**Exhale**
Yesterday, Kate turned 47. Two years ago, her life had shattered. Funny how such a clichéd phrase could sum it all up so perfectly.
Kate found the dress just days before her birthday. She called her mother and said she’d bought a blue one. Her mum demanded to see it in person at once. When Kate put it on, her mother beamed. “You look absolutely darling in it. But blue? That’s more of a turquoise.” Such an odd generation. Probably because they’d grown up visiting dressmakers, discussing patterns, picking fabrics—each dress had been an event in itself.
So the turquoise dress, now aware it wasn’t just “some blue thing,” waited for its grand debut.
For this birthday, Kate had invited all her few relatives and friends. The restaurant had set up their table in a cosy corner of the snug little dining room.
Natasha, her cousin, gave a toast that lasted nearly ten minutes. She recounted how, at sixteen, they’d got drunk and tried to hail a taxi, unable to remember how to say “cathedral.” They kept repeating to the driver, “What don’t you understand?! We live by the *cathedrul*! The *cathedrul*! Hedgehog Village! Just drive to the centre—we’ll point the way!” Then she suggested they all get blind drunk so no one would remember their addresses. But her romantic notion was quickly shot down—everyone was staying at the same hotel as the restaurant. “No romance left in the world,” Natasha sighed, laughing. Her husband chimed in: “We’ve stopped climbing through windows to see our sweethearts! Though, truth be told, it’s just because of the blasted mosquito nets. Otherwise, we’d still be at it. Especially me.” “Of course,” Kate shot back. “With your bungalow.” The whole table burst out laughing.
Next came Alex, her other cousin Irene’s husband. He recalled their trip to Brighton a lifetime ago. At first, everyone started winning at the casino. Then they lost every last penny. Walking out, Kate had said, “What would you lot do without me? I stashed a fiver for vodka and snacks.” So they all staggered back to the hotel to drink on that measly fiver, then wandered along the pier singing *Coming Round the Mountain*. “So let’s raise a glass to the brilliant woman who saved us from dying sober and starving!” Kate’s stepfather, Geoffrey, lamented that the restaurant didn’t have scales—he’d have loved to seal their toast the old-fashioned way. Then everyone started singing *Coming Round the Mountain*, whispering by the end, just like in that famous pub scene.
The evening was simply splendid. Her husband never made a toast—he’d never been one for speeches. He always joked that he was a tech geek, not an orator.
The next morning, they’d all planned to breakfast together and stroll through Hyde Park. By evening, everyone had left, and Kate and her husband were alone in their flat.
He glanced at the corner with his computer desk and said they needed to talk. Suddenly, Kate felt uneasy. Truth be told, she’d felt off all day. She’d hardly drunk much, yet her insides were trembling. Then her husband told her he’d met someone—a woman he loved—and he was leaving right then. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the celebration.
The following year was the Year of the Letter C. Change, crying, chaos, drinking, crying again…
On her 46th birthday, Kate decided to change letters. She woke up and walked along the beach. Even on her darkest days, she made sure to walk every morning. It was chilly—January—and the shore was empty. The crisp solitude, or maybe the energy of the sea, lifted her up from within, and she realised with absolute clarity: she was healed. She’d never believed in all that energy nonsense, but in that moment, she physically felt the weight vanish.
Except she still couldn’t exhale completely.
Kate decided the next year would be the Year of N. New faces, the new *her*, but no surrender!
That same day, she set up a dating profile. Of all the men who messaged her, she liked one. They met. That was a year ago.
Hard to believe how much her life had changed yet again since then. Was it written in the lines of her palm? Did her life line break and start anew? Right then, today. Kate inhaled the morning air deeply, gladly—but still couldn’t exhale fully.
She called her mum to say goodbye.
“I told Helen you’re off on your trip, and she insists you stay with them overnight,” her mother said.
“Lovely, I adore them. I’d planned to drive straight to the Lake District, but I’ll stop with them in London. It’s on the way—hardly any distance to the Lakes from there. I’ll be at the Nolans’ by lunch.”
