Helen never once considered asking Simon to move in with her. Dating was one thingliving together, quite another. That Saturday, she was waiting for him to arrive for their usual stroll. When she opened the door, she nearly faintedthere he stood, two large suitcases in hand.
Sitting in her armchair, Helen scrolled through photos on her phone. Here they were in the park, feeding the ducks. Another showed them walking together, and yet another from their mushroom-foraging trip. Six months had flown by without her noticing.
Theyd met on a dating site. She was sixty-one, he sixty-threeboth divorced, with grown children living independently. Simon had caught her eye straight away: well-mannered, well-read, with a dry sense of humour. He wasnt looking for a mother to his kids or a housekeeperjust companionship with someone interesting.
They met two or three times a weekthe theatre, an art gallery, cafés, walks through town, weekends at her friends countryside cottage. Helen liked this easy, commitment-free closeness.
“Tell me about your life,” Simon had asked early on, after one of their dates.
“Its quiet. Peaceful. Ive lived alone for five yearsIm used to it.”
“Dont you get lonely?”
“Sometimes. But I have friends, daughters who visit. And now theres you.”
“Thats nice to hear.”
Since his divorce, Simon had rented a tiny flat in an old building. He often complained about his fussy landlady, who never fixed anything yet raised the rent regularly.
“What can you do?” hed sigh. “No place of my own. After the split, everything went to my ex. Her parents bought the flat years ago, and good luck proving I paid for the renovations.”
“Have you thought about buying something?”
“Where would I get that kind of money?”
Helen understood. Shed worked her whole life for her three-bedroom flat in a nice part of town. With her daughters long gone, she had plenty of space.
But it never once crossed her mind to invite Simon to move in. Dating was one thingsharing a home, entirely another.
That Saturday, when she opened the door to find him with suitcases, her stomach dropped.
“Simon, whats happened?”
“Helen, can I come in? Ill explain.”
They went inside. He left the bags in the hallway and sat on the sofa.
“My landladys selling the place. Gave me a week to clear out.”
“And now?”
“Now Ive got nowhere to go. Cant find another flat straight away, and I dont have the money.”
She saw where this was heading.
“Helen, Ive been thinkingweve got something serious here. Six months together, we know each other. Maybe its time we tried living together?”
“Together?” she echoed.
“Yes. Youve got three bedroomsplenty of space. Im not looking for a free rideI still work, Ill chip in for food, bills.”
“Simon, weve never even discussed this.”
“Why discuss it in advance? Lifes forced our hand.”
She felt a knot in her chest. This wasnt what shed signed up for.
“I need time to think.”
“Whats there to think about? We love each other.”
“Love and living together arent the same.”
“Why not? At our age, its time to decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Where this is going. If were dating, we should be together properly.”
Helen glanced at the suitcases. Hed made the choice for her, brought his things, presented it as a done deal.
“What if I say no?”
“No to what? To happiness?”
“No to someone turning up uninvited with luggage.”
“Dont be angry. I didnt mean it like that. Circumstances just”
“Circumstances dont just happen. People make them.”
“Whats that supposed to mean?”
“That you shouldve talked to me first, then packed.”
Simon fell quiet, weighing his words.
“Fine. Lets talk now. Im asking to move in.”
“And Im saying no.”
“Why?”
“Because I like my own space. I enjoy what we have, but I dont want to live together.”
“But why? Were good together.”
“For dates, walks, outingsnot for sharing a home.”
“Whats the difference?”
“The difference is, a home is every day. Habits, routines, compromises.”
“So? We could adjust.”
“Thats just itI dont want to adjust. Im happy as I am.”
Simon looked crestfallen.
“What if I proposed properly? Marriage?”
“What for?”
“What do you mean, what for? To do things right.”
“Simon, marriage wouldnt change anything. I still wouldnt want to live together.”
“Then whats the point of us?”
“The same as before. We see each other, talk, spend time together.”
“And then what?”
“Then we keep doing that.”
“Thats not serious!”
“Why not? It works for me.”
“It doesnt for me. I want stability.”
“What kind of stability?” she asked, sitting opposite him.
“The normal kind. A family. Waking up together, making plans.”
“I dont want daily breakfasts with someone. I dont want to fit into anyone elses plans.”
“But youre alone!”
“Im not alone. Ive got daughters, friends, and you. Loneliness and living alone arent the same.”
“I dont see the difference.”
“The difference is, right now, I choose when and with whom I spend my time. If we lived together, that choice would be gone.”
“Helen, at sixty, youve got to think about wholl be there in old age.”
“I have. It doesnt have to be a husband.”
“Who, then?”
“My daughters, a carer, social services. There are options.”
“Thats not the same!”
“Maybe not for you. It is for me.”
Simon stood and paced the room.
“So youre saying I should keep renting and see you on weekends?”
“Im saying you should live as you please. Well meet when we both want to.”
“And if I cant afford rent?”
“Thats your problem, not mine.”
“Thats harsh, Helen.”
“Its honest. Im not responsible for fixing your living situation.”
“But were together!”
“Were dating. So? That doesnt make me accountable for your life.”
Simon sat back down, silent.
“If I find a flat, will we keep seeing each other?”
“Of course. If we both want to.”
“And until thencould I stay here for a bit?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
He understood she meant it. Picking up his suitcases, he headed for the door.
“So Ill need to find both a home and a new relationship.”
“Maybe.”
“Helen, wont you regret this?”
“No.”
He left. He never called again. Helen returned to her quiet life, valuing peace over romance and freedom over company. At sixty, she knew what mattered most to her.
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