*December 30th*
Liza kept ignoring the calls, but Nick kept ringing again and again.
“Liza, answer. How long is this going to go on?” Aunt Marina peeked into the room. “Or just turn your phone off if you don’t want to talk.” She slammed the door shut.
Liza switched off her phone and tossed it across the sofa. She would’ve done it ages ago, but she was waiting for Andrew to call. He had promised, yet two days had passed in silence. And Nick? She didn’t want to speak to him, let alone see him. She’d crawled out of her shell for him—the shell she’d hidden in after her parents died. And then he had betrayed her so callously…
***
That night, the roads had been sheets of black ice. Her parents were driving back from her grandmother’s in Manchester. A Jeep swerved out of a side street. The drunk driver lost control, skidding straight into their car. Her mum died instantly; her dad passed away in the hospital.
Exactly a year had passed. Liza used to love New Year’s—counting down the days in excitement. Now, the thought of it made her shiver. It wasn’t a celebration anymore, just a grim reminder of loss and unending grief.
She didn’t know how she’d made it through her first year at university, how she’d survived the pain at all. Her aunt, Marina—her dad’s sister—had moved in after the accident. She’d divorced her husband years ago when she found out she couldn’t have children, thanks to a botched abortion in her teens.
“Just call me Marina. ‘Aunt’ makes me feel ancient,” she’d said.
But Marina couldn’t replace her parents. They weren’t friends, either. Marina was always busy—dating, meeting men, trying to restart her life.
Liza had no plans for New Year’s. She’d go to bed early and skip it entirely. But Nick had persuaded her to come to his friend’s birthday party two days before.
“I can’t show up alone. Everyone’s bringing someone. It’s not even New Year’s—just a party. Come on, you need to start living again. Your mum wouldn’t want you locked up like this,” he’d argued.
The last line broke her resistance. She agreed. She wore the dress she and her mum had picked out last New Year’s—the one she’d never had the chance to wear.
“You’ll be the most beautiful girl there,” her mum had said.
And it fit perfectly.
Marina gave her a critical once-over.
“Living with you, I’ll never remarry. Who’d look at me with a young beauty like you around?” She sighed. “Isn’t it a bit revealing? Wait here.” She returned with a delicate silk scarf, slightly darker than the dress, complementing it perfectly.
*Mum would’ve liked it,* Liza thought.
“That’s better,” Marina said, satisfied. “You can drape it over your shoulders if it gets chilly.”
The taxi ride took ages. When they finally arrived, the party was in full swing. The birthday boy whistled when he saw Liza.
“Now I see why you’ve been hiding her. I might just steal her myself,” he joked, wagging a finger at Nick.
Liza didn’t know anyone but Nick. As long as he stayed beside her, she was fine. But then the music changed, and some random guy pulled her onto the dance floor. When the song ended, Nick was gone.
She felt awkward, surrounded by strangers. She wandered through the flat looking for him, spotting the front door slightly ajar. Stepping out, she saw Nick on the landing below—kissing some girl like they’d been apart for years. They were so engrossed, they didn’t even notice her.
Her stomach twisted. She couldn’t stay. Back inside, she grabbed her coat and boots, then headed out again.
The sight of them still made her sick. She couldn’t walk past. Instead, she went upstairs, hoping they’d leave soon. But even there, she could hear their whispers.
One more floor up. The hallway led to an open balcony. She stopped, leaning against the railing, letting the cold air cool her flushed face. The cars below looked like lumps of snow.
*Would it hurt if I jumped?* The thought flickered. *No—stop it.* She recoiled, then peered back over the edge.
“Don’t you dare!” A firm voice startled her. Strong hands yanked her away from the railing.
Her scarf snagged, slipped free, and fluttered dangerously close to the edge. She lunged for it—too late. It vanished into the dark.
“Let go!” she snapped at the stranger still holding her. “That was Marina’s scarf! She’ll kill me!”
“Sorry—I thought you were going to jump,” he said, sheepish.
“Why would I? I was just looking!” She bristled.
“Let’s find your scarf.” He guided her back downstairs. Nick and the girl were gone. That stung—he hadn’t even noticed she’d left.
The scarf was tangled in a tree below. The guy grabbed the lowest branch, hoisting himself up—until it snapped. He caught the scarf mid-fall, but not before a chunk ripped off.
“Sorry. Will you get in trouble? Is it expensive?” He handed it to her.
“No. Marina gave it to me. What am I supposed to do with it now?” She stuffed the ruined fabric into her coat pocket.
“Leaving the party?” he asked.
“Why do you care?” she muttered.
“Let me walk you home.”
“I can manage.”
“It’s late, and this isn’t the best area. Come on.”
Reluctantly, she followed. He flagged down a taxi and slid in beside her.
“I could’ve gotten home alone,” she grumbled.
“Where to, love?” the driver asked cheerfully.
She gave her address.
Silence filled the ride until the guy finally asked, “So… you really weren’t going to jump?”
“What if I was? Who even are you?”
“Andrew.”
“Who—Angel?”
“Sure, if you like. Mum named me after an old folk-rock band her dad loved—*Andrew and Eliza.*”
She studied him.
“My name’s Eliza.”
“No way! Mum always said I’d meet my Eliza one day. Fate, don’t you think?”
She thought he was mocking her, but he was dead serious.
“Why’d you say ‘Mum’ like she’s gone?” she asked softly.
“What? No, she’s fine. Remarried, lives abroad now. I stayed here with Dad.”
They reached her flat.
“Give me your number. It’d be unfair if I found you just to lose you again,” he said, pulling out his phone.
She recited it.
“I’ll call tomorrow,” he promised.
***
Two days passed. No call. Liza couldn’t stop thinking about that strange boy with the odd name. How had he even appeared on that balcony? She hadn’t heard footsteps. *Maybe he was an angel.*
Then—a knock.
“Eliza, door! My hands are covered in flour!” Marina called from the kitchen.
Another one of Marina’s suitors was coming over—some middle-aged bloke she hoped to impress with her cooking. Especially since it was New Year’s Eve. Eliza planned to hide in her room.
She opened the door, expecting a balding stranger. Instead—Andrew.
“Why’d you ignore my calls? Why turn off your phone?” he asked, mildly offended.
“I thought—” She’d been rejecting every call without checking.
“Was it that guy? The one who made you want to jump?” Now he was teasing. “I figured I’d come myself. Besides—you left your shoes in the cab.” He held out a bag.
“How did you… How did you *find* me?”
“I waited that night. Watched which window lit up. Easy from there.”
“Eliza, who’s there?” Marina shouted.
“It’s for me!”
“Your mum?” Andrew asked.
“No. Marina.”
“Get dressed. I’ll wait outside. We’re short on time,” he said suddenly.
“I’m not going. You don’t understand—I can’t do New Year’s. It’s…” Her voice cracked.
“Just meeting friends at a pub. Live music. Small crowd.” His gaze held hers, and somehow, she felt he *did* understand.
“What should I wear?”
“Whatever’s comfortable.”
She changed into jeans and a peach-coloured jumper—simple, but she knew she looked lovely.
“Marina, I’m going. Dunno when I’ll be back,” she called, stepping out.
***
The pub was small, warm. Three lads played guitars and drums near the back. They cheered when they saw Andrew.
“This is Eliza,” he introduced her.
One grinned. “Fitting. Play with us?”
Andrew joined them on piano. Eliza listened, captivated.
“BoredThe music faded, and Andrew turned to her with a smile, fingers still resting on the keys, and in that moment, Eliza knew she wouldn’t spend another New Year’s alone.