The Nolans—Oliver and Olivia Nolan—had been dubbed “the Nos” by friends for the three *O*s in their names. And they’d stayed *her* friends.
By the second evening, Kate reached London. Helen and Felix had already set the table and warned her not to fill up on starters—they had a surprise. Twenty minutes later, the surprise walked in.
“Kate, darling, this is Victor. Our neighbour. Sadly, he’s about to move from London to Edinburgh. But tonight, he’s treating us to sea bass—his secret recipe.”
“Pleasure,” said Victor.
“Likewise,” said Kate. She liked him so much she felt a twinge of guilt—she was supposed to meet Ian in Scotland tomorrow. Victor was around fifty. Not classically handsome, nor particularly athletic, but with an open, clever smile.
“Well, youngsters, what are we waiting for?” Felix raised his glass.
Victor poured Kate and himself a drink. “Shall we skip the formalities? We *are* the youngsters here.”
“Gladly,” Kate smiled. Victor grinned. “The youth are ready! Cheers!”
Everyone laughed and drank.
“This spread is fit for New Year’s! Victor, I’m no fish lover, but that bass is divine. Felix, your potato salad’s legendary—blizzard or sunshine, it’s always perfect,” Kate said, delighted.
“What blizzard?” Victor asked.
Felix exclaimed, “Pour another—time for the family legend!” And between bites of his famed salad, he began: “Our first winter here, almost thirty years ago. The forecast said the storm of the century was coming next day. Every channel mentioned it every five minutes. Schools and offices closed preemptively. Well, you know how it is. We prepared seriously—stocked up on whisky, I chopped a trough of potato salad. By six, we were holed up with Kate’s parents, drinking. Even teenage Kate got a drop. Snow started falling outside—big, beautiful flakes. But no storm. We drank on. Finished the salad. Still no storm. Ran out of whisky, walked Kate’s family home, strolled a bit. Maybe ten centimetres of snow. Next morning? That *was* the storm.”
Everyone laughed, eating salad and bass. Kate wished the evening would never end. But an hour later, Felix started nodding off. Kate, exhausted from driving, felt ready to turn in too. Victor noticed.
“Right, I’m off! Kate, lovely meeting you. If you’re ever in Edinburgh, my door’s open. Felix, Helen, I’ll still be around a few days—no goodbyes yet.”
The moment the door shut, Helen clapped her hands. “Kate! He fancies you. Don’t be daft—invite yourself to Edinburgh!”
“Helen! Didn’t Mum tell you? I met someone online. He visited me in Cornwall for a weekend. Nothing happened, but he invited me to Scotland. We’ve been writing a year, know everything about each other, like each other. We’ve booked rooms in a mountain lodge. You want me to bin all that and chase the neighbour?”
“Kate, fine. Stick to your plan. Let’s sleep. Fancy a stroll in Hyde Park tomorrow?”
“Can’t. Promised the Nos I’d be in the Lakes by lunch. Early start—I want to leave by nine.”
By one, Kate pulled into the Nolans’ drive.
Oliver came out. “Brilliant you’re here. Leave your bag—let me pamper the pretty brunette while the blonde fries potatoes.” They both laughed. “Hurry inside—poor Jack’s going mad.”
Before the door fully opened, a huge golden Labrador barrelled into Kate. She sat right down, letting him cover her in slobbery kisses. She pecked his cold nose. “My good boy, you remember me! Guess what I brought you?” From her bag, she produced a long-lasting chew. Jack bolted off with it.
“Kate! Kitchen—can’t leave the stove. We’ll lick each other clean later.” Inside, she and Olivia hugged. “Wash up, settle in. We’ve got you in Alex’s room. Lunch in ten.”
Upstairs, Kate unpacked a few things. Texted her mum she’d arrived. Then Ian—”the Scot,” asShe inhaled deeply one last time, then finally exhaled—watching Victor and the white Labrador walk toward her, knowing this was where her breath belonged.
