The Sofa “Dreamland”
Oliver and Emily had been together for two years. Emily stayed over at Oliver’s place whenever his mum went to her cottage in Cornwall or visited her friend in London. They cherished those fleeting moments. But summer ended. September still blessed them with warm sunshine, though the rains would soon pour. His mother no longer left for the countryside every weekend. Now they could only wait for her trips to London—but those were rare.
The lovers grew gloomy.
“Oliver, don’t you love me? Don’t you want to be with me through thick and thin?” Emily’s words carried a delicate hint—it was time to think about marriage.
They stood outside her house, unable to part for half an hour.
“Where did you get that idea?” Oliver stepped back, searching her eyes. “I’d take you to the registry office right now, but where would we live? I can’t afford rent yet, and you’ve another year of uni. Unless you’re happy living with my mum. Staying with your parents isn’t an option either—your flat’s tiny. Let’s wait a bit. Once you graduate—”
“But I can’t keep saying goodbye to you every day, waiting for your mum to leave. My parents keep asking why you haven’t proposed.” Emily filled her lungs, but instead of a sigh, a sob escaped.
“Em, I promise I’ll figure something out. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she echoed.
“Right. Come on,” Oliver said firmly, taking her hand.
“Where?”
“To yours. I’ll ask your parents for your hand. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Let’s go!” Emily brightened.
Hand in hand, they entered Emily’s flat.
“Come in, you two,” her mother greeted warmly.
On the kitchen table, four cups and a plate of biscuits and sweets waited, as if they’d been expected.
“I saw you through the window. Half an hour saying goodbye,” her mum chuckled, catching Emily’s puzzled look. “Enough wandering the streets. Winter’s coming. We know where you’ve been sleeping.” Emily flushed. “Dad and I have no objections to your marriage.”
“We won’t ask you to live with us. We understand you’d want your own space. A colleague’s selling a one-bed flat. I thought of you straightaway,” her father added.
“Thanks, Dad!” Emily exclaimed.
“Don’t celebrate yet. Oliver’s gone all serious.”
Oliver met her father’s gaze.
“You’re not wealthy. I can’t accept such a gift. I’m a strong lad—I can earn a flat myself.”
“What’s there to be ashamed of? We’re buying it, not stealing,” her father reasoned, slightly hurt. “Who else should we help but our children? My parents left us this flat. Now it’s our turn to give you a start. Buy a bigger place later, but for now, make do with this. And I’m not buying it for you—it’s for Emily, so she’s happy. And she’s happy with you. Look at him, all principled.” His stern gaze shifted between them.
Emily squeezed Oliver’s hand under the table—don’t argue, just agree for me.
“Thank you,” Oliver mumbled.
Less than a week until the wedding. A white dress bought, invitations sent, a restaurant booked.
“Oliver, our flat hasn’t got a sofa. What will we sleep on? The floor?” Emily panicked.
“No chance. We’ll buy one.”
“When?” she countered.
So they went to a furniture shop, wandering between rows of sofas in all sizes and fabrics. Emily sat on each, testing them. Eventually, she liked one—modest but perfect. She closed her eyes, sinking into it.
“Excellent choice, young couple,” a saleswoman chimed.
Emily opened her eyes to see her smiling beside Oliver.
“I can tell you love this one. You won’t regret it.” She listed its virtues. “Last one left. Try it too,” she urged Oliver.
He sat beside Emily, who instantly curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Newlyweds?” the saleswoman asked, though their ringless hands were obvious.
“Not yet, but our wedding’s in a week,” Emily said.
“Congratulations. A lovely way to start marriage—buying a sofa. Comfy?”
“Very. I don’t want to get up. How much is it?” Emily blurted.
The saleswoman turned the price tag on the coffee table.
“Sofa ‘Dreamland’,” Emily read, eyes widening at the cost.
“Dreams always come at a price,” the woman mused.
“But—” Emily began.
“You like it?” Oliver whispered.
“Are you joking? It’s the cosiest one here.”
