Olivia and Grace had been inseparable since childhood, sharing the same nursery and later the same school desk. As they grew, Olivia blossomed into a stunning beauty, effortlessly drawing admirers wherever she went. Grace, however, was the quiet one—plain, unremarkable, the kind of girl who faded into a crowd.
After school, Grace enrolled in nursing college, determined to care for others. Olivia scoffed at degrees—she took a beauty course instead, landing a job at a salon, sculpting brows and painting lashes for women who wanted to look like her.
They were each other’s anchors, weathering breakups and heartaches. Not a day passed without them meeting or chatting on the phone—usually Olivia talking, Grace listening, offering sympathy when yet another admirer walked away or celebrating a new flame.
Then, as so often happens between friends, they fell for the same man.
Grace met Daniel first. He was no heartthrob, just an ordinary bloke—someone she could’ve built a quiet, steady love with. But life never takes the easy path, does it?
Rain had lashed London hours earlier, leaving glistening puddles in its wake. Grace, rounding one such obstacle on the pavement, gasped as an electric scooter hurtled toward her. The rider—eyes fixed ahead—seemed oblivious to her existence. At the last second, she yelped and leapt aside—straight into the murky water.
“Bloody menace!” An old woman shook her gnarled finger at the rider. “Nearly knocked her over! Look where you’re going, lad!”
The young man braked and turned. Grace, now standing on dry pavement, stared at her ruined tights in dismay.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’d have swerved—saw you clear as day.”
Grace barely registered his apology, too focused on avoiding another splash.
“Here, hop on,” he offered. “I’ll give you a lift.”
“Leave me alone,” she muttered.
“Come on, I said sorry. Where to?”
“Browning Street. Number ten.”
She hesitated, then gripped the handlebars as the scooter glided forward, wind whipping her hair. The thrill of speed sent her heart racing. She’d never ridden one before—fear had always held her back. But with him, she felt safe.
They pulled up outside her building. He leaned in, breath warm against her ear. “Which door?”
The whisper sent shivers down her spine.
“Third.”
He stopped just short of the step, sparing her another drenching.
“Cheers,” Grace said.
Their eyes met—his warm, crinkled at the edges. She noticed everything then—the golden tan, the kindness in his gaze, the smile that made her pulse stutter.
“I’m Daniel,” he said.
“Grace.”
He rubbed his neck. “Look, I feel rotten about this. Fancy catching a film sometime? All my mates are away. Gets lonely on your own.”
She shrugged. “Alright.”
“Great! Tomorrow, seven sharp. Right here.” With a grin, he zipped off into the maze of flats.
Grace floated inside, cheeks burning.
“You look like you’ve won the lottery,” her mum teased.
“Just stepped in a puddle. Need to wash up.” She handed over the bread and locked herself in the bathroom.
All evening, she replayed his voice, his smile. The next day, she pulled on jeans and trainers, certain he’d arrive on that scooter.
“Off out?” her mum called.
“Seeing Olivia.”
“Be back by ten!”
Daniel wasn’t there. Grace’s stomach knotted. Of course he’d forgotten. She cursed herself for hoping—
“Hey!”
She spun. Daniel stood there, grinning. Relief and embarrassment flooded her at once.
“Hop on. Film starts in twenty.”
She climbed aboard, gripping the handles. The breeze, his chest against her back—she’d never been happier.
After the film, they walked home, chatting easily.
“Who was that bloke?” Olivia demanded the next morning. “Spill.”
Grace tensed. “Mum told you?”
“Relax, she didn’t. So? Who is he?”
For once, Grace wanted to boast. Olivia had boys falling at her feet—this was Grace’s first.
“Just some lad,” she lied.
He was anything but.
That evening, Daniel waited with no scooter. They wandered the streets—only to collide with Olivia, as if she’d been lying in wait.
“Hi!” Olivia beamed at Daniel.
He stared back, transfixed.
Grace trailed behind unnoticed as they walked ahead. She went home in tears, phone switched off.
Next day, Olivia arrived, contrite. “I’ve fallen for him,” she admitted.
Grace couldn’t stay angry. They stayed friends—even after Daniel and Olivia married.
Grace qualified, working at a private clinic. Olivia kept her salon job for fun—Daniel earned well.
They celebrated birthdays, New Year’s, barbecues. Grace’s feelings for Daniel only grew, but she never let it show.
Then, one midnight call shattered everything.
“Do you know what time it is?” Grace snapped.
“Olivia’s dead,” Daniel rasped.
Grace sat bolt upright. “What?”
“Coming back from the cottage… She wanted to drive… A tow truck came out of nowhere—”
“Where are you?”
She threw on scrubs, rushed to the hospital. Daniel lay motionless, wired to machines.
“Can’t feel my legs,” he whispered. “Should’ve been me.”
Grace found his doctor. “Surgery went well. Nerves are intact. Now we wait.”
She helped with the funeral, visited Daniel daily. He spiralled—refusing food, pushing her away.
“He needs rehab. A carer,” the doctor said.
His parents baulked at the cost, hired someone cheap.
Two weeks later, his mother called, trembling. “She robbed us. Took everything—money, jewellery—then vanished.”
Grace raced over. Police had been and gone. The carer had drugged Daniel, stolen what she could.
Daniel refused to speak, to eat.
“Grace,” his mother begged. “Talk to him.”
“Stop this! It’s not your fault!” Grace pleaded.
“Who wants me like this? Should’ve died with Olivia.”
“I do.”
His laugh was bitter. “Out of pity?”
She snapped. “You think this is new? I’ve loved you since that stupid scooter ride! I let you marry her—watched you both—cried myself to sleep! I’ll get you walking again. Then I’ll leave.”
She quit days, worked nights. No more carers—just her, pushing through his pain.
Slowly, sensation returned. She bought equipment, forced him to pedal through agony.
Then—he stood. Seconds only, but it was enough. Soon, he shuffled on crutches.
Grace stopped visiting. He hadn’t acknowledged her confession.
Her mother set up dates—Grace refused them all.
Then, one evening, she stormed into the kitchen—ready to eject another suitor—and froze.
Daniel sat at the table.
“Grace,” her mum said hastily. “We were just—”
“What are you doing here?”
“Walking now. With a cane.” He stood unsteadily. “Grace… I heard you that day. I was just scared—thought you’d leave like everyone else. But when you stopped coming…” He pulled out a ring. “Marry me?”
Grace stared, silent.
“Too late?” His voice cracked. “Is there someone else?”
“I waited so long…”
Two years later, Daniel walked unaided, just a slight limp. Grace, heavily pregnant, waddled beside him on their daily strolls.
A person can do anything—if someone believes in them.
