Between Truth and Dream
How clearly I recall those winter evenings, the fire gently flickering in the hearth and the world outside my window dressed in silence. I remember Emily, wrapped up in a thick tartan blanket, drinking in the calm and warmth of her little cottage on the edge of Oxford. Snowflakes waltzed gracefully to rest on the sill, each one twirling as if performing for her alone in that unbroken hush of an English winter.
Only the day before, Emily had returned from her wedding dress fittinga moment shed dreamt of for years. Her heart had fluttered, equal parts hope and nerves, as she tried on the silk and lace. Now, she still held a carrier bag in her hand, containing the little treasures: dainty pearl earrings, a slender diadem sparkling like frost, and other bits and bobs that rounded out her bridal vision. Her thoughts sailed ahead to her wedding day, imagining the parade of family and friends in St. Marys Hall, the way the lamplight would catch her jewellery, and those expectant gazes lingering just a little longer on her as she walked up the aisle.
A sudden and sharp knock at the door shattered the stillness. Emily stiffened, instinctively gripping the blanket tighter. She cast a nervous glance at the clockten minutes to seven. Who on earth would visit at such an hour? Was it the grocer returning her order? Or perhaps Mrs. Fletcher from next door, needing a hand with something urgent?
She approached the door warily and stole a look through the peephole. There stood a mantall, but his face hidden by the angle and low light. Emily hesitated, not eager to open up for just anyone.
“Whos there?” She called, striving to sound calm and composed.
“Its me, Oliver,” came the muffled but unmistakable reply. “We need to talk. Urgently.”
A cold shiver ran through her. She hadnt much desire to speak with Oliver, and she wondered if something had happened to Sophie. Reluctantly, she unlatched the door and opened it a crack. Oliver stood there, snow melting on the shoulders of his coat and forming wet patches, his face pale, eyes burning with a strange determination Emily had never seen before. She wondered, uneasily, if shed made a mistake in admitting him.
“Come in,” she said, stepping back and masking her worry as best she could. There wasnt much else she could doslamming the door in his face wouldnt do. “Youre soaking wet.”
Oliver walked in, oblivious to his muddy footwear smudging Emilys pale parquet floor. There was a haunted look in his eyes, as if he were searching some distant place no one else could see. Emily watched in silence, that familiar knot of anxiety tightening in her chest. She couldnt imagine what had brought him here.
“Emily,” he began, twisting his gloves between his fingers, “I cant do this anymore. I love you!”
Her heart stopped still. She couldnt believe her ears.
“Oliver, you she started. But her voice was little more than a whisper, and she couldnt finish her thought.
He didnt wait. He stepped closer, as if afraid that stopping now would lose him the last chance to say what hed held inside.
“I knowyoure getting married. I know its madness. But I cant keep it in! All these months, Ive tried to move on. Nothing works. I shouldve told you before. With Sophie Sophie was only in my life because of you. I wanted an excuse to be closer, to see you more often. But I never loved her. Not once.”
Emily sat rigid, cold crawling over her skin. What? Hed courted her friend for selfish reasons, using her as a means to an end? Poor Sophie, whod been so genuinely in love.
She let her blanket slip from her shoulders onto the armchair, as if the gesture could anchor her in the present. The room suddenly felt close, the air thick and hard to breathe.
“Oliver,” she forced herself to say, groping for words, “do you hear yourself? I have a fiancé. I love him. Im marrying him. Were serious. And Sophie”
But he only nodded, gaze unwavering. His eyes brimmed with pain, but also reliefhed finally cast off a weight hed carried for so long.
“I know. But I cant keep silent now. In just a few weeks, youll be lost to me forever. Maybe nows not the right time, but if I said nothing, Id regret it always. Sophie means nothing to me. Do you understand?”
Emily felt herself shrink inside. Her voice was distant, as if coming from someone else:
“How can you say that? What sort of man are you?”
“Its the truth!” Oliver insisted. “Sophie was only a way to get to you. I thought, maybe youd see me for who I amhow caring, generous, and devoted. That youd realise we belong together! Now, I know for certainlife without you isnt life at all.”
