Lydia stood outside Simon’s flat, nervously fidgeting with the strap of her handbag. Two and a half years ago, she had walked out on him, slamming the door behind her, convinced that Paul, his wealthy friend with a flashy car, would give her the life she dreamed of. But Paul wasn’t who he seemed, and now Lydia had decided to come back. “Simon always loved me,” she thought. “He’ll take me back—where else would he go?” She pressed the doorbell, smoothed her hair, and forced a smile. The door swung open, and Simon’s surprised “Well, look who it is! What brings you here?” made her feel a surge of confidence.
“I’m back,” she grinned, inhaling the scent of fried potatoes and sausages. “Cooking dinner? Smells lovely.” Simon frowned. “Back? To me?” Lydia nodded, but his next question threw her off: “Sorry, we’ve already eaten. I won’t invite you in.”
“‘We’?” she repeated, her stomach tightening. “Who’s ‘we’?” Just then, a woman stepped out of the kitchen. Lydia squinted—then gasped. It was Olivia, her old friend, the one she’d sipped bubbly with while plotting how to leave Simon.
Lydia and Simon had married five years ago, but their marriage was a battlefield. She craved the finer things—posh restaurants, holidays abroad, designer dresses. Simon, an engineer at a factory, earned a modest wage, though he tried his best. His parents sent groceries from their village to help save money, but Lydia scoffed, “I don’t want their milk and cheese!” She blew her own money on clothes and a new phone on credit, yet demanded more from Simon. “You’re a pauper,” she’d snap. “Why did I ever get with you?” He begged her to tidy the flat, but she refused. “It’s your place, not mine.”
Everything changed when Lydia fell for Paul. Charming and loaded, he wined and dined her, promising the moon. Olivia had warned her, “Lyd, Paul’s a player—think it through!” But Lydia wouldn’t listen. She packed her bags, tossed Simon the keys, and left with Paul without so much as a goodbye. Olivia stayed behind, cleaning up the mess Lydia left. Lydia had laughed then: “Take Simon if you want him—he’s yours!” She never imagined those words would come true.
Life with Paul was no fairy tale. He was generous but domineering, and his “nights out” with other women wore her down. Two years later, she heard Simon had been promoted, bought a car, and stayed single. “He must be waiting for me,” she decided, scribbling a note for Paul and leaving. But now, standing in the doorway, she stared at Olivia, who simply said, “Hello, love. Why the shock? You gave him to me.”
Lydia’s face burned. “Are you two married?” she choked out. Simon nodded. “Yes, Lydia. And we’re happy. What did you expect?” She faltered. “I thought… maybe we could—” Olivia cut in gently. “Lyd, you’ve got your parents. They’d be glad to see you. Simon and I have things to do. Goodbye.” The door shut, leaving Lydia alone on the landing, clutching her bag.
She remembered Olivia cleaning that flat, baking cakes, visiting her gran. Back then, Lydia had mocked her “simplicity.” Now she saw: Olivia gave Simon what she never could—care, comfort, love. She considered crawling back to Paul, but the note she’d left burned that bridge. Her parents? They’d distanced themselves, hurt by her choices. She slumped onto a bench outside, the world crumbling around her. “What have I done?” she whispered, but no answer came.
Inside, Simon and Olivia set the table for dinner. A month later, they welcomed twins, and Simon’s parents, adoring their new daughter-in-law, couldn’t have been happier. Lydia, though, was left with nothing but regret. Life, as Olivia had warned, doesn’t forgive those who throw away the real for the illusion.
