Nadia stepped out of the shop and was descending the steps when a sleek red car pulled up in front of her. A young woman climbed out just as a gust of wind caught the hem of her dress, billowing it out like a bell. A strand of hair whipped across her face, which she flicked away with a practised toss of her head before smoothing her skirt and walking past.
“Lena?! Lena!” Nadia called out.
The woman turned, scanning the street for the source of the voice before her gaze landed on Nadia. For a moment, they just stared at each other.
“You don’t recognise me?” Nadia walked back up towards the shop entrance. “It’s me, Nadia Bennett.”
“Nadia. Oh, honestly, I didn’t recognise you. Long time no see,” Lena said coolly.
“I saw you walking past—” Nadia tugged her away from the doors. “Let’s step aside, we’re in the way. Look at you!”
Lena offered a thin, indulgent smile.
“You live around here?” she asked.
“No, I work nearby. Just popped out on my lunch break. What about you?”
“Why are we standing here chatting like strangers? You’ve got time, right? Let’s grab a coffee—who knows when we’ll bump into each other again?”
“Alright,” Nadia agreed.
They ducked into a half-empty café next door, the sort of place more suited to hurried takeaways than lingering conversations. They slid into a table by the window. Lena waved over the waitress—a disinterested young woman chewing gum—who slapped down laminated menus with a sigh.
“No need,” Lena pushed them away. “Two salads, two Victoria sponge slices, and tea. Quickly, please.”
She turned back to Nadia, smirking as the waitress sauntered off.
“So, how’ve you been?” Lena adjusted herself on the plastic chair.
“Fine. Was married, briefly. No kids. Looks like you’re doing well,” Nadia replied.
“Can’t complain.” Lena laughed and flashed her right hand, the wedding ring glinting on her finger.
“Kids?” Nadia asked.
The waitress returned with tiny plates of cake, teacups, and a small floral teapot.
“Hey—are your parents still around?” Lena asked abruptly once they were alone again.
“Dad passed a few years ago. Mum… she’s still here, but she’s not the same since he died.” Nadia twisted her cup on its saucer.
Lena poured tea. The scent of mint drifted between them.
“Shame. I always liked your parents. Unlike my mum—never happy, never a kind word. No wonder Dad left. Your house was so peaceful.” Lena’s eyes glazed over with memory.
Nadia sighed.
***
They’d lived in the same building growing up—Nadia on the fourth floor, Danny on the third. First nursery, then primary school together. Danny’s father was a drinker, prone to shouting matches that sent him bolting up to Nadia’s flat.
Then, in Year 10, a new girl arrived. Parents divorced, flat swapped, freshly moved in next door. Lena—bright, pretty, impossible to miss—immediately caught Danny’s eye. Nadia seethed quietly. They used to walk to school together. Now…
“What’s wrong? Forget something?” Nadia asked when Danny stopped dead in the middle of the courtyard.
“Just wait a sec.”
“For what?” she snapped.
Then Lena burst out of the neighbouring building, grinning as she sprinted over—eyes only for Danny. Around her, he transformed, suddenly all jokes and charm, a version of himself Nadia hardly recognised. Lena laughed at everything he said. Nadia trudged beside them in silence.
After school, Danny would sprint to the lockers, already holding Lena’s coat before she’d even shrugged it off. They’d walk home together, forgetting Nadia existed. At breaktime, Lena would chat as if nothing had changed.
Once, the three went to the cinema. When the lights came up, Nadia saw their fingers laced together. They walked home hand in hand, Nadia trailing behind. Neither noticed. She never went out with them again.
After school, they scattered—Nadia to university for economics, Danny to an engineering college, Lena to fashion school.
That winter, Nadia caught flu. Snow dusted the pavement; Christmas lights flickered outside. Peering from her window, she spotted Lena hurrying towards her building. Heart leaping, Nadia flung the door open—only for footsteps to pause one floor below. Danny’s voice floated up: “Finally…” A door slammed.
