever had to make a choice like this—or maybe you’ve never had the option?”*
*”I’d never lie to someone like that!”* Emma shot back. *”I’ve got Thomas. He loves me, and I love him. That’s all there is to it.”*
*”Of course. Happily ever after,”* Olivia smirked bitterly.
…
Three years later, Emma sat alone in a quiet pub, tears streaking her cheeks. A half-finished glass of lukewarm wine sat in front of her. The memory of that old conversation played on a loop in her mind.
*”Never say never.”* Who’d have thought she’d end up in the same spot? Only now, she was the one agonising over two men. *Her.* The same Emma who’d once handed out advice like it was nothing.
With Daniel, it had been over a year. Everything seemed perfect. He was steady, clever, attentive—the dream, really. And yes, serious about their future.
But then, out of nowhere, Thomas reappeared. *That* Thomas. The ex. The one who’d left her after growing jealous, suspicious, picking fights over nothing. They’d split when it became clear—he didn’t see her as the woman he loved anymore. To him, she’d become invisible. Everything was wrong—her words, her clothes, even her glances. Then, silence. The break. The ache. Months alone.
And then—a call. *”Hi, how are you? I’ve got no one else to talk to. Let’s meet…”*
She went. Out of habit. To prove to herself it was long over.
But there he was—Thomas, lost and defeated. Jobless, caring for his sick mother, with no one else. He talked non-stop, and she listened. And pitied him.
She didn’t say she had someone else. That she might be happy. That someone was waiting for her.
Thomas started texting. Calling. Inviting her out. They met up—innocently, at first. Then more often.
With Daniel, nothing had changed. He was still there. Kind. Thoughtful. Gifts, gentle touches, *that* look in his eyes—warm, adoring. Always.
But Thomas… It was like stepping back in time. Nights out with old friends, gigs, road trips. With him, she felt young again. Daniel didn’t get it—he was serious. Busy. An introvert.
Emma was torn. Her heart was split. Daniel was the future. Thomas was… someone she still felt sorry for. Or maybe still loved?
Night after night, she ran through the possibilities. How to tell the truth? How to choose?
Then one evening, when she couldn’t take it anymore, she dialled Olivia’s number. To apologise. To beg forgiveness for those old words.
*”I’m sorry for what I said back then… I understand now how you felt.”*
*”Sorry for what?”* Olivia sounded genuinely confused. *”I don’t even remember who I was choosing. That was ages ago.”*
*”Well, now I’m in your shoes. Stuck between two. Terrified.”*
*”Do you really think love means ‘stuck between two’? You don’t love either of them. But you do love yourself—quite a lot. How would you feel if someone did this to you? Dated two people at once—would you still love them?”*
*”No one,”* Emma whispered.
*”There’s your answer. No one. Because that’s what people do when they only love themselves. Emma, if either of them means anything to you—look at him. Picture life without him. Imagine he leaves. That you never see his smile again, never feel his hand in yours…”*
*”Daniel,”* Emma blurted out.
Goosebumps pricked her skin. The thought was unbearable—no more of his quiet patience, his warmth, his love.
And then, just like that—she knew who she loved.
P.S. Sometimes, to hear your own heart, you just have to stop lying to yourself.
