A Bouquet of Daisies in November
Emily tightened her dressing gown and stepped to the window. The trees were nearly bare, their last leaves long gone. A thin, pale frost coated the withered grass and the roof of the neighbouring house. Last night, rain had drizzled down, and by morning, the cold had bitten hard. A gloomy November—ushering in the endless depths of winter.
Emily sighed. The melancholy outside mirrored the heaviness in her chest. Another solitary weekend loomed ahead. Just her, the silence, and the ache of loneliness.
***
That day had also been in November. During her lunch break, Emily rushed to the café across from her office, where they served quick takeaway meals. She and her colleagues took turns fetching lunch. A light rain fell, but she hadn’t bothered with an umbrella—too awkward to carry while balancing food.
The road was empty, not a car in sight. Emily stepped confidently onto the zebra crossing. The street was usually quiet, without traffic lights at this crossing. She didn’t see the SUV speeding around the corner until it was too late. The screech of brakes made her freeze, shoulders hunched, hands covering her face.
“Trying to get yourself killed? Fancy an early grave?” a furious voice snapped.
Emily lowered her hands. A tall man in a dark overcoat stood beside the car, his sharp jawline accentuated by a well-groomed beard. His dark eyes, furious and intense, locked onto her.
“Think you own the road just because you’ve got a flash motor? No traffic lights here. I wasn’t speeding—just walking. Maybe slow down before corners?” she shot back.
The man studied her, then exhaled. “I was in a hurry. If you’re alright, I’ll be off. Sorry.” The apology came over his shoulder as he strode back to the car.
Emily trembled for ages afterward—nearly run over, then shouted at. The next day was dry, and she cautiously approached the crossing when a car door slammed nearby. Instinctively, she stepped back onto the pavement. The same man stepped out of a parked SUV, sauntering toward her with a smile.
“Now what? Just drive past, I’ll wait,” she said, flustered by his grin.
“Waited for you, actually. To make up for yesterday. Fancy lunch? My treat—compensation for being a prat.” His teeth were distractingly perfect.
“Not in a rush today?” she asked warily.
Over lunch, she forgot everything else—except the wedding band on his finger. *Married.* Her stomach twisted. He was a solicitor, father of two girls. He asked for her number, then immediately called it so she’d have his. *Just in case you need legal help.*
She never planned to ring him. But two days later, he called, inviting her to a café across town—somewhere they wouldn’t be noticed.
“People know me. Don’t want rumours,” he explained.
Somehow, he ended up at her flat. Not often, always unpredictably, never for long. Weekends and holidays were spent alone, aching for him. He’d said upfront he wouldn’t leave his wife—adored his kids, wouldn’t abandon them.
She bit back the obvious question: *Then why are you here?* Too afraid to sound foolish, to scare him off. She’d fallen for him, content with scraps of stolen happiness. Her experience with men was limited.
***
That Saturday, Emily lazed in bed. No reason to rush. No one to impress. Another day alone. She stood by the window, unbrushed hair loose, when the doorbell rang.
Daniel swept in like a storm, crushing her in his arms. “Half an hour, that’s all I’ve got,” he murmured between kisses.
When he left as suddenly as he’d arrived, she showered, then stared outside again. The frost had melted, leaving the pavement damp.
*This is it. This is love. A whirlwind, then silence. But he carved out time for me. That means something.* Her pulse still thrummed from his touch. She hugged herself.
Again, she wondered—how long? When would the crumbs of affection stop being enough? One day, he wouldn’t come. She needed to end it now, before she shattered. Unbearable, being second. But walking away when you love someone? God, it hurt.
Midweek, he couldn’t visit. On Friday, he called abruptly.
“Darling, I’ve missed you. Got an hour. Meet me at The Oak. Traffic’s hell—take the Tube.” He hung up before she could reply.
Emily scrambled. Grabbed her coat, swiped on lipstick.
“Cover for me? Toothache, can’t bear it,” she told Sarah, her desk mate.
“Go on,” Sarah smirked.
Halfway to the station, Emily collided with an elderly man. His cane clattered to the ground. She stooped to retrieve it.
“Sorry.”
“No matter. Off to see your sweetheart? At your age, I ran to my girl just the same. No time to look around. Now? No one’s waiting.”
Emily noticed four daisies in his grip. *Daisies, in November?*
“Visiting your wife?” she asked softly.
“Every day, since she passed. My time’s coming too. Forty years together—loved her to the end. Glad she went first. Spared her this loneliness.” His eyes were damp. “You remind me of her, young.”
Her phone buzzed. Daniel, impatient. *”Where are you? I’ve got no time—”*
She hung up. The old man shuffled toward the crossing.
“Let me help.” She took his arm, guiding him as a cabbie honked.
“Ta, love. At my age, death’s no fear.”
That was the love she wanted. Decades together. Daisies in November.
Emily turned back toward the office.
“Toothache gone?” Sarah asked.
“Better now.”
At home, she found Daniel’s missed calls. How often had she imagined ringing him? Pictured his wife answering, the awkward lies. No. She couldn’t hurt that woman.
Her phone vibrated. Daniel, furious.
“What the hell? Couldn’t call? Why’d you ignore me?”
“Did you even notice I wasn’t there?” *Pathetic, that his anger felt like care.*
“Emily, what’s wrong?”
“I want a family. Breakfasts together. Nights in one bed. Not stolen minutes.” Her voice cracked.
“I never lied. I won’t leave her—”
“Honest to *who*?”
“Don’t start this.”
“I can’t do it anymore. You never ask about *my* life—” She hung up, sobbing.
He didn’t call back.
That night, she walked aimlessly, no umbrella, until rain drove her under an awning.
A man paused beside her, holding a broken umbrella. “Let me walk you home.”
She liked that—the broken spoke. Someone choosing to give her time.
As they walked, the rain eased.
“Fancy a bit longer? If you’re not in a rush,” he asked, hopeful.
Emily smiled. “Not anymore.”
