**Diary Entry – 12th October**
*”We’re on first-name terms now,”* James whispered right by my ear. His breath tickled my temple, sending shivers down my spine.
*”Emily, could you check if anyone’s left in the hallway? I need to leave early—it’s Mum’s birthday,”* I said, hurrying to grab my coat.
*”Right away, Dr. Bennett!”* The young nurse, sweet as ever, popped her head into the corridor. *”All clear, and I’ve checked the appointments—done for the day!”*
*”Brilliant. If anyone turns up, just reschedule them for tomorrow with Dr. Whitmore.”*
*”Go on, I’ll handle everything,”* Emily reassured me. *”The clinic director’s away—I’ve got your back!”*
*”Cheers. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”* I scanned my desk for my phone, slung my bag over my shoulder, and dashed out. *”See you tomorrow, Emily.”*
*”Mind how you go—looks like rain!”* she called after me.
*”Blast, I still need to grab flowers.”*
Downstairs, an elderly woman intercepted me. *”Dr. Bennett, could you spare a moment?”*
*”I’m in a rush—tomorrow?”* I adjusted my trench coat, already halfway to the exit.
*”It’s my granddaughter—she only listens to you. She’s been crying nonstop…”*
*”I’ll pop by after my rounds tomorrow, I promise.”* Outside, the sky loomed dark, swollen with rain.
By the flower stall, the first fat drops hit my shoulders. *”Don’t fret, I’ll wrap these tight,”* the florist said, bundling Mum’s favourite gerberas as I eyed the disappearing buses. Paid in pounds, I sprinted to the stop, shielding my head with the bouquet.
The downpour had emptied the streets. No bus in sight—should’ve stayed inside. I shivered under the shelter when a black Range Rover pulled up.
The passenger window rolled down. *”Jump in. There’s been an accident—buses are stuck,”* the driver said.
Before I could overthink, I was inside, warmth enveloping me. *”Where to?”*
*”Hanover Mews.”*
He looked about my age—sharp suit, confident. *”You seem familiar,”* he mused.
*”Doubtful,”* I scoffed. *”Men like you don’t ride buses.”*
*”I brought my granddaughter to your clinic two months ago. Remember?”*
*”You? Granddad? Hardly.”*
*”Teenage daughter, teenage granddaughter—life’s funny,”* he chuckled.
We bantered about our old school—turns out he’d graduated three years before me. When we reached Mum’s, I bolted out, forgetting to thank him.
Mum fussed over my wet clothes. *”Who gave you a lift? A secret admirer?”*
*”Just a stranger.”*
Later, drowsy on the sofa, I replayed his smile. *Stop dreaming*, I scolded myself.
A week later, he reappeared outside the clinic, holding a brooch I’d dropped. *”Dinner?”*
Over wine, James confessed he’d lost his wife years ago. *”Fate led me to you,”* he said.
Back at my flat, my cat ignored me indignantly. James laughed, making coffee like he belonged there. We pored over old school photos—then his lips brushed mine. I panicked, shooed him out.
*”You’re an idiot,”* my best mate Lucy said later. *”A man like that doesn’t come twice!”*
But the next Friday, there he was—waiting in the rain. *”Forgive me for leaving. I missed you,”* he said, whisking me off to dinner. *”I’ve got tickets to the Royal Opera House. No arguments—you’re exactly who I want.”*
Funny how life works. My aunt remarried at fifty-six, moved to Spain, swore it was a new beginning. Maybe second chances aren’t just for others.
Here’s to luck—and love.
