“Olly, none of this is necessary. I’m married and love my wife,” he said, uttering the rehearsed phrase.
Edward and Margaret had spent twenty-two years together. The passions had cooled, their bond settling into something steady and calm, more akin to deep companionship. Their daughter was in her second year at medical school, following in her parents’ footsteps. It was hardly surprising—growing up, she had heard nothing but talk of medicine, prescriptions, and patients’ complaints. Even as a child, she had loved flipping through anatomical atlases, fascinated by the intricacies of the human body.
Edward and Margaret had first noticed each other during clinical rotations. He had helped her examine a patient—a brash young man who had been shamelessly flirting with her. Two years later, just before their final exams, they married.
After university, they found work at the same hospital—Margaret in cardiology, Edward as an orthopaedic surgeon. Today was rare; their shifts ended at the same time, and they drove home together.
“Shall we stop at the shops? We’re out of veg for salad.”
“Maybe let’s skip the vegetables just this once. I’m exhausted—it was a complicated surgery,” Edward said, steering smoothly through the crowded streets of London.
“Fine, but we’ll need them tomorrow. Drop me off, and you can go ahead,” Margaret suggested.
“And then you’ll lug all the shopping bags alone while I feel guilty? No, we’ll go together,” Edward replied, turning into the supermarket car park.
He pushed the trolley while Margaret filled it.
“Told you,” Edward muttered, staring at the overflowing cart as they queued at the till.
“But now we won’t have to shop all week,” Margaret said, blowing him an impish kiss before darting off. “Oh—forgot the bread!”
Edward sighed, unloading groceries onto the conveyor. Space was tight, and a box of pasta tumbled onto the pile of items belonging to the woman in front.
She shot him a reproachful glare. Apologising, he picked it up and stood awkwardly, holding it.
The woman turned fully towards him—nearly his age, brown eyes, lips downturned in a melancholic slant. Her hair, bleached with dark roots peeking through, was carelessly twisted into a clip. A tan coat hung loose around her thin frame.
Edward offered a conciliatory smile before glancing away, scanning for Margaret. “Where’s she gone? Probably buying more than just bread.” He looked back at the woman. “Why’s she staring? A former patient?”
“Eddie? Is that you?” she asked suddenly, her eyes lighting up.
“Do we know each other? Were you a patient? I’m afraid I don’t recall…”
“Then you really did become a doctor, like you always wanted?” Her gaze dimmed. “I’m Olly. Olivia Hartley.”
Edward studied her face—something flickered when she said her name. Olivia… Olly…
“Hartley?” The memory surfaced—a schoolyard, a girl running ahead of him, dark hair whipping behind her. He had been breathless, chasing, never catching up…
“Do I look that different?” she asked, disappointed. “You’ve hardly changed. Even better.”
Margaret returned, eyeing them curiously. Edward was so flustered he barely noticed the extra items she had grabbed. The conveyor lurched forward, and he snapped back to attention.
“This is Olivia Hartley, an old classmate. My wife, Margaret.”
Margaret gave Olivia a polite once-over, but Olivia turned sharply back to the till. After paying, she lingered near the exit, pausing as though waiting.
“Now what? Realised I’m a doctor and wants free advice?” Edward thought bitterly—people always did.
“Ed, have you got the card?” Margaret interrupted.
He tapped the card, heaved the shopping bags, and headed out. Olivia held the door open for him. “Ridiculous. What’s she playing at?” he fumed inwardly.
Outside, Olivia addressed only him. “Still live near your parents?”
“No, the next street over. Wanted to stay close.” He paused. “And you?”
She waved vaguely. “Oh, here and there.” The conversation faltered. “It was nice seeing you.” She hesitated, as if expecting him to stop her.
He didn’t. She walked away.
“Was she in love with you?” Margaret asked once they were in the car. “You never mentioned her.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
“Really? The way she looked at you—like she never got over it.”
