“He Didn’t Choose Me.”
“No, Emma, you don’t understand! I can’t live like this anymore!” Rachel grabbed her friend’s arm so tightly that Emma winced. “He’s marrying her! That… that airhead! And what, I’ve wasted twelve years for nothing?”
“Rach, let go, you’re hurting me!” Emma tried to pull away, but Rachel held on, her eyes burning with desperation. “Just listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me!” Rachel shot up from the kitchen chair, pacing the tiny flat like a caged animal. “Twelve years, Emma! Twelve years I waited for him! When he was at uni, I worked to help him with money. When he was job hunting, I supported him. When his mum was ill, I sat with her in the hospital like I was family! And he… he just—”
Her voice broke, and she dropped back into the chair, covering her face with her hands.
Emma nudged the cup of tea she’d made toward her, though it had gone cold by now.
“Maybe it’s for the best, love? Maybe he wasn’t meant to be yours.”
“Wasn’t meant to be?” Rachel’s head snapped up, her glare making Emma flinch. “Then what is? Sitting alone at forty, wondering what could’ve been?”
“You’re only thirty-eight—”
“Nearly thirty-nine!” Rachel cut in. “And what am I supposed to do now? Start over? Find someone else? Who’d even want me at this age? All the decent blokes are already taken!”
Emma stayed quiet, unsure what to say. She’d known Rachel since uni, watched her swing between hope and despair all these years. James would drift in and out of her life, promising marriage one minute, saying he wasn’t ready the next. And Rachel waited, believing every word.
“Remember when we took those Spanish classes together?” Emma said softly. “You talked about travelling, seeing the world. Then you met James, and you gave it all up.”
“What does Spanish have to do with anything?” Rachel scoffed. “I loved him, Em. Truly loved him. Not like those silly girls who swap men like they’re outfits. And he—he just used me!”
“He didn’t use you, Rach. It just… didn’t work out.”
“Didn’t work out?” Rachel stood, walking to the window, staring at the snowy street below. “You know what he told me when I found out about the wedding? That I know him too well. That with Olivia, it’s exciting because she’s mysterious. Mysterious! A twenty-year-old student who can’t do anything but take selfies!”
“Rachel, don’t torture yourself—”
“I’m not torturing myself! I’m angry! How did this happen? We were happy! Remember when we went to the Lake District last summer? When he bought me flowers? When he told me I was the best?”
“I remember,” Emma nodded. “But that was a long time ago, love.”
“Not that long! Just last year! We talked about kids, what we’d name them. He even picked names! And now Olivia’s two months pregnant!”
Emma flinched.
“Pregnant? You didn’t tell me that!”
“Why would I? So you’d know he’s not just marrying her, but having the baby we dreamed about?”
“Bloody hell, Rachel…” Emma stood, wrapping an arm around her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be! It’s my fault! I should’ve left years ago when he first said he ‘wasn’t ready.’ But I thought I could change him, make him see how good I was—”
“You are good, Rach. You’re kind, clever, beautiful—”
“Beautiful?” Rachel laughed bitterly. “Look at me! Grey hairs, wrinkles, a spare tyre. And his Olivia? Young, slim, trendy. Of course he picked her!”
“It’s not about age or looks!”
“Then what? Explain it, Em! What did I do wrong? Why couldn’t I keep him?”
Emma sat beside her, taking her hands.
“Listen. You did nothing wrong. You were an amazing friend, partner, almost-wife. But James… he’s not the man who could’ve made you happy. He’s selfish, Rach. He only ever cared about himself.”
“No, you don’t know him! He can be so kind, so thoughtful—”
“When it suits him. Remember when he vanished for months when you needed him? When he promised to introduce you to his parents, then made excuses? When he said he loved you but dated others?”
“How do you know about the others?” Rachel turned sharply.
Emma hesitated, looking away.
“I… I saw him a year ago. With some blonde. They were in a café, kissing. I wanted to tell you, but—”
“But you didn’t!” Rachel jumped up, pacing again. “You knew he cheated, and you kept quiet!”
“I wasn’t sure! Maybe they were just friends, or—”
“Or his mistress!” Rachel stopped, glaring. “You should’ve told me! I had a right to know!”
“And what would you have done? Had a row? Left him? We both know you’d have forgiven him, like you always did!”
Rachel opened her mouth—then shut it. Emma was right. She’d forgiven James for everything: late nights, broken promises, disappearing acts. Always making excuses, always believing he’d change.
“You know what hurts most?” Rachel whispered, sitting back down. “I thought we were the same. Shared interests, dreams. Turns out he doesn’t even remember our conversations. When I asked if he recalled our plans, he called it all nonsense.”
“It wasn’t nonsense to you.”
“No. Every word mattered. Every kiss, every moment. To him? I was just… convenient. Reliable. Till something better came along.”
Emma stirred her tea, silent for a moment.
“So… what now?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel admitted. “Sometimes I think I should go to him, scream the truth in his face. Other times, I just want to forget he exists.”
“Maybe forgetting’s better?”
“Easy for you to say! How do you forget twelve years? The man you loved more than yourself? I even changed jobs for him! Remember that offer in London? I turned it down because he ‘didn’t want to live in the city.’”
“I remember. Thought you’d lost the plot.”
“And now I think so too. Lost it. Built my life around him, and he didn’t even notice. Or did, and just expected it.”
Rachel stood, studying herself in the mirror.
“You know, Em, my mum always said: ‘Never give a man everything. Keep something for yourself.’ I didn’t listen. Thought love had to be all-consuming. That if you truly loved someone, you sacrificed everything.”
“Maybe she was right.”
“She was. But I didn’t get it. Thought if I was the perfect girlfriend, he’d see my worth. That patience and loyalty would win.”
“And now?”
“Now I know men don’t value what comes too easily. They want a challenge—like he said. And I was an open book. Predictable. Boring.”
Emma sipped her tea.
“Rach… what if he’s wrong? What if Olivia disappoints him, and he realises what he lost?”
“And then what?” Rachel turned. “He’ll come back, say he was a fool, and I’ll take him in? Wait around till he decides to marry me? No, Em. Even if he returns, I won’t have him back.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m not that girl anymore, settling for scraps. I want a man who loves me for me—not because I’m convenient. One who’s proud of me, not embarrassed.”
“There are men like that.”
“Maybe. But first, I need to figure out who I am without James. Twelve years living for him—his plans, his dreams. What do I even like? What do I want? I don’t even know.”
“Now’s your chance to find out.”
“Yeah. Remember that Spanish idea? Maybe it’s time to learn. Or travel. I’ve never been abroad.”
“Brilliant! I’ll go with you, yeah?”
Rachel smiled for the first time that night.
“Deal. You know what? I’m glad he’s marrying her. Otherwise, I’d still be waiting, hoping. Now it’s clear. It’s over.”
“It’s not over, love. It’s just beginning. Your real life’s starting now.”
“My real life,” Rachel repeated. “Without him. Without waiting, without disappointment. Without hoping he’ll change.”
“Exactly. And you know what? He’ll regret it. One day, he’ll realise what he lost.”
“Maybe,” Rachel shrugged. “Or maybe not. And you know what? I don’t care. Let him have his ‘mysterious’ Olivia. Let him raise their kid. I’m living for me now. FinallyAnd as the snow melted outside, Rachel took a deep breath, picked up her phone, and booked a one-way ticket to Barcelona.
