“Loves me? Loves me not? Or just loves herself?”
“You can’t decide? What do you mean?” Emily stared at her old school friend with such disapproval, as if she’d confessed to a crime. “If you’re torn between two men, you don’t really love either. It’s as plain as day.”
“Maybe it’s plain to you, but not to me,” sighed Emma. “I like them both—in different ways. Each has his own strengths.”
“You just love yourself more than either of them,” Emily pressed on. “Someone who truly loves doesn’t play with other people’s feelings. It’s unfair. It’s cruel.”
“Easy for you to judge,” Emma muttered, turning away. “Not everyone’s as perfect as you. I’m still learning how to love. I haven’t got the experience. On Monday, I’m sure it’s the first one. By Tuesday, it’s the second. Wednesday? Back to the first. I can’t figure it out. It’s not funny. They’re both good men. Both familiar.”
“Flip a coin if you can’t decide,” Emily grumbled. “Better than this awful back-and-forth. At least your conscience will be clear.”
“Thanks for the advice. Go toss your coins in a wishing fountain, maybe they’ll bring you luck. And don’t forget—you might’ve never had a real choice. Or at least, no one worth choosing.”
“I’d never drag it out like this!” Emily shot back. “I’ve got James. He loves me, and I love him. It’s simple.”
“Oh, sure. Wishing you both the best,” Emma scoffed.
…
Three years later, Emily sat alone in a half-empty pub, tears streaming down her face. A glass of lukewarm wine sat untouched in front of her. That old conversation played on repeat in her mind.
“Never say never.” Who would’ve thought she’d end up the same way? Now, she was the one agonising over two men—her, the same Emily who used to dish out advice like it was nothing.
She’d been with Daniel for over a year. Everything seemed perfect. Reliable, clever, attentive—the kind of man you’d dream of. And yes, he was serious about her.
Then, out of nowhere, James reappeared. Yes, that James. Her ex. The one she used to date before he grew jealous, suspicious, picking fights over nothing.
They’d split when it became clear—he no longer looked at her with love. She’d become invisible to him. Everything was wrong: her words, her clothes, where she looked… Then silence. The break-up. The ache. Months alone.
And suddenly—a call. “Hey, how’ve you been? I’ve got no one to talk to. Fancy meeting up?”
She went. Habit, maybe. Or to prove to herself it was long over.
But there was James—lost, broken. Jobless, with an ill mother, no one else in his life. And he talked. Endlessly. And she listened. And pitied him.
She didn’t mention Daniel. Didn’t say she might be happy. That someone was waiting for her.
James started texting. Calling. Asking to meet. They saw each other more often. Innocently, at first. But then…
With Daniel, everything stayed the same. He was there. Caring. Bringing little gifts. Brushing her hand. Looking at her—that warm, adoring look. Always.
But James… It was like stepping back in time. Nights out, old friends, gigs, road trips. With him, it was like being young again. Daniel didn’t get it. He was serious. Busy. An introvert.
Emily was torn. Her heart ached. Daniel was the future. James—someone she still felt sorry for. And maybe… still loved?
She replayed the choices in her head, over and over. How to tell the truth? How to choose?
One evening, when she couldn’t take it anymore, she called Emma. To apologise. To beg forgiveness for those old words.
“I’m sorry about that conversation… I get it now. How you must’ve felt.”
“Sorry for what?” Emma sounded genuinely surprised. “I don’t even remember who I was choosing. That was ages ago.”
“Now I’m in your shoes. Stuck between two. I can’t decide. It’s terrifying.”
“Do you really think, if you loved someone, you’d be ‘stuck’? You don’t love either. You love yourself. If someone did this to you—dated two people at once—would you still love them?”
“No one,” Emily whispered.
“There’s your answer. No one. Because that’s what people do when they only love themselves. Emily, if one of them truly mattered to you—look at him. Imagine him gone. Picture him walking away. Never seeing his smile again, his hand in yours…”
“Daniel,” the name burst from her lips.
Goosebumps prickled her skin. She imagined it. No more warm eyes, no patience, no love.
And in that instant, she knew—she knew exactly who she loved.
P.S. Sometimes, to hear your own heart, you just have to stop lying to yourself.
