Ouch, this really hurts…
Emily was on the phone when Daniel peeked into the office. Charlotte shot her a look—clearly, the call was important, and they weren’t in the mood for interruptions. Daniel’s head vanished behind the closing door.
Ten minutes later, Emily ended the call and set her mobile down.
“Daniel stopped by earlier,” Charlotte said.
“For me? Maybe it was you?” Emily bristled.
“I’m married. Haven’t you noticed how he looks at you?”
“How?” Emily lifted her gaze from the monitor.
“Like he’s interested,” Charlotte teased.
Of course, Emily had noticed—she wasn’t blind. Handsome, just her type. If only he weren’t so much younger…
Work piled up, so Emily skipped lunch with Charlotte. Later, Daniel walked in and placed a coffee on her desk.
“Take a break. Buried in work?” he asked.
“Always,” Emily smiled, sipping the hot coffee gratefully.
“Fancy a film tonight?”
“Sorry, I’ve got my little girl,” she replied, avoiding his eyes.
“I know. Could your mum watch her for the evening?”
Emily finally met his gaze. So he was making the first move—no more just lingering looks. He was sweet, charming. If only he were a few years older, she wouldn’t have hesitated.
She looked younger than her age, but the gap was still obvious. After her painful divorce, she’d sworn off men, too wary of more heartache. But time dulls pain—and caution. She felt ready to love again. Just not with Daniel, surely?
“Well? Did he ask you out?” Charlotte quizzed at lunch.
“Who?” Emily played dumb.
“Why are you dodging him? He’s lovely. If I weren’t married…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emily cut in. “I’m way too old for him.”
“So what? You don’t look it. And a bit of fun never hurt anyone—especially not a single woman. Admit it, you like him too. You light up when he walks in. Am I wrong?”
Emily stayed silent.
“You’ve been alone for years. You said you were ready. While you wait for someone ‘age-appropriate,’ some pretty girl will snap him up. Just enjoy it. For your sake.”
Emily stewed. Maybe Charlotte was right. A film wouldn’t hurt, would it?
She rang her mum to babysit, dropped off little Sophie that evening, and ignored her mum’s raised eyebrows.
The night was wonderful. She hadn’t been to the cinema in ages, let alone concerts or dates. It ended in bed—why wait? She was free, so was he. If not for love, then for fun.
The next day, Charlotte pounced. “Well? You’re glowing.”
Emily shrugged. She wouldn’t discuss it, but secrecy didn’t last. Daniel kept lingering in the office, shooting her smouldering looks that made her pulse race. Charlotte noticed, smirking knowingly.
Their romance escalated. They met daily—always at hers. Daniel lived with his mum. At first, he’d arrive after Sophie was asleep, slipping out before morning. Sometimes he lingered. Sophie never questioned why Mummy’s friend sat drinking coffee at breakfast, but she liked it—Mummy never snapped at her when he was around.
When Emily married, her ex often suggested selling both flats to buy a bigger one. She’d refused—this flat was her dad’s last gift. Now, she was glad she’d held onto it.
With Daniel in her life, she toyed with the idea of upsizing. Sophie was growing up. But the car loan still weighed on her.
“Ever thought of a mortgage?” Daniel asked once.
“Yes, but I’m still paying off the car.”
The conversation unsettled her. How long would this last? Time wasn’t on her side. Daniel was in his prime—she wouldn’t stay young forever. Cosmetic fixes were pricey, and chasing youth was a losing game. She’d seen films where women ruined themselves trying—only to be left anyway.
Yet she fell harder. If a girl smiled at him, jealousy clawed at her. Her heart was free—why shouldn’t she love?
She stalled, uncertain.
Then Daniel went away for two days. With no urgent work to distract her, she walked out at lunch. The air was crisp, though forecasts promised snow. She turned back, chilled, and ducked into a café.
Then she saw him.
Across the room, Daniel sat with a young blonde, their heads nearly touching, hands clasped. The way they gazed at each other—no mistake, they were together. He’d lied about the trip.
