Lydia stood outside Simon’s flat, fiddling nervously with her handbag strap. Two and a half years ago, she’d stormed out, convinced that Peter—his flashy, well-off friend with the sports car—would give her the glamorous life she craved. But Peter turned out to be anything but a knight in shining armour, and now Lydia was back, hopeful. “Simon always loved me,” she thought. “He’ll take me back—where else would he go?” She rang the bell, smoothed her hair, and plastered on a smile. The door swung open, and Simon’s startled “Blimey, look what the cat dragged in!” gave her a flicker of confidence.
“Guess who’s back?” she beamed, inhaling the smell of roast potatoes and sausages. “Cooking dinner? Smells delicious.” Simon frowned. “Back? Here?” She nodded, but his next words threw her. “We’ve already eaten. Sorry, not inviting you in.” “We?” she echoed, a knot twisting in her stomach. “Who’s ‘we’?” Just then, a woman stepped out of the kitchen. Lydia blinked—it was Olivia, her old mate, the one she’d shared Prosecco with while plotting her grand escape from Simon.
Lydia and Simon had married five years ago, but their marriage was more bickering than bliss. She wanted the high life: fancy restaurants, holidays abroad, designer dresses. Simon, a humble IT technician, did his best, but his paycheque didn’t stretch to her dreams. His parents sent groceries from their village to help, but Lydia sneered, “I’m not eating their homemade cheese!” She maxed out her credit cards on clothes and the latest phone, then demanded more from Simon. “You’re broke,” she’d snap. “Why did I even marry you?” When he asked her to tidy up, she’d scoff, “Your flat, your mess.”
Everything changed when Peter waltzed in. Charming, loaded, he whisked her off to fancy bistros and spun promises of a life in the fast lane. Olivia had warned her, “Lyd, he’s a player—think twice!” But Lydia didn’t listen. She packed her bags, tossed Simon the keys, and swanned off with Peter without so much as a goodbye. Olivia stayed behind, cleaning up the chaos Lydia left. “Have him if you want,” Lydia had laughed. “He’s all yours!” Never dreaming her words would come true.
Life with Peter wasn’t the fairy tale she’d imagined. His generosity came with strings, and his “nights out with mates” grew harder to ignore. After two years, she heard Simon had been promoted, bought a car, and stayed single. “He’s waiting for me,” she decided, scribbling a note to Peter before fleeing. But now, standing in the doorway, she gaped at Olivia, who simply said, “Well, well. Look who’s back. Didn’t think you’d mind—you gave him away, remember?”
Lydia’s cheeks burned. “You’re married?” she choked out. Simon nodded. “Yep. And we’re happy. What did you expect?” She floundered. “I thought… maybe we could…” Olivia cut in gently, “Lydia, your parents will be glad to see you. Simon and I have plans. Ta-ra.” The door shut, leaving Lydia alone on the landing, clinging to her bag.
She remembered Olivia scrubbing that flat, baking scones, visiting her nan—things Lydia had mocked as “quaint.” Now she saw it: Olivia gave Simon what she never could—warmth, comfort, love. Returning to Peter wasn’t an option; her dramatic exit note had seen to that. Her parents? They’d distanced themselves after her choices. Sinking onto a bench outside, she whispered, “Bloody hell, what have I done?” But no answer came.
Upstairs, Simon and Olivia set the table. A month later, twins arrived, and Simon’s parents—adoring their new daughter-in-law—couldn’t have been prouder. Lydia, meanwhile, was left with nothing but regrets. Life, as Olivia had warned, doesn’t forgive those who trade what’s real for a daydream.
