Long ago, in a quiet town in England, I knew our paths would cross again someday.
A year earlier, Edward had been driving home from work when he spotted her by chance. By the time he found the turning and doubled back, she had already vanished. Since then, whenever sorrow or memories weighed on him, he returned to that same spot, sitting in his car, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. He imagined stepping out, greeting her with a smile: *”Hello! What a surprise seeing you here…”*
They had been classmates once—just an ordinary girl, not particularly remarkable, except for being top of the class. Back then, he hardly noticed her. Girls didn’t interest him much in those days. After years of growing up side by side, all his female classmates felt almost like sisters. How could he fall for one of them? Impossible. He was closer with the lads, of course—that was different. Some girls he spoke to more, some less. But her? He hadn’t given her a second thought.
A-levels loomed ahead. Edward, who had never fretted over grades, suddenly felt the pressure. His mother dreamed of him studying law, becoming a barrister like his father, who had passed away two years before from a sudden heart attack.
Edward had no desire to follow in his father’s footsteps. He wanted to study programming, delve into the world of artificial intelligence and modern technology. But getting into university required maths, and maths required effort.
School had grown unbearably dull. But university? That would be different. He’d know why he was studying—not just for the sake of pointless knowledge, most of which he’d never need again.
Mr. Thompson, their maths teacher, reminded them at the start of class that a test awaited them.
*”The mark you earn today will stand for the term,”* he said, adjusting his spectacles. *”Exams are coming. Get used to it. Past marks won’t save you now.”*
The diligent students tensed; the weaker ones brightened, seeing a slim chance to scrape a decent grade.
Edward breezed through the equations, but the final problem stumped him. Time was slipping away, frustration creeping in. He glanced around—who could he copy from? The burly lad, Watson, sat ahead. Unlikely to help, but Edward tapped his back with the tip of his pen. No reaction.
Behind him sat Emily Whitaker, the top student. She never helped anyone.
His mate, Charlie, beside him was no maths genius either. Edward nudged him with his paper, only for Charlie to wave him off—*”Leave off, I’m barely scraping through myself.”*
Across the aisle, Rebecca was working on the same test—but asking her would be risky. She fancied him, and she’d never let him hear the end of it.
Mr. Thompson prowled the aisles, hands clasped behind his back. Tall and lean in his tweed jacket, he stooped slightly, peering over shoulders like a heron inspecting fish. He paused at Watson’s desk, shook his head, and moved on.
Time was nearly up when Edward felt a light tap on his shoulder.
He turned—Emily’s eyes met his. *”Come on,”* she mouthed. He passed her his paper, heart hammering as Mr. Thompson neared their row. *What’s taking her so long?*
*”Harding, check your work. There’s still time,”* Mr. Thompson said, stopping beside another student.
Then—a folded paper dropped onto Edward’s desk. He snatched it up, his eyes racing over the solution scribbled in pencil at the bottom. He copied it feverishly, just as Mr. Thompson’s shadow fell across his desk. His stomach lurched—*Did he see?* But the bell rang, salvation in its shrill cry.
*”Pens down. Bring your papers to the front,”* Mr. Thompson called.
Edward exhaled, adding his paper to the pile before slipping into the corridor.
*”Thanks. You saved me,”* he said when Emily emerged.
*”It’s nothing. Same paper—wasn’t hard for me.”*
He never expected Emily Whitaker—quiet, aloof—to bail him out. She never helped anyone, yet there she was. Rebecca swept past, shooting daggers with her eyes. Let her glare.
After school, Edward waited for Emily by the gates.
*”How’d you know I was stuck?”* he asked, falling into step beside her.
*”You were fidgeting. Obvious.”*
*”I thought I’d scrape a C.”*
*”Law, then?”* she asked.
*”How’d you—? No. Mum’s set on it. But I want to do computer science. That’s where the future is.”*
*”Our mothers work together. Didn’t you know?”*
*”No. Mine never mentioned it.”*
They walked, filling the silence with trivial chatter.
*”Rebecca’s watching us,”* Emily said suddenly. *”Back’s itching from her stare. She fancies you.”*
*”Tell me about it. Won’t leave me alone. And you? What’ll you study?”*
*”Medicine.”*
*”Wow. Saving lives?”*
*”Children. I want to be a paediatrician.”*
That surprised him. Serious, unreadable Emily Whitaker—wanting to work with kids? He barely knew her. They reached her house. Soon as she left, Rebecca would pounce.
*”Explain that problem, would you? If it comes up in the A-levels, you won’t be there to save me.”*
*”Fine.”* She perched on the bench by her door, pulled out a notebook, and began explaining.
They bent over the page, heads nearly touching. Edward felt Rebecca’s breath by his ear—but then, a loose strand of Emily’s hair brushed his cheek. A spark shot through him, his breath hitching.
*”Got it?”* she asked, looking up. Golden flecks danced in her dark eyes. Her lips moved, but Edward heard nothing, stunned by the sight of her.
*”Well?”* she repeated sharply.
He’d been staring, lost. *”Er—no.”* He blurted out, *”Fancy the cinema?”*
*”You asked for help. I waste my time, and you—”* She shoved her notebook away. Before he could react, she was gone inside.
*”I’ll go to the cinema,”* Rebecca purred. He’d forgotten she was there.
*”Piss off,”* he muttered, walking away, Emily’s face haunting him.
The next day, he waited for her again.
*”Another problem?”* she mocked.
*”No. I fancy you.”* The words tumbled out. He hadn’t planned them.
Emily studied him. Year Sevens shouted, mates called his name—but all he saw was her, those golden speckled eyes.
*”Come on,”* she said.
*”Where?”*
*”The cinema. You asked yesterday. Forgotten already?”*
*”Course not. Let’s go.”*
He mentally tallied the coins in his bag. Would it be enough?
At her door, she paused. *”Meet back here in half an hour.”*
Edward sprinted home, rifled through his things. Not enough.
*”Not even changed?”* His nan appeared from the kitchen.
*”Need five quid. Short for the pictures.”*
*”Eat first. Wash your hands.”*
He scarfed down his meal, barely chewing. Nan sighed but handed him a tenner.
*”Thanks, Nan!”* He kissed her cheek and bolted.
Fifteen minutes later, he stood outside Emily’s flat.
That was how Edward fell in love—properly, for the first time. Emily consumed his thoughts. He ached for her awake and asleep. The test? He got an A.
Every day after, he waited for her at school, walked 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 fire on his back.
After school, Edward applied to two university courses. He got into computer science, as he’d wanted. Luck was with him. Emily went to medical school.
They met less now, sharing stolen kisses until their lips burned. He wanted more—she didn’t. He’d wait. They had time.
After second year, there was a reunion. Edward only cared about seeing Emily.
But she didn’t come. He nearly left—until Rebecca latched onto him, clinging like a burr.
The gathering was at a countryside cottage, sausages sizzling on a grill, laughter and cheap wine. They sang, drank, fooled around until late. The girls took the beds inside; the lads crashed in the hayloft.
Edward hadn’t drunk much, but the wine and fresh air knocked him out.
Sometime in the night, warmth pressed against him, lips on his. *”Emily… You came…”* His foggy mind stirred. He pulled her close—
*”Quiet. Don’t wakeAt dawn, he woke alone, his heart sinking as the truth settled in—Rebecca had played her cruel trick, and now the girl he truly loved might never forgive him.
