**Following the Heart**
Emily stepped out of the office just as the lift doors opened, and people began piling in.
“Hold the lift!” she called out, hurrying forward.
In the evening rush, just like mornings, catching the lift was a challenge. Emily barely made it inside at the last second, squeezing past a few bodies. She had to press close against the man in front of her so the doors could shut behind her.
“Sorry,” she murmured, turning her face aside to avoid his chin brushing her forehead. The scent of his cologne was pleasant.
“It’s fine.”
They stood pressed together all the way down to the ground floor.
The lift finally stopped, and the doors slid open. Emily stepped back out, and the man gently took her arm to steady her, steering her clear of the exiting crowd. It almost felt like a dance. Before she could catch her breath or thank him properly, her friend Charlotte appeared beside her.
“Off home? I can give you a lift.”
Distracted, Emily barely got a proper look at the man before he disappeared into the crowd.
“No, I’ll walk. Need some air.”
Outside, a light drizzle had started, and people hurried past under umbrellas.
“It’s raining. Wait here—I’ll bring the car round.”
“Thanks, Charly, but I’d rather walk.” Emily dug her folded umbrella from her bag.
“Suit yourself,” Charlotte said, eyeing her suspiciously.
Emily said goodbye, popped open her umbrella, and merged with the stream of commuters heading home. She wasn’t in a rush. The truth was, she didn’t particularly want to go back.
The umbrella was a distraction—dodging others’ while avoiding bumping into them with her own. She folded it away after a while, letting the damp air settle on her skin. The trees were budding, tiny new leaves unfurling. It was that fleeting moment of spring she wanted to remember.
She couldn’t help but wonder—how had she ended up here again? Wrong place, wrong man. Not literally, of course. She had her flat, left to her by her grandmother—no mortgage, no debts. But that flat seemed to attract the wrong type. Too late, she’d realised that.
Now she dragged her feet, delaying the inevitable return to where Daniel waited. Or rather, where dinner waited—which she’d have to cook. And yet, it had all started so beautifully…
***
She and her mum had lived alone after her dad left when she was nine. By sixth form, her mum had remarried. A stranger in the house meant Emily could no longer wander around in shorts and a vest top. Mum insisted she dress more modestly. Already uncomfortable, Emily barely left her room unless necessary. Her gran solved the problem—she invited Emily to stay so the newlyweds could adjust.
Emily was in her first year at university when Gran passed away, leaving her on her own. At uni, she’d fancied Chris—tall, athletic, popular. She never stood a chance. Then one lecture, he sat beside her. Later, he walked her home.
A month later, he’d moved in. Mum warned her nothing good would come of it, but Emily wouldn’t listen. She wasn’t interfering with her mum’s new marriage—why should her mum meddle in hers? She was an adult, she loved him, and everything would be fine. They’d argued bitterly.
They’d lived together for nearly two years—almost like a married couple. Graduation loomed. Emily was sure he’d propose. But after the ceremonies and celebrations, Chris still hadn’t mentioned it. Instead, he told her he was leaving.
“Going home?” she asked. “When will you be back?”
“I won’t be. I’m moving to London. My uncle offered me work there.”
“What about me?”
“Em, come on—we’ve had a good run, yeah? I’m grateful. You saved me from halls. But I need to move forward. I don’t want to settle down yet. I want my own place, to travel, see the world. I never promised you anything, did I?”
“We could go together—”
“No. We couldn’t.”
As he spoke, she realised she didn’t know him at all. She cried, swore she loved him, begged him to stay.
“I don’t love you. Living with you was convenient. You’re kind, you’ll meet someone decent, get married, have kids. But that’s not for me—not yet. Thanks for everything, but this is where we part ways.”
He left. Emily cried into her pillow for three days. Mum came, didn’t say “I told you so,” just held her. The worst part? He’d never loved her—just the flat. After that, she and Mum reconciled. Small consolation.
***
Emily took a long time to recover. She avoided dating. Work was mostly women anyway.
At the bus stop each morning, she often saw the same man. They’d board together, ride a few stops, exchange smiles. Over time, they’d say hello, even chat. She liked this easy, uncomplicated connection. Strangers, yet not. Mornings, she’d rush to the bus, wondering if she’d see him. Her heart fluttered when she caught his smile.
Then he vanished. She waited, even missed buses hoping he’d appear. He never did.
Until one evening, crossing the road, she spotted him. Her heart leapt.
“Been a while. Were you ill?” she asked.
“Got laid off. No more office runs. Working from home now, but it’s chaos—Mum needs help, my sister distracts me. Job hunting’s been rough. Wanted to see you—don’t even know your name.”
“Emily.”
“Daniel. Friends call me Dan.”
They walked and talked, slipping into first-name terms effortlessly.
“Will I see you again?” she asked outside her flat.
“You will. I live nearby now—I’ll come wait for you.”
He did. Often. They’d walk, talk. She didn’t mention living alone—not wanting to be used again. But Dan never pushed for more. He lived with his mum and sister, never asked to come in.
She liked him. Liked the simplicity. At twenty-five, she wanted love—to give and receive it. The past faded quickly.
One rainy evening, she invited him over. Soon, she suggested he move in. “It’s quieter for work, and you won’t have to run to the bus stop for me.”
Dan never found a job. Said freelancing paid better—video editing, building websites. Weekends were whenever he fancied.
Emily left for work; he stayed home. Sometimes peeled potatoes, boiled pasta. Even shopped occasionally. He proposed quickly, but they postponed the wedding. He gave some money to his family, saved the rest—for their future, he said. She liked that.
But coming home, she’d increasingly find him on the sofa, beer in hand. The potatoes stayed unpeeled, shopping undone. Too busy, he claimed. Yet no extra money appeared.
“Mum’s ill—had to help with medicine. Sis has prom—needed a dress. Everything’s so expensive,” he’d say.
He stopped shaving daily. Why bother? No one saw him. Emily didn’t count. Getting him out became harder. He’d go out in joggers.
“You forgot the laundry—it’s all wrinkled now,” she snapped once.
“Working from home doesn’t mean I’m your housekeeper. I earn money, no weekends. If I want a beer and football, I’ve earned it.” He took every remark as an attack.
Fights became frequent. The wedding wasn’t mentioned again. She started doubting she even wanted it.
When she asked how much he’d saved (by her math, enough for three weddings and a Bahamas honeymoon), he exploded. “I don’t owe you reports! It’s my money! I’ve got family to care for—you’re not my wife!”
He backpedalled, but the damage was done.
Emily stopped rushing home. A kitchen full of dishes, beer cans, cooking for two—Dan had put on weight, grown lazy. No more heart-to-hearts. Every talk ended in a row.
Tonight, she walked in the rain, rehearsing the breakup speech.
“Em!”
She barely registered her name.
“Emily!”
A sleek car pulled up. A handsome man in a suit, neatly bearded, stepped out.
“Been shouting after you. What’s on your mind, beautiful?”
“Rob? Robbie Baker!” She blinked.
“The one and only.”
“You’ve changed.”
“You haven’t—still gorgeous.”
They caught up rapidly—he was married, a son, another baby due. Ran his own business. Meanwhile, at twenty-six, she had… a flat and a job.
“And you?” he asked.
“Fine. Career-focused.”
“Smart. You’ve got time. Always knew you’d go far. Funny—I fancied you rotten at school. You never noticed.”
A flicker of something in his eyes, then gone.
She hadn’t noticed the lanky boy withShe finally understood that happiness wasn’t found in the wrong men or the wrong choices, but in the courage to walk away and the hope of something better waiting just around the corner.