Nadia sank onto the hallway bench, face burning. So Lena visited while his parents were at work. The thought of what they were doing made her physically ill.
Later, her mother returned from the shops with news—Danny’s mum had complained that her husband drank harder than ever, and Danny had moved out. Rented a flat. With Lena.
In her final year, Nadia married a classmate. They shared his mother’s house. The woman meddled endlessly, instructing Nadia on wifely duties. Alex was a mama’s boy.
“Alex, why did you marry me?” Nadia asked once. “No wife could ever replace your mother.”
He shrugged. “Mum knows best. You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to. Live with her, then.” She packed her things.
Another shrug. He turned back to his computer. The divorce was quick. No kids, no shared assets.
She only saw Danny once after that—at his father’s funeral. No chance to talk. His mother remarried soon after.
***
Now, Lena sat across from her in the café, radiant as ever. The waitress finally brought their salads. Lena ate hungrily; Nadia nibbled cake and sipped lukewarm tea.
“Danny?” she asked.
Lena froze, fork halfway to her mouth. “Still hung up on him?” She leaned back, amused.
“You know, I used to envy you. You had that perfect family, parents who cared. All I had was my looks. Danny fell for it so easily.” Lena shrugged. “But we were too different. Got bored fast. He wanted marriage, kids. Me? I wanted to live, not scrape by till payday. Now I’ve got a wealthy husband and everything I could want.”
“And Danny?”
“Why so fixated? He bought a tiny one-bed flat. Never earned much. Lives alone, last I heard. So the coast is clear. Honestly, what did you ever see in him?” Lena’s stare was unblinking.
Nadia checked her watch. “Sorry, I’ve got to get back.” She stood abruptly.
She needed air, space from Lena’s scrutiny.
“Suit yourself.” Lena sipped her tea and grimaced.
Nadia reached for her purse.
“Put that away. My treat.” Lena waved her off like a queen dismissing a servant.
Nadia turned without goodbye—then stopped at the door and marched back.
“Forget something?” Lena smirked.
“His address. Write it down,” Nadia demanded, staring her down.
For a second, Lena faltered. Then she sighed, scribbled on a napkin, and slid it over.
“Take it. Good luck,” she said mockingly.
Nadia crushed the napkin in her fist and left. At her desk, she smoothed it out.
“What now? Just march up to his door?” Lena’s voice seemed to taunt her from memory.
“Yes. Exactly,” she muttered aloud.
“Did you say something?” a coworker asked.
Nadia tucked the napkin away and logged in.
***
Autumn leaves crackled underfoot as she walked home. This year’s Indian summer had been unseasonably warm. Entering her old neighbourhood, she glanced automatically at Danny’s third-floor windows. Memories flooded back—school walks, him fleeing his father’s rages, all those years wasted pining.
“Stop being pathetic,” she ordered herself, spinning on her heel—right into Danny.
“Nadia? What are you doing here?”
Her heart leapt.
“I—” She scrambled for an excuse. “Visiting a colleague. She wasn’t in. You look awful.”
Stubble, bloodshot eyes—he was ill.
“Managed to catch a cold in this heat. Just ran out for milk.” He held up the bag as proof.
“You should be in bed. Come on.” She steered him inside.
The lift shuddered up to the eighth floor. His flat was sparse, bachelor-practical. She hung up her coat, raided his empty fridge, unearthed potatoes under the sink, and fried them. Boiled the milk, fed him, sent him to bed.
“Rest. I’ll tidy up.”
When she checked later, he was asleep, forehead damp—fever broken. She watched him, chest aching. Same Danny she’d always loved. Quietly, she slipped out.
“You’re late,” her mother called when she got home.
“Ran into Lena.”
“I thought you two weren’t friends anymore.”
“Just coffee.” Nadia flopped onto the sofa.
“How is she?”
“Married. Fancy car. GorgeThe next evening, as she stood outside Danny’s door, heart pounding, it swung open before she could knock—and there he was, holding a single red rose with a sheepish grin that told her he’d been waiting all day.