He dropped to one knee, hands trembling as he pulled out a modest, ornate ring. It glimmered under the lamplighta slender band, marked with an intricate pattern and a small gemstone.
“Leave him. Leave your fiancé. Be with me. I promise Ill make you happy.”
Emily stared at him, alone with echoing fragments: Oliver laughing with Sophie at a party; Oliver holding her hand, looking at her so tenderly shed thought at last Sophie had found a good man. Had it all been a lie? The past dissolved, a puzzle she could not reassemble.
“Get up,” she said quietly, almost a whisper. “Please, just stand up.”
Oliver did, still clinging to some faint hope.
“You dont believe me?” His voice quavered, exposing his vulnerability.
“I believe youre honest now,” she replied. “But it makes no difference.”
She edged a step back, needing a little distance to marshal her thoughts. Speaking was hard, but she knew she must be clear and direct.
“Youre my friend, Oliver. But I love someone else, and hes my future. I dont need anyone else.”
He looked down, fingers clenched around the little ring.
“What if Id told you sooner? Before you met him?”
Emily weighed his question, then answered gently:
“It would have been the same, Im afraid. Ive never seen you that way, Oliver. Youre a good man, dont get me wrong. But were not right for each other.”
Oliver stepped closer, desperation written in every line of him. He seemed to think any hesitation would cost him everything.
“But why not?” His voice shook with hurt but came out firm. “You cant deny you look at me I know theres something between us.”
She inched towards the door, unease prickling her skinhe had a wild look that unsettled her. She was already quietly thinking through an escape, if things got out of hand.
“Theres nothing, Oliver,” she replied as evenly as possible, not wanting to show her fear. “What you feelit’s not love; its obsession. Youve built a fantasy around me, and everyone else is just a prop in your story. Please, lets end this here.”
He clenched his fistsnot in anger, but helplessness. He tried, and failed, to find a counter.
“Youre wrong,” he said, locking eyes with her. “Ive never felt this way about anyone. Its not fantasy or obsession. Its love!”
Emily bit her lip, fighting tears. She couldnt simply let him stand there believing especially after what hed done to Sophie.
“What about Sophie? Do you realise how much youve hurt her? You used herplayed with her feelings. And now you want me to throw everything away for your sake?”
“I know Ive wronged her,” he replied softly, looking at the floor. “But I dont regret it. Even if I had the chance to start again, Id do exactly the same.”
“You cant build happiness on someone elses misery,” Emily gently shook her head, glancing towards her mobile. If I can just get to it “Nor can you love an idea. You dont really know me; we rarely talked alone. You love an imagea dream. Real life is always messier.”
She left him to consider her words for a few moments, then went on:
“You need to talk to Sophie. She deserves the truth. And you should ask her forgiveness.”
He froze, fingers trembling as he tried to collect himself.
“Why should I? Ive told you, I dont love her. She just grates on me, nothing more. But you”
His gaze was so pained for a heartbeat Emily almost pitied him. But no, pity would be mistakehe might mistake it for hope.
“You have no chance with me, just as with Sophie. You dont think Ill keep quiet about all this, do you?”
Oliver stared at her a moment longer, the silence growing heavy. Finally, he said:
“Im leaving. But Im not giving up. Ill wait until you realise were meant for each other.”
“Dont,” Emily gently shook her head. Was that a threat, or only his last plea? “Dont wait. Live your life. Find someone you truly love, not an ideal. And for nowplease go.”
Slowly, Oliver drifted to the door. Each movement betrayed his inner struggle, footsteps weighted as he left. At the threshold, he paused and turned.
“Thank you for being honest,” he said plainly, without any drama. “But Im not saying goodbye.”
And he left, quietly closing the door behind him. Emily stood for a long moment, letting the tension seep from her bones. She drifted to the window: outside, the lane glowed under the mellow light of the lamplight as the snow gathered. There, she watched Oliver trudge away, shoulders hunched, hands buried in his pockets, every step more difficult than the last.
