Oh, why did he have to look back? Should’ve just walked past…
When we make decisions, we convince ourselves it’s the right thing, find excuses. At first, we torture ourselves with doubts, afraid of karma, of facing consequences for what we’ve done. But nothing happens—we calm down, grow certain we made the right call, and move on, trying not to dwell on it.
Then one day, karma comes knocking. Or maybe it’s just regret, late to the party…
They met in the early 2000s. James walked up to the bus stop and waited. Not far from him stood a girl—ordinary, like so many others. But his heart gave a sudden thump against his ribs. *”The bus will come, she’ll leave, and I’ll never see her again.”* He even glanced back. A bus *was* idling at the traffic lights. His pulse quickened, pushing him. Before he knew it, he was beside her.
“Hi. Which bus are you waiting for?”
She looked at him, scanning for recognition, while he stared into her eyes and knew—he’d never forget them, never sleep soundly again.
“I’m James. You’re not waiting for the 204, are you?”
“No,” she finally smiled. “The 30.”
He exhaled in relief. No bus in sight yet—so he had time.
“You live in Southside?” he tried again.
“No, just visiting my nan.”
“In a hurry?” he asked, bracing himself.
“Not really. Why?” She studied him with curiosity.
His voice brightened. “Fancy walking to the next stop together?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded with a grin.
His heart pounded, equal parts nerves and joy. They strolled to the next stop… then the next… until they reached the neighborhood where Emily’s nan lived, neither noticing the distance or time slipping by.
When Emily stopped outside her nan’s house, they’d already shared lifetimes’ worth of stories, like old friends. Before parting, they swapped numbers and addresses. Neither doubted they’d found something rare.
For a year, they lived from one meeting to the next until they married. They stayed with Emily’s nan at first, then—once they’d graduated, started careers—took out a mortgage on a proper flat. Two bedrooms, thinking ahead.
When Emily said she was pregnant, James’s heart slammed into his ribs like that first day, shouting: *”Well? Get moving, Dad!”* He grinned like an idiot. *A father.* Unexpected. Terrifying. Amazing.
Life shifted gears. Suddenly, every conversation was about baby names, crib positions, pram brands… James even stopped random mums on the street for pram advice. They gladly schooled him on weaning and teething, too.
Friends with kids offloaded outgrown babygrows and tiny socks. The couple counted down the days, impatient to meet their little one. Finally, a blue-eyed boy arrived. By the time Emily came home, the nursery held a pristine cot, stacks of babygrows, nappies, and a state-of-the-art pram ready for adventures.
The flat erupted with newborn cries, fussing relatives, and cooing the day James carried that tiny bundle inside.
At the first check-up, Emily noticed the pediatrician’s tight expression. “Is something wrong?” she whispered.
The doctor ordered tests. Then, the diagnosis. Emily sobbed; James clenched his jaw, murmuring empty comforts. They refused to believe it. *Young, healthy—how?*
“Difficult labour. Birth injury,” the doctor said wearily.
Days bled into weeks of grieving a future that’d never be. James’s mum suggested “placing” the boy in care—spare themselves the burden. They could try again for a healthy child.
James couldn’t meet Emily’s tear-filled eyes but said firmly, “We’re keeping Alfie.”
The boy grew. Smiled. Seemed fine. They hoped the doctors were wrong—until Alfie’s legs, too weak to stand, shattered that illusion. No guarantees he’d ever walk. *”Be grateful his mind’s intact.”*
Therapy, exercises, rehab—Emily quit her job to care for him. James’s salary vanished into medical bills and mortgage payments. Their parents helped where they could.
One weekend, Emily asked James to take Alfie to the park while she cleaned.
“Swap?” he said. “You take him. I’ll clean. It’s just… other kids running around, mums holding their hands. The stares when they see Alfie in a pram—he’s too big for it now. I can’t stand it.”
First red flag. Many followed.
Later, Emily suggested selling the flat for a house. “We’ll add ramps—let Alfie move freely. It’d be better for everyone.”
“Yeah. You’re right,” James said carefully, avoiding her eyes. “But it won’t fix much. Em… I can’t do this.”
She let him go. Her eyes screamed panic, but she didn’t cry. He buried the guilt—her facing it all alone now.
———
**Seventeen years later**
After work, James browsed for his dad’s birthday gift. Sixty-five this year. Finding nothing, he headed out. Ahead, a woman in a green trouser suit walked—her figure elegant, her perfume subtle. *”God, she’s stunning.”* He hummed an old tune, trailing her.
She paused, rummaging in her bag. James passed her—then stopped. *Had to see her face.*
She looked up. He’d know her anywhere. His feet rooted to the spot; his heart punched his ribs.
Lately, he’d thought of her often. Wandered past their old flat, slowing, hoping to “bump into her.”
Emily straightened. She recognized him too. Her lips twitched—no smile.
“Hi, Emily,” James said, stepping closer.
She’d softened with age—it suited her. Makeup accentuated her still-lovely face. Shoulder-length curls bounced lightly. Only her eyes were unchanged.
“Hi, James,” she smiled.
No spark there now. No tremor like that first day, or when she’d told him she was pregnant. Just polite curiosity.
He knew he’d gone to seed—soft belly, thinning hair, silver at his temples. But his blood fizzed like champagne.
“In a rush?” he asked, déjà vu hitting.
“Not really.”
“Fancy a coffee, then?” He nodded toward a café. “We’re blocking the pavement.”
She agreed. Now, she could look at him calmly—no flutters. This wasn’t *her* James anymore.
“You look incredible,” he said once they’d sat. He couldn’t help staring. *”God, she’s glorious.”*
“Silver suits you,” she replied. “How’ve you been? Married?”
“Divorced. Two daughters—with their mum. They call when they need money.” He chuckled weakly. “You?”
“No. Just popped in after work to get Alfie some trainers.”
“Alfie… walks?” James asked carefully.
“He does. Not like most. Burns through shoes, though.” Pride warmed her voice. “He just graduated. Works from home—coding. Runs a blog. Our main breadwinner, actually.”
James blinked. “Never thought… That’s brilliant.”
“Took everything we had. When you left, Mum retired to care for him. I worked. Sold our flats, bought a house. Dad built ramps—passed three years ago. Mum’s still with us.”
“You’re amazing,” James breathed. “Christ, Em, I’m sorry. I chickened out. Felt like life was passing me by—”
“Don’t.” She cut him off. “I forgave you years ago.”
“Can I see Alfie?”
Emily studied him. “I won’t stop you. But… he hasn’t forgiven you.”
James sagged. “Right. Look, if I could rewind—”
“Don’t.” Her phone buzzed—a muffled ringtone. “That’s Alfie.” She answered. “Lost me? Just shopping. Be home soon… Yeah, got it.”
She stood. “Gotta run. Was nice seeing you.” Her gaze lingered—waiting.
“Need a lift?”
“Oh, no.” She was already moving.
He watched her leave, his coffee cooling beside hers. Then—suddenly—he bolted after her, bursting outside just as her car pulled away.
———
At his bachelor flat, his Labrador greeted him, tail thumping.
“Hold on, mate,” James muttered, sinking onto the sofa. The dog sat patiently, watching.
He dialed his eldest. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Just… missed you. Mum good?”
“She’s fine. New boyfriend. Jules is off camping.”
“Visit soon?”
“Sorry, no time. I’ll call.” A kiss noise, then dial tone.
James sighed. “Too busy for me.” The Lab whined. “Your dad’s a washout. Walked out on the love of his life.He buried his face in the Lab’s fur, whispering, “Should’ve never let her go,” as the dog licked away the first hot tear.
