**Love – A Diary Entry**
James sat there for a long while, staring at his phone. He’d been putting this off forever. Finally, taking a deep breath, he pressed the call button. One ring, two… *No, I can’t do this.* He cursed himself for being such a coward and nearly hung up—until Daniel’s voice crackled through the receiver.
“Oi, you old git! Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Hey. Just wrapped up with work and all…”
“You alright? Need anything?” his mate shot back instantly.
“No, no, all good. How’s things with you?”
“Can’t complain. Only, Emily’s been a right handful. Gone and fallen in love, would you believe? Crying one minute, dancing the next. Either she won’t step out of the house or she’s out till all hours. And the kicker? Clammed up tighter than a vault. Speaking of—you still single?”
James swallowed hard, like he was about to jump off a ten-metre diving board. Here it was—the slippery question.
“No. But… I’m getting married,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse.
“Blimey, did you finally find the one to tame the bachelor? About bloody time! Don’t you dare skimp on the invite, or I’ll never forgive you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Planning a visit?”
James had braced for this. No turning back now.
“Actually… I’m already here.”
“*What?* And you didn’t think to say? You in a hotel? Sarah’ll have your head. When you dropping by, then?”
“Alright, slow down,” James laughed. “Can’t keep up with you. Maybe in a bit.”
He’d been back half a year. No need for Daniel to know that yet. Sorting the flat, sorting work, and his dad had been poorly. But mostly—he hadn’t wanted to show his face too soon because of Emily.
“None of that ‘maybe’ rubbish. You hear me? I know you. Get over here now,” Daniel insisted.
“Too late tonight. Tomorrow,” James promised.
“Better not flake. Sarah’ll kill me otherwise.”
So, that was step one. If only Daniel knew the bombshell he’d dropped on him and Sarah, he wouldn’t be so chuffed. Emily had every right to be proud. Meanwhile, he’d been acting like some scared lad dodging his girlfriend’s parents. *And here’s Emily, keeping schtum. Bloody hell—I held her when she was a newborn. Now I want to marry her.*
But best start from the beginning…
***
They’d been friends since uni—Daniel, James, and Sarah. Both blokes had fallen hard for the clever, striking girl. Plenty of lads fancied her, but none stood a chance against Daniel and James. They’d rowed over her, neither willing to back down. If Sarah ever caught wind of the storm raging in their hearts, she never let on, treating them both the same—never playing favourites, never exploiting it.
The lads drove themselves mad. Nearly came to blows. Then they struck a deal: if Sarah picked one of them—or someone else—they’d step aside. Still, each fought to win her over. But Sarah stayed neutral. All they could do was wait.
By third year, Sarah started showing interest in James. His ego ballooned. Daniel spiralled—heartbroken, lovesick—but a deal was a deal. He vanished from campus just to avoid seeing them.
James bought a bottle of whisky and turned up at Daniel’s. They drank all night. By dawn, James realised he didn’t love Sarah the way Daniel did. The bloke genuinely couldn’t live without her.
The solution was simple—James pretended to fall for another girl. Sarah, of course, was furious. Screamed, sobbed, called him a traitor. Just as he’d planned, she found solace with Daniel.
And Daniel loved her so utterly that Sarah’s heart soon followed. James still ached—love doesn’t vanish overnight—but he knew Sarah would be happier with Daniel. Never once did he regret it. Neither Daniel nor Sarah ever guessed his hand in their happiness.
They married right after graduation. James was best man. Nine months later, Sarah had a daughter. Both men showed up at the hospital, grinning like fools, flowers in hand. The midwife hesitated—*Which one’s the dad?*—before Daniel stepped forward, cradled his girl… then passed her to James.
“Here, take her. I’ll drop her, I’m shaking that much,” he whispered.
James held her, peered into the blanket, and there she was—a tiny miracle with rosebud lips, a button nose, and velvet cheeks. His heart swelled so fiercely his eyes pricked. *She could’ve been mine.*
Days later, James left. First to Manchester, then up North. He visited when he could. Emily grew into Sarah’s double—from a skinny girl with plaits to a slender, striking young woman. He envied their happiness, in a good way. Never did find *the one* himself. Plenty of women, but never marriage.
***
He’d always felt differently about Emily. Maybe because of that moment in the hospital, when his heart had flooded with love at the sight of her. This time, visiting, he was stunned—she was a woman now, the spitting image of Sarah back then. She didn’t rush to hug him like she used to. Just sat quiet, flustered. He chalked it up to growing up.
His holiday ended too soon. His parents were ageing, ill—he started thinking of moving back for good. They said goodbye at home; he had an early train to London, then a flight to Edinburgh.
The train was near-empty. James shut his eyes, hoping to nap. Someone sat opposite. He felt eyes on him—opened his own—and froze. Emily.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Seeing you off. I know you don’t take me seriously, but I need to say it… I love you.” No warning, no sugar-coating.
“I love you too. Like a daughter. My best mate’s girl.” He kept his voice steady. “Your parents don’t know you’re here. Get off at the next stop. I can’t miss my flight.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Not a hint of hurt. She wasn’t a girl anymore—this was a woman who knew how to play a man’s heart. No tears, just raw honesty.
“I loved your mum once. You know that. I’m thirty-seven. What happens if I say yes? You’ll be my age someday—a stunning woman, stuck with an old man. People will pity you. Men will flock. And one day, you’ll take a younger lover—”
“You think too far ahead,” she cut in, switching to *you*. “What if I don’t live to see you old? Life’s unpredictable. Either way, I’ll break your heart. So why not be happy until then?”
Damn, she’d done her homework. James faltered.
“Let’s just talk. Calls, texts. I’ve got school, then uni. Don’t think I’ll fall for some daft boy and forget you.”
“What if *I* meet someone?” He finally found his footing.
“Doubt it. You just said you love me.” The train slowed. She kissed him—properly—then stood, vanishing onto the platform before he could blink. Had he dreamed it? But his lips still tingled.
He wished she’d screamed, cried—not this. Was it love or rebellion? Did he have the right to wreck her life? But he calmed. Time would show he was right. She’d fall for a lad her age, and all would be well.
She called as he queued to board. Babbling sweet nothings. And suddenly, he knew—no woman had ever stirred him like this.
She rang daily. If she didn’t, he jittered, missing her voice. She wrote lush emails; he replied carefully—her parents might read them. Sometimes, she Skyped, twirling in her prom dress, begging his opinion. God, she was radiant.
He begged her to forget him, lied about meeting someone. She went quiet. Relief—and ache—flooded him. Then she called again. *I never believed you.* And they were back in the spin.
His dad fell ill. James moved home for good, bought a flat near them. Said nothing to Daniel or Sarah. Because of Emily.
He dodged places she might be—until they collided. Then he *knew* how badly he’d missed her. They met secretly, chastely (though it near killed him). He made her swear—*I’ll tell them myself.*
Now, the moment had come. Fancy wine for Daniel, roses for Sarah, violets for Emily (her favourite). The reunion was warm. Daniel had softened—paunch, receding hairline—while James had aged well, Sarah noted.
They reminisced. Emily sat quietly, stealing shy glances. Daniel noticed.
“Let’s step outEventually, as they stood together watching the sunset over the London skyline, James realized that love—unpredictable, messy, and utterly beyond reason—had woven their lives together in ways no one could have foreseen.