She watched till he vanished, her thoughts tangled and raw. Olivers visit worried herwho knew what he might say to Sophie now? If he lied just to stay close to one of them?
Reaching for her phone, Emily found Sophies number and dialled, her heart beating a little faster but her voice calm, almost everyday:
“Sophie, hey. We need to talkit’s important.”
There was a rustle on the other end, the sound of papers shuffled aside. Sophies voice, warm and worried:
“Whats wrong, Emily? You sound tense. Are you all right?”
Emily steadied herself, aware she couldnt delay telling the truth any longer.
“Oliver came to see me just now,” she began, choosing her words so that they would hurt no more than necessary. “He said he only started seeing you to get close to me. That he never loved you, it was all just a way to reach me.”
A long, heavy silence. Emily pictured Sophie, phone in trembling hand, trying to take it in. The pause stretched until at last Sophie spoke, her voice unsteady:
“Is that what he said? I cant believe it How could he?”
“Look, I hate to hurt you, but I cant let you go on believing a lie. Youre my best friend. He said he loves only me; he wanted me to leave William for him. Sophie, he was not himself. I was genuinely afraid to be alone with him.”
Another pause. She heard Sophie breathe deeply, pulling herself together.
“I see,” came the eventual reply, stifled but controlled. “What happens now?”
“Im not sure,” Emily admitted, her anxiety betraying itself as she rattled on. “I suppose hell come to you soon, but goodness knows what hell say. Are you alone? Im worried for you, Sophiereally.”
Sophie was silent again, then quietly responded:
“Dont worryI’ll be all right. Thank you for telling me.”
“Im sorry you’ve had to hear it this way. I truly am.”
“Better the truth than comforting lies,” Sophie replied, a little more certain, though her voice shook.
They said their goodbyes, and Emily set down the phone. The room was silent once more. She pressed her forehead to the cold pane, watching the snow pirouette in the amber glow. Somewhere out in that blanketed city, two people tried to sort out aching hearts. All Emily could do was hope that, in time, everyone would find their own way forward.
She turned over what had happened, imagining the hurt Sophie must feel, how difficult it must be to face the truth and untangle memories. Yet Emily knew: better the bitter truth than a sweet lie bound to unravel and hurt more, eventually.
************************
Elsewhere, Sophie sat at her kitchen table, still clutching the teacup she hadnt touched since the call ended. The steam had long faded. The world was so still she could hear the clock ticking, counting the moments as she tried to process the blow.
She remembered so many thingsOlivers gentle humour, the way he smiled self-consciously, the warmth in his hand when he led her down the street. She remembered the quiet promises whispered at dusk. “He never loved me,” she repeated in her minda cold, persistent ache.
She looked around, wondering what to do. Call Oliver? Wait for him to appear? Perhaps ring Emily and ask her to come over? No course felt right. For now, all she could do was let time settle the pieces.
A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She was pouring a fresh cup when it came. Cautiously, she answered the doorand there was Oliver, sodden and pale, hair dusted with snow, red eyes betraying a sleepless night or too long spent in the cold. He looked composed yet entirely lost.
“Sophie,” he breathed, before she could even invite him in. “I have to tell you everything. I I’ve never”
“Emily already did,” Sophie cut him off, forcing herself to sound steady. Hearing it from him was a sharper cut than from a friend. “I dont think you can say anything new now.”
Oliver fell silent, defeated. He raised a hand as if to touch her, then dropped it, head bowed.
“So she called you,” he said quietly. “Id hoped to explain myself first before you heard from anyone else.”
Sophie folded her arms tightly, feeling resentment simmer. She didnt want to cry, but the words pressed out anyway.
“Why are you here? To repeat all that? To make me feel small, to remind me I was only ever your pawn for someone else?”
“No.” He took one uncertain step towards her, but she stepped back. He stopped, eyes searching her face. “I came to say sorry. For lying, and not telling you sooner. For using you.”
He hesitated, fumbling for words that might not wound further.
