**Led by the Heart**
Emily stepped out of her office and spotted the lift doors sliding open as people shuffled inside.
“Wait!” she called out, hurrying over.
Catching the lift at the end of the workday was as tricky as in the mornings. Emily slipped in at the last second, squeezing past the crowd. She had to press close against the chest of the man in front of her just so the doors could close behind her.
“Sorry,” she murmured, turning her face away—otherwise, his chin would have brushed her forehead. He smelled faintly of cologne.
“No worries.”
They rode down to the ground floor like that, pressed together.
When the lift stopped, Emily stepped backward out of the cab. The man followed, gently holding her wrist to steady her, guiding her aside before the exiting crowd could jostle her. It almost felt like a dance. Before she could catch her breath or thank him properly, her friend Charlotte appeared beside her.
“Off home? I can give you a lift.”
Distracted, Emily barely got a proper look at the man, missing her chance to thank him.
“No, I’ll walk. Need some fresh air.”
They stepped outside. A light drizzle misted the air, and people hurried by under umbrellas.
“It’s raining. Wait here, I’ll get the car.”
“Thanks, Char, but I’ll walk.” Emily dug out a compact umbrella from her bag.
“Fine, if you insist,” Charlotte said, eyeing her suspiciously.
Emily waved goodbye, popped open her umbrella, and melted into the foot traffic of car-less colleagues rushing home. She wanted to be alone, to think—honestly, she wasn’t in any hurry to get back.
The umbrella was more trouble than it was worth, forcing her to dodge others’ while keeping hers from jabbing someone. She closed it and tucked it away. On the trees, buds swelled, and here and there, tender new leaves had already unfurled. Spring’s first green was so fleeting—she wanted to memorise it.
As she walked, Emily wondered how she’d ended up in the wrong place again—figuratively, not literally. Her flat, left to her by her grandmother, meant no mortgage or loans. But that very security had drawn the wrong kind of men. Too late, she’d realised that.
So she took the long way home, stalling, anything to delay facing the flat where Liam was waiting. Though not for *her*—just for the dinner she’d cook him. And yet, it had all started so beautifully…
***
She and her mum had lived alone since her dad left when Emily was nine. When she was in Year 11, her mum remarried. Suddenly, there was a strange man in the house, and Emily, used to lounging in shorts and a tank top, got scolded. *”You can’t parade about half-dressed in front of an adult man.”* She’d already felt awkward around him—now she barely left her room unless she had to.
Her grandmother solved things by inviting Emily to stay—to give the “new couple” time to adjust. Everyone agreed.
Emily was in her first year at university when her grandmother passed away, leaving her alone.
She’d fancied Daniel at uni. Girls swarmed him. What chance did Emily have of catching the eye of a rugby-playing Adonis? But one lecture, he sat beside her. A month later, he moved in.
Her mum warned her it wouldn’t end well. Emily refused to listen. *Her* love was different. They argued, and Emily cut ties.
For nearly two years, they played house. As graduation neared, Emily was certain a proposal loomed. But after the diplomas were handed out and toasted, Daniel dropped the bomb.
“I’m leaving.”
“Going home? When will you be back?”
“I won’t be. First home, then London. My uncle’s offered me work there.”
“And me?”
“Em, come on. It’s been good, hasn’t it? I’m grateful—you saved me from halls. But I need to move on. I’m not ready to settle. I want a career, a flat in London, to travel, see the world. I never promised you anything.”
“We could go together—”
“No, we couldn’t.”
As he spoke, Emily realised she didn’t know him at all. She begged, pleaded, swore her love.
“I don’t love you. It was *comfortable* living with you. You’re sweet, kind—you’ll meet someone decent, marry, have kids. But that’s not for me. Not yet. Thanks, but our paths split here.”
He left. Emily sobbed into her pillow for days. Her mum came, didn’t gloat—just held her. The bitterest pill? Daniel had never loved her. He’d used her. For the flat. The one silver lining—she and her mum reconciled.
***
Emily took a long time to recover. She avoided dating. Most of her colleagues were women anyway.
At the bus stop each morning, she often saw the same guy. They’d ride together a few stops, exchanging smiles, greetings—eventually snippets of conversation. She liked it: no pressure, just friendly familiarity. Mornings, she’d hurry for the bus, wondering if she’d see him. Her heart fluttered when she did.
Then, one day, he vanished. She waited, missed buses hoping he’d appear.
Then—there he was.
“Where’ve you been? Were you ill?”
“Got made redundant. No more office commute. Working from home now—harder than it sounds. Mum needs help, my sister distracts me. Job hunting’s grim. I missed seeing you. Never even got your name.”
“Emily.”
“Liam. Friends call me Lee.”
They walked, chatting, slipping into first-name terms.
“Will I see you again?” Emily asked outside her building.
“Course. I live close. I’ll come by the stop.”
And he did—often waiting to walk her home. Emily kept her solo living a secret, wary of being used again. But Liam never invited himself in, never pushed. He wasn’t in digs—he lived with his mum and sister.
She liked him. Liked their easy, uncomplicated bond. He was ordinary—not a heartthrob like Daniel. At twenty-five, she craved love, to love and be loved. Bad memories faded fast.
One rainy evening, she invited him in. Then suggested he move in. Quieter for work, no more bus-stop dashes.
Liam never found another job. Said freelance web design paid better than office work. Weekends were whenever he fancied.
Mornings, Emily left for work; Liam stayed. Peeled potatoes, boiled pasta. Did groceries—sometimes.
He proposed quickly. The wedding was postponed—his earnings split between his family and “savings.” She liked that, too.
But returning home, she increasingly found him on the sofa, beer in hand. The potato-peeling stopped. The shops became her job.
“Mum’s ill—gave her money for meds. Sister’s got prom—outfits cost a fortune now.”
His stubble grew. Why shave? Who’d see him?
Getting him out got harder. Trackies became his uniform.
“You were meant to hang the laundry. Now it’s creased beyond ironing.”
“Working from home doesn’t mean housework. I earn money—*your* bills get paid. If I have a beer and watch footie, that’s my right.”
Fights escalated. The wedding wasn’t mentioned.
When she asked about savings—by her maths, enough for three weddings and a Bahamas honeymoon—he exploded.
“My money. My family. You’re not my wife—no right to demand anything.”
He backpedalled—*”Didn’t mean it like that”*—but the damage was done.
She stopped rushing home. Awaited her: dishes, beer cans, cooking for two. Liam had put on weight, grown a gut. Heart-to-hearts had died. Every attempt sparked a row.
Now, despite the rain, she walked slowly. Debating how to end it.
“Izzy!”
She didn’t react.
“Hadley!”
Emily turned. A suited man with a neat beard was stepping from a Lexus, grinning.
“Been yelling. You spaced out?”
“Rob? Robbie? Look at you!”
“Yeah. You haven’t changed—still gorgeous.”
They talked over each other—*”How are you? What do you do?”*
“Married, six-year-old son. Another due soon—hoping for a girl.” His business success was undeniable.
Emily thought of her flat, her job—little else. Twenty-six, no family. A property wasn’t a substitute.
“And you?”
“Fine. Career-focused. Free as a bird.”
“Smart. You’re young. Always knew you’d go far.” His grin softened. “Had a crush on you at school. You never noticed.”
For a second, warmth flickered in his eyes.
She *hadn’t* noticed the lanky, awkward boy. Who’d have guessed he’She smiled, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and stepped into the lift with the handsome stranger, already feeling the first flutter of something new and real.
