“Don’t Regret. Then He Didn’t Love You.”
“Aren’t you going to freeze in that dress? It’s minus fifteen outside, and they say it’ll drop even more by night,” Mum said, peering into Emily’s room.
“I won’t have time to freeze—it’s just down the road. I can’t wear jeans to a birthday party,” Emily replied, adjusting her dress in the mirror.
“Is Daniel picking you up?” Mum asked.
“No, he said he’d be running late. His mate’s laptop broke, and he’s fixing it,” Emily answered lightly.
“He could finish tomorrow if he’s short on time. It’s not right for you to go alone,” Mum pressed.
“Mum, nobody cares about that these days. What’s the big deal? So we don’t walk in together—so what? I’ve got to go, I’m late already.” Emily shoved her heels into a bag and hurried to the hall.
She knew Mum didn’t like Daniel. Not since he’d kissed Emily right in front of her. “It’s not proper. There ought to be some decency,” Mum had scolded after he’d left.
Emily pulled on warm boots, a long down coat, and wrapped a thick scarf around her neck.
“No hat?” Mum gasped.
“I just curled my hair—what’s the point of a hat? I’m off.” Emily unlocked the door and stepped out.
Mum called something after her, but she was already racing downstairs, her heart fluttering at the thought of a fun evening and seeing Daniel again.
Their romance had been fast and intense. Emily hoped he’d propose any day now.
The freezing air stung her face and hands, sneaking under her coat. She tugged her scarf higher, buried her nose in it, and hurried toward her friend’s house. “If only Daniel would hurry,” she thought. She’d called him half an hour ago. “Don’t distract me, then I’ll be quick,” he’d snapped. She hadn’t rung again.
In the stairwell, Emily lowered her scarf. She skipped the lift, taking the stairs to warm up. Even though Sophie lived just two streets away, the cold had seeped into her bones.
The flat door was slightly open, music spilling out. Someone stepping out for a fag must’ve left it ajar—or maybe Sophie had kept it unlocked for late arrivals. “Lucky. Less fuss,” Emily thought, stepping into the dim hallway. The music and chatter hit her like a wave.
She shrugged off her coat, stuffed her scarf into the sleeve. The hooks were crammed with thick winter jackets. Sophie had said it’d be a big party. Emily squeezed her coat onto a hook, slipped on her cold heels, shivered, and stepped into the room.
Bright light blinded her after the dark hall, the music pounding in her chest. A dozen lads and girls were dancing around the table, packed tight. Nobody noticed her. She scanned the room for Sophie but didn’t see her.
Weaving through the dancers, Emily headed toward the kitchen. Just as she reached the glass door, it swung open. Sophie stood there, flushed, fever-bright eyes, a triumphant smile on her lips—until she saw Emily. Confusion flickered, then the smile returned.
Behind her, Daniel appeared, smoothing his tousled hair.
“You’re already here?” Emily asked, looking between them.
Sophie recovered fast. “The party’s in full swing. Why so late?” she chirped. “Fancy a dance? Or a drink first?” She breezed past Emily.
“You didn’t call. Didn’t even notice I wasn’t here? Or were you too busy?” Emily’s voice was thick with hurt.
“Didn’t have time. Just got here myself.” Daniel leaned in to kiss her, but she jerked back.
She caught the scent of Sophie’s perfume.
“Em, what’s wrong? We were just slicing sausage,” Daniel protested.
“Wipe the lipstick off your cheek. Give her this.” She shoved the gift bag at him. He barely caught it as she pushed past the dancers toward the exit.
In the hall, she kicked off her heels, yanked on her boots, snatched her coat, and bolted. Her scarf slipped onto the stairs. As she bent to grab it, Daniel burst out of the flat. Emily sprinted down.
“Em, you’ve got it all wrong!” he shouted.
She burst into the cold, the wind biting her face. She remembered her heels—but she wasn’t going back. “How could he? Got here early and didn’t call, didn’t look for me… Some friend she is. How could she?” Emily sobbed, walking blindly away from home. Only when her lashes froze stiff and her nose went numb did she stop.
“Where now? Home? Mum will ask questions, soothe her, say she never liked Daniel… Maybe the church? They’d have midnight Mass. No—too crowded, too far.”
Emily looked around. She’d wandered farther than she thought. She ducked into a shop to warm up, regretting the thin dress. The cold cut deep despite her coat. “I’ll get ill. Good. Let them feel guilty while I’m feverish…” Her nose ran, mascara smudging from melted frost and tears.
The shop was empty. The bored cashier eyed her curiously. Emily unwound her scarf, draped it over her head, and wrapped the ends around her neck before stepping back into the cold.
Suddenly, footsteps crunched behind her. She turned. A bloke in all black, hood up, was keeping pace. The street was empty. Emily sped up, but he matched her. Soon, she was panting.
“Running from someone?” he asked.
She pretended not to hear, hoping he’d leave. He didn’t.
“Got hurt? Boyfriend dumped you? Don’t regret it. If he left, he never loved you,” he said.
Emily stopped, ready to snap—but his eyes under the hood were kind. No threat. She looked down and kept walking.
They reached her building in silence.
“Thanks for walking me,” Emily said at the door.
“Anytime. Couldn’t leave you alone. I’m Oliver. You?”
“Emily. Now you’ll ask for my number?” She smirked.
“You won’t give it?” he countered. She could hear his smile.
“Go on, then.” She recited it. “Bye.” She headed inside. The lack of footsteps told her he hadn’t followed.
“I’ll call!” Oliver shouted as the door shut.
Climbing the stairs, Emily realized she wasn’t crying over Daniel anymore.
“Had fun? You’re back early,” Mum said, watching the telly, waiting for the Christmas service.
“Too cold,” Emily mumbled, retreating to her room.
Only then did the weight of betrayal crush her. She’d lost Daniel and Sophie in one night. “Don’t regret. Then he didn’t love you,” Oliver’s words echoed.
“He didn’t love me,” she whispered, crying.
Emily lay in bed, listening to the choir from Mum’s telly, the full moon glowing outside.
The next day, Oliver rang and asked her to the cinema.
“Too cold for ice-skating. Fancy it?”
“Why not? He’ll help me forget Daniel,” she decided. Over hot chocolate after, they talked easily. Soon, they met every day.
Daniel never called. Sophie dropped by with the heels.
“Big deal, we had a laugh, kissed. Nothing else happened,” she defended, trying to make up.
The conversation was stiff. It wasn’t just the kiss—Sophie had taken advantage. Worse, Daniel hadn’t waited, hadn’t chased her. If he’d loved her, he would have. So why regret?
Soon, Oliver proposed.
“You barely know him. Why rush?” Mum fretted.
“How well did you know Dad before marrying? How long did you date?”
“Two years,” Mum sighed.
“Two years, and you still didn’t see he’d betray you. Time doesn’t matter—what comes after does,” Emily said wisely.
“You’re all grown up,” Mum murmured, hugging her.
A year later, they had a son. Three years after, a daughter.
Emily couldn’t imagine life without Oliver—loving husband, devoted father. What more could she want? Only to grow old together, watch their children thrive, maybe meet grandchildren. To drink life to the dregs, side by side.
They say marriages are made in heaven. Maybe someone arranged their meeting that Christmas Eve.
Miracles happen—not just in tales, but on holy nights.
Then again, when and where you meet doesn’t matter. Only that you find your other half. Don’t mistake them. Don’t walk past.