“I know theres no excuseand I dont expect your forgiveness or understanding. But I couldnt just walk away without saying it to your face. I am truly sorry.”
She said nothing, assessing her feelingsa little anger, perhaps more contempt. The man before her was no longer the man she remembered.
“You couldve been honest before,” she said at last, softly. “Before you ran to Emily, asking her to leave her wedding over you. Saying sorry now doesnt fix the things youve done.”
He sighed, gave a wry smile, and reached into his pocket to pull out a tiny ring boxthe same one hed shown Emily earlier. His hands shook as he opened it and offered it to her.
“Take it,” he said weakly. “My apology, or at least, a small sign of regret.”
Sophie looked at the ringa slim gold band with a small diamond, sparkling, though its purpose had changed. Was this a final insult? To give her the ring meant for another?
She studied Oliver; her eyes grew cold and calm, devoid of tears or bitterness now, just resolve.
“Keep it,” she said steadily. “I want nothing from you.”
He closed his fist over the ring, breath unsteady.
“Sophie, please” he tried, his composure fraying, “I know Im guilty and cant excuse it, but I want to put things right.”
She cocked her head, as if searching for the person she once cared for, but saw only a stranger.
“Set it right? How? Marrying me out of guilt, or throwing yourself into a river so Ill blame myself? Theres nothing left to repair, Oliver.”
He winced at her words but stood his ground.
“I want a second chance,” he offered, desperately. “A new startreal and honest this time.”
She shook her head slowly, speaking as if shed rehearsed it a hundred times.
“A fresh start is only possible when you trust someone, and I no longer do. You not only lied, you trampled everything that was real between us. Even if you mean this now, its too late.”
She took a steadying breath and went on.
“I need time. A lot of time. And distance. I dont want to see or hear from you. Please dont try to make amendsyou cant.”
He nodded, eyes on the floor, closing the box over the now pointless ring.
“I understand,” he whispered. “Im sorry for the pain. I really am.”
He turned to go, but as his hand touched the latch, the doorbell rang again.
Who now? Sophie wondered.
She peeked through the chain and saw WilliamEmilys fiancéstanding on the step, tall and well-kept, his dark hair neat, his eyes oddly cool but brimming with restrained tension. He looked as though he’d come to tie up an old score, not merely talk.
She let him in, and at once saw Oliver shrink, edging towards the wall.
“I know whats happened,” William said, fixing Oliver with a steely gaze. “I know what you did to both of them.”
Oliver opened his mouth, but William cut over him.
“Enough. Youve said more than enough! Emilys told me everything. Some men need a lesson not in words, but in action.”
He stepped forward. Oliver drew back, recognising not anger, but steely resolve.
“William, dont” Sophie tried, stepping between them. As much as Oliver deserved retribution, she hadnt stopped caring altogether.
William waved her off.
“This is between us, Sophie. Havent you had enough? Hell get what’s coming.”
Sophie stood in uncertainty, torn between staying and fleeing the scene.
Oliver flattened himself against the wall as the reality of his consequences set in. What had he thoughtthat William would let his actions go unanswered?
“Please,” Oliver began, voice trembling. “I know I’m at fault, Ive apologised”
“Apologies mean nothing,” William retorted, cold and crisp. “You shattered two peoples trust. Now you want to be pitied?”
He closed the distance with a single step. Oliver attempted to stand tall, but was no match.
Sophie drew a breathshe didnt want violence, but she couldn’t pretend all was well.
“William, dont” she pleaded.
He hesitated just a moment, then drove his fist into Olivers jaw. Oliver dropped to the floor, palming his split lip and watching the blood trickle through his fingers.
“This is your first warning,” William said, measured and almost emotionless. “Turn up anywhere near Emily or Sophie again, and youll regret it. Am I clear?”
Oliver said nothing, wiping his lips and looking fleetinglyand in vainfor sympathy in Sophies eyes. Finding none, he slipped away. At the door, he paused as if to speak, but met Williams stony expression and left without another word. The door shut behind him, weighing the room in silence.