“It was the other way around,” Edward admitted. “She chose the football captain, Colin Irvine.”
“I think seeing you made her regret it. I’m jealous,” Margaret teased.
“Don’t be. It doesn’t matter now.”
They dropped the subject. That night, Edward lay awake, reminiscing about his youth—the heartache, the near-failure of his exams. Back then, before standardised testing and university quotas.
“She’s changed. Life with Colin must’ve been rough. He was tipped for the national team, but I was just the studious one…”
He finally slept, waking late. Margaret had already left, leaving sandwiches and cold coffee.
Showered and dressed, he drove to work. At a red light, he spotted Olivia’s tan coat at a bus stop. His first instinct was to drive on—but she had already seen him, waving eagerly. Reluctantly, he pulled over.
“Eddie! Thank goodness. I’ve been waiting ages.” She huddled in the passenger seat, hands buried in her pockets. Today, she looked better—subtle makeup, hair neatly pinned.
He doubted her story. “Never seen you here before.”
“Just moved nearby.”
“Do you need help? A relative ill?”
“No. I just wanted to see you,” she said plainly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how you used to chase me…”
“And you chose the footballer.”
“You’re cruel,” she said softly. “Girls dream of princes—but sometimes pick the wrong ones.”
“No children?”
She shook her head. “Colin was always away training or drunk. Then he got injured—couldn’t play, couldn’t coach. I left before he dragged me down.” She fell silent.
“Where am I taking you?”
“Past my stop. Just let me out.”
“Don’t be absurd—address?” He turned the car.
“You have children?”
“A daughter. Studying medicine.”
“Pretty and clever, like you?” She stared at him. “Pull over here. Will we meet again?”
“Olly—” A horn blared. “I can’t stop here. Later.”
She got out, smiling faintly.
Days later, he found her waiting in the rain outside his flat after a night shift. Exhausted, he nearly missed her.
“Olly, don’t do this. I’m married—”
“Where can we talk?” she interrupted.
He glanced at the empty courtyard. “Daughter’s home. The car?”
Inside, the lingering scent of leather and air freshener filled the space.
“I’m not after anything,” she began.
“Then why follow me?”
“When I saw you, I thought… I don’t want to break your marriage, but—hear me out. After Colin, I couldn’t bear men. I regretted pushing you away.”
“You could’ve looked me up.”
“You said you lived across town.”
“Is this why you hunted me down? To tell me about your life?” His patience frayed.
Her voice dropped. “I want a child—a son. Yours.”
“Olly, I told you—”
“I can’t afford IVF,” she blurted.
“You’re mad!”
“I’m alone. I can still have a baby. I’d never trouble you—just once…”
“Have you listened to yourself?” he nearly shouted. “First you spurned me, now this? Are you ill?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Don’t cry. You were always proud, beautiful.”
“Was,” she laughed bitterly, “and now look at me.”
She reached for him—he recoiled.
“Olly, I’m tired. You planned this without caring if I’d want it?”
“Most men would—”
“Not me. Why not have one with them?”
“They weren’t you. A child deserves to be like you—clever, good.”
His stomach turned at her audacity.
“You want to use me? I won’t betray Margaret.”
Olivia hid her face—shoulders shaking—then suddenly laughed, a wild, desperate sound.
“I’m laughing at myself,” she gasped, wiping tears. “You’re right. Forgive me.”
She left, shoulders hunched. He yearned to call out—but feared encouraging her.
When Margaret returned, he was frying potatoes—a rarity.
“What’s wrong? You hate cooking.”
“I saw Olivia.” He told her everything.
Margaret listened silently.
“I refused. She won’t bother us again. Why so quiet?”
“I believe you,” she said calmly. “She must be desperate. Why you?”
He shrugged. “She never saw Olivia again, and though the memory of that rainy morning lingered, Edward found solace in the quiet certainty of his love for Margaret and their shared life together.
