Pretty and free-spirited Emily fell head over heels for a handsome chap named Oliver, so much so it even caught her off guard. She worked in a beauty salon, and he came in for a haircut, settling into her chair.
“Just a trim, please,” he said politely, locking eyes with hers. A spark flew between them—so strong it nearly knocked her sideways.
*Goodness, what a looker—and those piercing eyes!* Emily thought.
*Blimey, what a stunner working here! Never popped in before—just luck, I suppose. Now, is she taken? A girl like her can’t be single,* Oliver mused as she snipped away.
She finished quickly, then regretted it. *Should’ve taken my time… Oh well, just another customer.*
But Oliver wasn’t about to let a beauty like her slip away. He checked the salon’s opening hours on his way out, pleased he finished work early.
That evening, Emily stepped outside and spotted him waiting with a bouquet. He grinned as he handed them over.
“For me? What’s this for?” she asked, surprised.
“For the haircut—loved it,” he chuckled, and she laughed too. “You free? Fancy a cuppa?”
“Suppose so,” she agreed, though she wondered, *How’s a bloke like this single?*
Over tea, they chatted easily—Oliver was witty and charming, making her laugh so hard she forgot everything else. From then on, they were inseparable. She kept waiting for him to lose interest, but he only grew sweeter and more devoted.
Months passed, and talk of moving in together—even marriage—came up. But Emily couldn’t shake her worry. *Everywhere we go, women eye him up. Gorgeous men can’t be trusted.*
“Emmy,” he’d say (his pet name for her), “what’s got into your head now?”
“I can’t marry you… because you’re *too* handsome. Women stare. I see it.”
“Em, what d’you want me to do—mangle my face?”
She adored him—his dark, smouldering eyes, his warm gaze under thick lashes, his sharp features. Oliver was kind, loyal, and obsessed with computers—and her.
Eventually, she caved. They married.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he’d murmur, hugging her. She melted every time, though she knew men still glanced her way. But now, only Oliver mattered—even if women still fancied him.
Then a new stylist, Katie, joined the salon—pretty, chatty, and overly friendly. One day, she spotted Oliver picking Emily up for lunch.
“*Good lord*, who’s *that*?” Katie gasped, watching him step out of his car.
“That’s Emily’s husband,” a coworker said.
“*Husband?!* No way!” Katie looked floored.
From then on, Katie couldn’t rest. She wanted him—and wouldn’t stop until she got him. She needled Emily constantly.
“Emily, aren’t you scared someone’ll nick him? A man that handsome’s dangerous.”
“Nope,” Emily said, though doubt gnawed at her.
Katie kept at it. “Everything alright between you two? Still got him on a tight leash?”
“*Perfectly* fine,” Emily snapped, giving her a look that shut her up briefly. “Believe it or not, Katie, my husband only wants *me*.”
Katie backtracked. “Didn’t mean anything by it! Not after your man, promise.”
But Emily grew uneasy. Katie’s obsession was obvious. *Why do people meddle? We’re happy—leave us be.*
Still, Katie prodded. “Handsome blokes are trouble, love. Been burned before—bloke like yours, women threw themselves at him.”
“Not all men are like that,” Emily defended.
One day, Oliver dropped by unannounced, but Emily had popped to the shops. He rang her.
“Thought we’d grab lunch?”
“You should’ve called! Had errands. At the till now.”
Back at the salon, Katie purred, “Your *gorgeous* hubby stopped by. *What* a man.”
“I know—he called. Did he say anything?” Emily pressed.
“No, but he *lingered*.”
Emily saw Katie was smitten. All day, questions about Oliver kept coming.
That evening, over dinner, Emily asked, “Why’d you stay so long earlier?”
“*Me?* It was *Katie*. Came crawling the second you were gone. I bolted.”
Emily didn’t press further but felt uneasy. Katie was *playing* her.
Then Katie went further. “Why no kids? Ah, right—harder to leave if you’ve got ’em. Oliver’s *such* a catch.”
Even coworkers told Katie to back off. Emily stayed calm, though inside, she seethed.
“All men cheat, love. Yours will too. Saw you weren’t there—he was *flirting*,” Katie lied, trying to rattle her.
Emily told Oliver that night.
“That Katie’s a right piece of work. Came onto me, then spun tales when I shut her down.”
Emily stewed. Days passed before she decided to test them. She asked Oliver to visit after lunch, then hid when his car arrived.
“Where’s Emily?” she heard him ask.
“Oliiiiver,” Katie cooed. “She’s *vanished*—what a liar, eh? Stay, I’ll make coffee.”
Emily clenched her fists, ready to storm out—then heard a scuffle.
“Get off! You’re *married*!”
“If you weren’t a woman, I’d knock you flat,” Oliver growled.
Emily burst out, meeting him outside.
“Where’ve you been? We had plans!” he snapped.
“Sorry! Had to dash to the shops,” she lied, grinning.
“You left me with *that* lunatic. Quit this place—she’s toxic.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said breezily, watching him drive off.
*Quit? But what if the next salon’s worse? I love him… but spying? He’d be livid.* She walked back in, cheerful.
Katie stayed silent. She’d seen Oliver kiss Emily’s cheek through the window.