William turned to Sophie, and his face softened minutely.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Violence is never right, but some lessons need more than talk.”
Sophie, stunned but not truly shocked, realised somewhere inside that this wasnt mere anger, but Williams way of protecting Emilyprotecting them both.
“You shouldnt havebut thank you for standing up for us,” she replied, her voice unsteady.
William smiled faintly.
“I know how betrayal feels,” he said gently. “Youll pull through this. Youre stronger than you think.”
She noddedbelieving it, somehow, now that the worst had passed.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, the world seemed almost steady beneath her feet.
“Emily wanted to come,” William added, “but I convinced her Id handle it.”
Sophie smiled, a little warmth returning.
“Shes a true friend. And Im glad she has someone like you.”
The silence that followed was calming. Outside, snow coated the streets, muffling the citys scars in gentle white. Sophie exhaled, feeling a measure of peace. There was much to work throughabout trust, herself, her own way forwardbut at least she was not alone.
Once William had gone, Sophie sank onto the sofa.
“Its over,” she thought. The words were clear, almost a relief. And though the ache lingered, she sensed this wasnt the end but a new beginninga path to learning to trust, dream, and, perhaps, love again. But with eyes open, not clouded by illusion.
******************
Meanwhile, Oliver trudged through the snowy streets, blind to the cold flakes melting on his burning skin and stinging split lip. The pain of his injury was nothing compared to the emptiness insidea heavy, all-consuming void.
He knew hed lost them both. Sophie was lost to him forever. With Emily, too, his delusions had cost him dear, his cherished daydreams sweeping everything real away. Hed built his world on lies, and now stood alone amongst their ruins.
The next day, Oliver turned up at his City office amid stares and whispers, his black eye and injured mouth the talk of the canteen. He ignored the lot. Nothing mattered but finishing out his posthis heart and mind had already withdrawn from London.
A week later, he put in for a transfer to Manchester. His boss eyed him in surprise but signed the forms when Oliver offered no reason and showed no emotion.
On the eve of his departure, Oliver slipped into a jewellers and quietly returned the ring. The shop assistant said nothing, simply reached for the refund, handing Oliver the pound notes stiffly across the counter.
He transferred the money to Sophies account, along with the briefest note: “Forgive me. Its yours by right.” No explanations, only the plain fact.
The day he left, he waited by his block for a cab under Londons hush of snow. The city, shrouded in white, seemed to erase his tracks, offering him no favoursno memories, no regrets, nothing but a clean break. As the car pulled up, he whispered not a complaint, but an acceptanceto himself and the world:
“I ruined everything.”
No going back; only forward, with all its challenges and uncertain hope. He stepped into the taxi and asked for the station, watching familiar streets vanish beneath swirling snowflakes, ready to begin again.
Meanwhile, in a cosy Oxford café, Sophie joined Emily and William at a quiet table overlooking the market square. Three cups of hot chocolate steamed before them, comfort against the chill beyond the windows.
Their conversation was gentle, relaxed. Emily spoke of wedding preparationsflowers at Magdalene College, the menu, place cards. William listened, occasionally teasing her and smoothing out the worries that came with planning. Sophie listened too, feeling warmth slowly bloom inside as she remembered life goes oneven flourishesdespite heartache.
“You know,” Sophie said quietly as the snow danced outside, “Im not angry anymore. Only a little sad it ended as it did.”
Her voice was even, honest with herself and the others. It was neither bitterness nor self-pity; only acceptance of what was and the peace that comes after.
Emily reached over, squeezing her friends hand with real affection.
“Theres nothing there to regret, Sophie,” she said. “You deserve the kind of happiness that comes without conditions or lies.”
Sophie nodded, finally believing it.
“I will find it,” she replied, her voice steady, an honest hope taking root at last.
Outside, the snow settled quietly over streets and lanes, as if enveloping the past and clearing the way for new beginnings. Inside, laughter and the soft clatter of cups rose and fellthe surest evidence that life, always, carries on.