Pain twisted in her chest, hot and suffocating. She bolted before he spotted her.
She’d known this would happen—just not so soon. She’d thought they’d part lightly. But now? Confront him? Throw him out? Seek revenge? It hurt—God, it hurt.
That evening, she snapped at Sophie, then hugged her tightly as they both cried. After tucking her in, Emily lay awake. If Daniel crawled back with some excuse, she might forgive him. Maybe she’d misseen? No—she’d ironed that shirt herself.
She slept fitfully, waking groggy and irritable. Sophie dawdled, fussing, until Emily snapped again. The girl wailed, refusing nursery.
Daniel would return “from his trip” tonight. Sophie couldn’t witness their fight. She rang her mum to babysit.
After work, Emily paced, waiting. The doorbell rang. She let him in.
“Hey. Sophie at your mum’s? Good—I missed you,” he murmured, leaning in.
Emily pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Headache. Maybe a cold. Didn’t want Sophie catching it.” She fixed him with a stare. “You got back today?”
“An hour ago. Came straight here.” He nuzzled her hair. She caught a whisper of foreign perfume.
“I saw you today. With a blonde.” She shoved him. “How long have you lied? Just tell me next time—I’d have let you go. But you’re just like the rest. Get out.”
“Em—” He reached for her. She recoiled.
“Please, leave.” She fled to the bathroom, drowning his pleas with the tap. When she emerged, he was gone.
She called Charlotte. “Meet me. I can’t stay here.”
They met at a wine bar. Over drinks, Emily spilled everything. The alcohol—or the venting—eased the sting.
“I never thought I’d react like this,” she admitted.
Charlotte pushed another glass toward her. Emily drained it. The wine helped—in public, she held back tears. Charlotte listened, offering no advice. What was there to say?
Standing, the room spun. Nausea rose. Charlotte hurried her outside.
“I need to get Sophie.”
“In this state? Fetch her tomorrow.” Charlotte checked her watch. “Blimey, my husband will kill me.” She flagged down a cab, bundling Emily inside.
“Take her home. Ealing, number fifteen. I’ve got your plate,” she warned the driver.
“Thought you were in a hurry, not pissed,” he muttered.
“Bad night. Go easy.” She paid upfront.
Emily woke slumped in the back seat, head pounding.
“Finally awake?” a man’s voice said.
She bolted upright. “Who—? Where—?”
“Your mate hired me. You conked out. Couldn’t leave you on the street.”
She checked her purse.
“Didn’t touch your cash. Phone’s dead—couldn’t call anyone.”
Peering out, she recognised her building. Only a few lights glowed.
“Got the right place? I clock in soon. Fancy repaying me with a coffee?”
Memories flooded back—Daniel, Charlotte, the wine… Rubbing her temples, she stepped out. The cold cleared her head.
“Come up,” she said.
Inside, she splashed water on her face, adding a touch of mascara and blush. The kitchen door was shut—thoughtful. She changed into jeans and a jumper.
Two steaming coffees and sandwiches waited.
“Helped myself. Hope that’s alright.” He took a bite.
Emily followed suit. “Thanks. I can’t drive—need to fetch Sophie.”
“Work soon. Trouble?”
“Long story.”
He finished eating. “Bathroom free? Could use a shave.”
“Go ahead.”
When he returned—clean-shaven, more rugged than handsome—she felt no regret about Daniel.
“Ready? Name’s James.”
“Hmm. Not bad,” she thought.
They drove in silence to her mum’s.
“You stayed awake all night,” Emily said.
“Napped in the car. Used to it. Any bloke who’d leave you is daft.”
“Daft sums him up.” She paused. “You said ‘bloke,’ not ‘husband.’ Why?”
“No men’s stuff at yours, but there’s a razor. When my wife left me for a younger bloke, I hit the bottle. Then sortedAs they pulled up to the nursery, Emily realized that sometimes the right person comes along when you least expect it—and perhaps James was exactly what she needed all along.
