“Hello! I knew we’d meet again someday…”
A year ago, Edward was driving home from work when he caught a fleeting glimpse of her. By the time he found the right turn and doubled back, she had vanished. Ever since, whenever melancholy or memories weighed on him, he returned to that spot, sitting in his car, hoping to see her again. He imagined stepping out and saying, “Hello! What a lovely surprise!”
They had attended the same school. Just an ordinary girl, nothing remarkable, except for being top of the class. He hadn’t paid her any mind back then—none of the girls had interested him. They’d grown up together, shared classrooms, and over the years, his female classmates had become almost like sisters. How could one fall for a sister? It was unthinkable. He’d been closer to some than others, but he’d never really *seen* her.
A-levels loomed ahead. Edward had never been overly concerned with grades, but now the pressure mounted. His mother dreamed of him studying law, following in his father’s footsteps—until his father’s sudden heart attack two years prior.
Edward had no desire to be a barrister. He wanted to work in programming, to master the cutting edge of technology, artificial intelligence. For that, he needed maths.
School had grown unbearably tedious. But university was different—there, you knew *why* you studied. Not every lesson would matter in life, but some were essential.
Mr. Wilson, their maths teacher, reminded them at the start of class that they’d be sitting a mock exam.
“Whatever mark you earn today, that’s your grade for the term. Time to buckle down. Past marks won’t save you.”
The diligent students tensed; the slackers perked up, seeing a slim chance to scrape by.
Edward breezed through the equations but stumbled on the final problem. Time slipped away, panic rising. He glanced around—who could he copy from?
In front sat Tommy Higgins, broad-shouldered and indifferent. A tap of his pen against Tommy’s back earned no response.
Behind him sat Emily Whitaker, the class genius. She never helped anyone—why would she now?
His mate James sat beside him, equally hopeless. A nudge with his paper was swatted away—”Not now, I’m busy!”
Across the aisle, Lucy Hartley worked on the same set. Asking *her* was out of the question—she’d fancied him for ages, and he’d never shake her off.
Mr. Wilson prowled the rows, hands clasped behind his back. Tall and gaunt in his austere grey suit, he stooped like a heron over their desks. He paused at Tommy’s seat, frowned at his work, and moved on.
Time was nearly up. Then—a light tap on his shoulder.
Edward turned. Emily met his gaze. *”Here,”* she mouthed. He passed his unsolved sheet and waited, heart hammering. Mr. Wilson was circling back. Why was she taking so long?
“Pay attention, Davies. Correct your errors while there’s still time,” Mr. Wilson intoned, hovering over Daniel Baker’s desk.
A slip of paper brushed Edward’s shoulder. He snatched it, scanning the neatly pencilled solution. He copied it hastily, erasing the evidence just as Mr. Wilson’s shadow fell across his desk. His stomach lurched—had he been caught? But the bell rang, salvation in its shrill peal.
“Pens down. Leave your papers on my desk,” Mr. Wilson ordered.
Edward exhaled, added his paper to the pile, and fled to the corridor.
“Thank you,” he said when Emily emerged. “You saved me.”
She shrugged. “Same paper. It was nothing.”
He’d never expected silent, studious Emily to help—unprompted, no less. She’d never so much as lent a pencil before. Lucy Hartley strode past, shooting daggers at him. Let her.
After school, he waited for Emily by the gates.
“Em, how’d you know I was stuck?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“You were fidgeting like mad. Obvious.”
“Thought I’d flunk it.”
“Law, then?” she asked.
“How’d you know? No—Mum wants it, but I’m set on programming. Future’s in tech.”
“Our mothers work together. Didn’t you know?”
“No, she never mentioned…”
They traded idle chatter as they walked.
“Lucy’s trailing us,” Emily murmured. “She’s besotted with you.”
“I know. Won’t leave me alone. What about you? What’ll you study?”
He was used to Lucy’s constant presence—background noise.
“Medicine.”
“Blimey. Saving lives?”
“Children. Paediatrics.”
That surprised him. Quiet, serious Emily Whitaker, a children’s doctor? What *did* he know about her? They reached her house. Any second, Lucy would pounce.
“Could you explain that problem? Might come up in the exams—no cheating then.”
“Fine.” She dropped her bag on the bench by her door, pulled out a notebook, and began working through the solution.
They bent over the page, heads nearly touching. Edward felt Lucy’s breath on his neck. He started to edge away—then a loose strand of Emily’s hair, escaped from her woolly hat, brushed his cheek. A jolt shot through him, breath hitching, stomach twisting. He leaned closer.
“Get it?” She glanced up.
Golden flecks sparked in her dark eyes between thick lashes. Her lips moved, but he’d gone deaf, staring as if seeing her for the first time.
“Well?” she pressed.
He flushed. He’d been too busy studying *her* to listen.
“Nope,” he admitted. “Fancy the cinema?”
“You asked for help, and now—” She shoved her notebook away. “Forget it.”
Before he could protest, she vanished inside.
“I’d *love* to go,” Lucy simpered, materialising beside him. He’d forgotten she was there.
She babbled on, but all he saw were those gold-specked eyes, those soft lips.
“Piss off, Lucy,” he muttered, walking away. For once, she let him.
The next day, he waited for Emily again.
“More maths?” she teased.
“No. I fancy you,” he blurted, flushing. Not what he’d planned to say.
She studied him. Kids shoved past, friends called out—he barely noticed. Only her.
“Come on,” she said suddenly.
“Where?”
“The cinema. You *did* ask.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
He mentally counted the notes in his pocket. Would it be enough? At her door, she paused.
“Meet back here in half an hour.”
He sprinted home, dumped his bag, scrounged up his cash. Not much.
“Why’re you hovering?” His gran frowned from the kitchen.
“Need a tenner. Skint for the pictures.”
“Eat first. Wash up.”
He wolfed down his dinner, kissed her cheek, and bolted.
Fifteen minutes later, he waited at Emily’s door.
Just like that, love found him. Emily consumed his thoughts, waking or sleeping. He aced that mock exam.
Now he waited for her every day, walking her home. For her birthday, he gave her flowers and a small white teddy bear. He sought her in every room, felt her gaze like sunlight on his skin.
After A-levels, Edward applied to two university courses. Got into computer science, as he’d hoped. Luck was with him. Emily went to med school.
They met less often, sharing updates between kisses that left them breathless. He’d have gone further, but Emily held back. He could wait. They had time.
After second year, their old schoolmates arranged a reunion. Edward didn’t miss the others, but Emily would be there.
She never showed. He nearly left—until Lucy latched onto him, clinging through the train ride. The “country house” was a cottage with a wood stove and a hayloft. They grilled meat, tossed salads, cracked open wine and whisky.
They drank, sang, laughed past midnight. The girls took the house; the lads climbed to the hayloft. The night was warm, stars bright.
Edward hadn’t drunk much, but exhaustion and the country air pulled him under.
A warmth pressed against him in the dark, lips on his. *”Emily—you came—”* his foggy mind whispered. He rolled over, pulling her close.
“Quiet,” Lucy’s voice hissed. “Don’t wake the others.”
He recoiled, but she clung like ivy, her tongue pushing past his lips.
He knew what was happening, but the haze and months of longing dulled his resistance.
Dawn broke. Lucy was gone. He crept down, drank from the bucket by the door, and fled to the station. *”Nothing happened. She’s lying. Emily must never know,”* he chanted silently.
He called Emily from the train. No answer. Then Lucy rangHe stepped inside, heart full of hope, knowing that love, despite time and mistakes, had finally brought them back together.
