“Hello. We never did go to the cinema that day, did we?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, all his carefully rehearsed lines forgotten.
William and Emily sat by the riverbank, dreaming aloud about university, careers, and buying a flat in London.
“I’ll get a sleek German car—the best one. And we’ll make it all happen,” William said, skipping a stone across the water.
“We’ll holiday in Spain or somewhere exotic,” Emily added with a laugh, watching the ripples fade. “But first, we have to get into uni. God, I’m so sick of studying already.”
“We’ll get in.” William pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
At that moment, they were certain no one had ever loved like they did—that nothing could ever tear them apart.
“We should head home. Mum’ll be worried. And it’s freezing.” Emily stood from the bench and winced, slipping off her new heels. The cobblestones were cool under her bare feet as they walked.
“Fancy catching a film tomorrow? There’s that new rom-com on,” William suggested.
They chatted about nothing and everything, their laughter light and careless.
“Till tomorrow,” Emily said at her door, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek before darting inside.
“So, shall I book the tickets?” he called after her.
She didn’t answer, just smiled before the door clicked shut.
The city still slept, the June dawn smothering the last stars. It was the first morning of their new lives—no longer schoolchildren, but adults.
William crept into the house, careful not to wake his mother. Exhausted, he fell into bed, drifting off with the certainty of happiness.
By afternoon, he was back outside Emily’s window. She peered out, then hurried down to meet him.
“Got the tickets,” he said, waving them triumphantly.
“Will, I—I can’t. Mum’s sister’s here. She’s married now, moving to France. Left us a flat in London. We have to go with her tomorrow to sort things out… I’m moving.”
“When are you coming back?” he asked, still processing.
“I don’t know. I’ll be applying to uni there.”
“What about me? About us? We were supposed to do this together—” His voice cracked.
“Will, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance! It’s not like I’m vanishing—you can visit. Why don’t you apply to a London uni too?” Her eyes lit up. “Come with me!”
“And live where? What would your parents say? I don’t have a rich aunt handing me flats. And my mum—she’s on her own—”
“We’ll figure it out,” Emily said breezily.
“When do you leave?” His voice was hollow.
“Tomorrow morning. Still need to pack. It’s all so sudden… If you love me, you’ll find a way to make this work.”
“And if you loved me—” William cut himself off, turned, and walked away.
Emily called after him, but he didn’t look back. He broke into a run, only slowing when she was long out of sight. His chest ached like a pack of wolves had clawed it open. *She’ll forget me. New friends, a new life. And who am I? Just some bloke from a nowhere town.*
“Fine. Go then. I’ll be fine. I’ll make something of myself… You’ll regret this,” he muttered under his breath all the way home.
He collapsed onto his bed, face buried in the wall, and stayed there for two days. His mother nearly called an ambulance, convinced he was ill.
“You need to study, Will. If you fail your A-levels, it’s the army for you. And Emily won’t look twice at a dropout.”
Her words snapped him out of it. He forced himself to revise, but Emily’s face haunted every page. Between study sessions, he punished himself on the pull-up bar in the yard, exhausting his body so his mind would shut up. He’d achieve everything they’d dreamt of together. Then he’d go to London, find her, and—
But first, he had to get into uni.
And he did—much to his mother’s pride. Every day, he waited for a letter from Emily. He would’ve written, but he didn’t have her address. Too late, he cursed himself for storming off like a child, for not saying goodbye, for not asking. He’d go now if he could, but how do you find one girl in a city of millions?
All through uni, he clung to hope that she’d write. In his final year, recruiters from top firms courted students. William applied to a new engineering plant just outside London—closer to Emily, maybe even close enough to find her.
His mother approved. Six months in, he got a flat. A year later, he married Lucy, a quick-witted brunette from accounts. They had a daughter, Margaret.
“I hate that name. So old-fashioned,” Lucy pouted.
“Classics never go out of style. Maggie. Sounds perfect,” William insisted.
Ten years on, William was deputy director—a big house, a German saloon, all the trappings of success. His mother sold her flat to help with the mortgage and moved in to watch Maggie.
Business took him abroad—China, Italy, France. He learned French on the fly. The boy from the Midlands was now a polished executive.
Then, one night, he dreamt of Emily. She stood by the river at dusk, just as she had years ago. *”We never did go to the cinema,”* she said sadly.
Over time, he thought of her less—just fleeting glimpses, like flipping through an old photo album. But after that dream, she wouldn’t leave his mind. Where was she? Married, probably. He forbade himself from dwelling on it. Yet he burned to see her, to show her how far he’d come—without her.
One lunch break, he typed her name into a social media search, narrowing it to London. Hundreds of Emilys stared back. Only when he added their hometown did he find her.
He devoured every photo—her laughing by a pool, playing with a Labrador on a manicured lawn, holding hands with a little boy. Her profile was sparse: *”Live in France. Married. One son.”* Some unpronounceable town.
He remembered her talk of a “once-in-a-lifetime chance.” Well, she’d surpassed even her own dreams. He’d done alright too. So why did his chest ache?
He sent a short message—*”Saw your profile. So glad life’s treating you well.”* No reply. Only then did he notice she hadn’t logged in for two years.
A thought struck him like a lightning bolt: she’d made that profile just so he could find her. That’s why she’d listed their hometown. *She’d been looking for him.* The idea flooded him with warmth.
Memories gnawed at him. He rang an old schoolmate, now a detective.
“London? You joking?” his friend said.
“Please. They didn’t vanish, did they?”
“Could be in France by now. Fine, I’ll try.”
Days later, the call came. They’d sold their London flat two years after moving. The father’s passport details were still on file.
William started spending evenings online. Lucy grew suspicious. One day, while he was out, she checked his laptop—and found the saved link to Emily’s profile.
When he got home, she confronted him.
“Are you seeing someone?”
“What? How could you think that?”
“Then who’s this?” She jabbed a finger at Emily’s photo.
“Just an old schoolmate. I stumbled on her profile.”
Guilt burned his throat. He’d done nothing wrong—so why did he feel caught?
*”Just* an old schoolmate,” Lucy echoed tonelessly. “Mum mentioned you had some great love at school. Still hung up on her? Is that why you named our daughter Margaret?”
Her voice was steady, but her fingers trembled. “You’ve spent years proving yourself—the house, the car, the job. You’re not that boy from the Midlands anymore. You wanted her to see what she missed.”
William flinched. She was right.
“But you can’t rewrite the past. The Emily you’re chasing doesn’t exist anymore. She’s got her own life, probably a family she won’t throw away for you.”
Lucy’s composure cracked. “Honestly? I almost wish you’d meet her. Maybe then you’d see the past for what it is—gone. Maybe then you’d let it go.”
William held her, vowing his love was for her and Maggie now. He meant it.
Yet the address gnawed at him. Weeks later, he cracked.
Emily’s mother didn’t recognise him at the door. He stumbled through introductions—
“Mum, who is it?”
Emily appeared—paler, thinner, but unmistakably her.
“William?” Her voice held shockWilliam looked at her, the woman who had once been his future, and softly repeated the words that had haunted him for twenty years: “We never did go to the cinema that day, did we?” before turning and walking away for the last time.
