A Barrier to Love
Yana had finally ended things with Max, her long-term boyfriend. They’d dated for years before moving in together, but living under the same roof had been a disaster. What seemed like love in fleeting moments had crumbled under the weight of daily life.
“Turns out we’re completely incompatible,” she thought bitterly each night on her way home from work.
“Another evening of walking in to find the flat a mess, dishes piled high, crumbs everywhere—and him sprawled on the sofa glued to his phone. I’ve had enough. Today’s the day I end this.”
Pushing open the door, she took in the familiar chaos. Max lounged on the sofa, still “searching” for a job after two months. But she knew the truth—he was content to live off her.
“Max, this is unbearable. The mess, the laziness—it’s been months. We’re done. Pack your things and go,” she said firmly, voice rising.
“Bloody hell, Emily, what’s got into you? Things were fine!” Max shot up, incredulous.
“This isn’t sudden. I’ve thought about it for ages. We’re not right for each other. Leave. I’m serious—don’t argue.”
“You’ll regret this! Where am I supposed to go at this hour?” he sneered.
“That’s your problem. You’ve got parents, haven’t you? Go there.”
Clattering dishes in the sink, she scrubbed until the kitchen gleamed. When she glanced back, Max was zipping up his bag—his belongings pitifully few.
“You’ll see,” he spat, slamming the door behind him.
“A closed door is just a new chance to find one that opens,” the words floated into her mind. Smiling, she bolted the door and sank onto the sofa. “Finally. A fresh start. Should’ve done this ages ago.”
Her parents, who’d despised Max, were overjoyed.
“Thank God you’ve got rid of that layabout,” her mother, Margaret, chided. “Living off you like that—shameful. You’re twenty-seven, love. Time to settle down with a proper man.”
Emily knew. She worked as a nurse in the city hospital—not some quiet clinic where shifts passed lazily. Here, patients poured in day and night, trauma and emergencies nonstop. Exhausted, she’d return home starving, no energy to cook. Now, alone, she grabbed a kebab from the shop across the street before collapsing into bed.
Four months later, she met Daniel.
One evening, he’d rushed a friend into the hospital after a car crash. Spotting Emily on duty, he was instantly smitten.
“Those eyes,” he thought. “I have to meet her.”
Later, lurking in the corridor, he seized the moment as she stepped out.
“Sorry—I’m Daniel,” he blurted.
“So?” She smirked.
“Emily, fetch the charts next door!” a voice called. She dashed off.
“Not exactly the place for chit-chat,” he mused. When she hurried back, he asked, “When do you finish?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
At eight, he waited outside. Spotting him, she froze.
“You?”
“Me. Your name?”
“Emily. And you’re Daniel.”
She’d assumed she’d never see him again. Exhausted but oddly energised, she studied him—tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed.
“Let me walk you home. I can’t imagine pulling shifts like that.”
“I’m used to it. What do you do?”
“Haulage. My dad runs the business—I’m his right-hand man. Plenty of free time.”
That evening, they met for coffee, strolled the Thames, and he drove her home. Their romance blossomed fast, inseparable.
Her mother pestered her.
“You’re never home! Who’s this mystery man?”
“Mum, I’m in love. No time.”
“Bring him round, then!”
Weeks later, Daniel met her parents.
“Mum, Dad—this is Daniel.”
Margaret’s smile vanished. “Hello. Come in.”
Dinner was icy. Only her father spoke. Confused, Daniel asked later, “Do they hate me?”
“No idea. They’re usually cheerful.”
The truth? Daniel was the son of her mother’s sworn enemy. Years ago, Margaret’s childhood friend, Alice, had stolen her boyfriend. Though Alice later married well, Margaret never forgave her. Now, Alice’s son stood in her home—dating her daughter.
When pressed, Margaret snapped, “His mother is Alice. She’ll despise you if she finds out whose daughter you are.”
“Wait—are we Romeo and Juliet?” Emily laughed nervously.
“No rivalry. I just won’t forgive her. And you—first Max, now Daniel!”
“Mum, I love him.”
“Then choose—your family or him.”
Emily confessed Daniel everything.
“People aren’t their parents,” he said. “We’ll marry. She’ll come around.”
He told Alice, who sighed. “The past is past. I’m happy for you.”
They married. Alice beamed; Margaret scowled. Time passed, the families distant.
“Maybe a baby will thaw your mum,” Daniel said.
“Grandma might love them more than she ever did me.”
For now, they lived in hope, splitting visits between families. And soon—though they hadn’t told anyone yet—there’d be news. A new beginning, perhaps the bridge they needed.