“Then we’ll take it,” Oliver declared.
“Fine choice. Let’s sort the paperwork.”
The next day, the sofa arrived. Once the deliverymen left, Oliver and Emily sat on it, kissing.
In her white dress, Emily was radiant. Oliver couldn’t take his eyes off her, even holding her hand at the table as if afraid she’d vanish.
“What’s so special about her? She’s just a girl. There are prettier ones,” his best man, Jake, muttered.
“I don’t want prettier. Fall in love, then you’ll understand,” Oliver said.
“Not me. No beauty’s worth giving up freedom for.”
“What’s the debate? Oliver, come on.” Emily swept him away.
Guests congratulated them, each eager to hug and kiss Emily. They joined in games, danced, kissed to shouts of “Kiss the bride!” Emily smiled, hiding her exhaustion from heels and a floor-length gown. Oliver just wanted to be home alone with his wife.
Finally, they crossed their threshold. Emily kicked off her shoes, instantly shrinking into fragility. Oliver scooped her up, carrying her to the sofa…
Evenings were spent there, watching telly, sharing their days. Emily adored the sofa. It seemed to mould to her shape. Every argument, every tender reconciliation happened on it. Every big decision was made there. It was the heart of their home.
Autumn and winter passed. Spring came. Emily prepped for finals. Oliver grew quiet, brushing off her questions about his day.
“Same as always. Sorry, I’m knackered,” he’d say, retreating to the kitchen, leaving Emily bewildered. Her instincts whispered fatigue wasn’t the reason.
At summer’s end, they celebrated their first anniversary. Parents and friends came. Jake brought a stunning new girl. Playing hostess, Emily gathered plates, boiled the kettle.
Returning, she saw Oliver deep in conversation with the girl on their sofa. Her chest ached. She hurried everyone back to the table.
Later, she confronted Oliver, upset by his attention to another woman.
“We were just talking. Jake wandered off—I was keeping her company.”
“About what, so intently? On our sofa,” she stressed.
“Where else? We’ve only got one,” Oliver said, baffled.
They fought properly for the first time. Usually, bedtime melted anger away, but not tonight. Emily turned to the wall; Oliver didn’t reach for her. The sofa was wide enough for distance.
Morning brought no resolution. They left for work in silence, sitting apart that evening. Emily agonised, restless.
A power cut sent her home early. Rain fell, wind lashing from all sides. Too weary for pride, she headed to Oliver’s office, ready to apologise.
“Emily!” Jake called. “Here for Olly? Fancy a coffee first?”
Cold and drained, she agreed.
In the café, Jake rambled.
“Not married yet? To that brunette from our anniversary?” Emily ventured.
“Her? Just a colleague. No woman’s worth my freedom.”
Emily flinched. Oliver hadn’t mentioned she worked with them.
“Olly’s always liked flashier girls than you. Like her.” Jake faltered. “But he loves you.”
Emily stood abruptly, ignoring Jake’s calls, wind whipping her tears.
At home, she curled on the sofa, hugging a cushion, and slept. Oliver’s gaze woke her.
“You’re shivering. Eyes red. Ill?”
Hope flickered. He couldn’t have… He loves me.
She sat up, shoulders hunched.
“Em, something’s wrong. What is it?”
“I saw Jake. He hinted you’re seeing that colleague. The one at our anniversary. I trusted you…”
Oliver’s evasive eyes, stammering denials, made her head pound.
“Stop. Just go.” She fled to the kitchen. He followed, swearing he loved only her.
But the man before her was a stranger. Oliver packed haphazardly, slammed the door. Emily collapsed on the sofa, weeping.
Days blurred. She ignored calls, barely ate. Her worried mother visited. Emily recounted it all flatly.
Nights were spent on the sofa, arms wrapped around herself in the dark.
Once, she passed Oliver on the street. He didn’t see her. He’Through the open curtains, the evening light spilled over them as they sat together on the old sofa, their son sleeping peacefully between them, and in that quiet moment, they knew they had built something stronger than any dream.
