“We’re on first-name terms now,” Dmitri murmured softly, his breath warm against Anna’s temple. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Lydia, could you check if anyone’s left in the hallway? I wanted to leave early today—it’s Mum’s birthday,” Anna said.
“Right away, Dr. Hart,” replied the young, pretty nurse, rising from her desk. She opened the office door and peered into the corridor. “No one’s here, Dr. Hart. And I’ve checked the appointments—all done,” Lydia added with a smile.
“Good. If anyone comes in, schedule them for tomorrow or send them next door to Dr. Clarke.”
“Go on, I’ll handle everything. Don’t worry,” Lydia reassured her. “The clinic director’s away on business—I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks. What would I do without you?” Anna grabbed her bag, glanced at her desk to ensure she hadn’t forgotten her phone, and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow, Lydia.”
“Goodbye, Dr. Hart. Oh, you’d better hurry—look how dark it’s gotten. It’ll start pouring any minute.”
“Really? I still need to pick up flowers. Well, off I go,” Anna said, already stepping into the hallway.
She changed quickly, pulling on her raincoat as she hurried down the stairs.
“Dr. Hart, are you leaving already?” An elderly woman stopped her at the reception desk.
“Hello. Could it wait till tomorrow? I’m in a bit of a rush,” Anna replied, adjusting her collar as she moved toward the exit.
“Dr. Hart, little Sophie only listens to you. Could you just pop in and calm her down? She’s been crying nonstop,” the woman pleaded, keeping pace with Anna.
“I’ve got evening appointments tomorrow—I’ll come by in the morning after my rounds. But right now, I really must dash. Sorry.” Anna pushed through the clinic doors and descended the steps, glancing up at the sky.
A monstrous black cloud loomed over London, so low it seemed its swollen belly might scrape the rooftops before bursting, unleashing a deluge.
As Anna approached the flower stall, the first heavy drops hit her shoulders. She barely made it under the awning before the rain intensified.
“Don’t worry, I’ll wrap these up properly,” the florist said.
While the woman bundled Anna’s mother’s favorite gerberas in thick cellophane, Anna anxiously watched bus after bus pull away from the stop. Finally, she took the bouquet, paid, and dashed toward the shelter, holding the flowers over her head like a makeshift umbrella.
The rain had turned relentless. Anna was the only one left at the stop. At least there was a roof. She’d forgotten her umbrella and was thoroughly drenched by the time she reached it.
No bus in sight. She should’ve waited inside, spoken to Sophie’s gran—too late for regrets now. Shivering, she edged further under the shelter. Cars sped past, spraying arcs of water from the growing puddles.
*Where is it? Of all the times for a downpour*, Anna thought, peering down the road. Suddenly, a black Range Rover pulled up to the kerb. *Must be nice to have a car*, she mused enviously. *No waiting in the rain…*
The passenger window slid down, revealing a man. It took her a moment to realise he was speaking to her.
“Get in. There’s been an accident—buses are stuck.”
While Anna hesitated, he leaned over and pushed the door open. Warmth enveloped her as she slipped inside, the roar of the rain instantly muffled.
“Where to?” the man asked, his gaze steady.
Around her age, handsome in a tailored suit. Anna flushed. *I must look like a drowned rat.*
“Tudor Lane,” she said.
“Good—I’m headed that way.”
His confidence was palpable, his charisma almost disarming. Anna stole a wary glance. No serial killer vibes—just sharp eyes and an air of effortless authority. *Leading-man material*, she thought. The car glided forward, its leather interior rich with the scent of his expensive cologne. A soft chime sounded.
“Seatbelt,” he reminded her.
Anna fumbled with the clasp, then adjusted the bouquet on her lap.
“Why did you stop for me?” she asked, watching the wipers sweep rhythmically across the windscreen.
“Like I said—accident. You’d have waited ages. And you’ve got flowers—clearly off somewhere important. Plus, turns out we’re going the same way.” He shot her a quick look.
*This doesn’t happen. Men like him don’t pick up random women.* She bit back the comment.
“Your face is familiar. We’ve met before. I never forget one.”
“Unlikely,” Anna scoffed. “We’re from different worlds. Different *social strata*, as they say.”
She felt his assessing glance like a touch.
“Men like you don’t ride buses. I’m just a humble GP,” she added, a touch sharply.
He said nothing. The silence stretched, thickening with her regret.
“I remember now. Two months ago—I brought my granddaughter to your clinic.”
“You?” Anna gaped. “I’d have remembered *you*,” slipped out before she could stop it.
“Do I look too young to be a granddad? Swear it’s true. My daughter had her at seventeen. Kids these days—growing up too fast.”
“Apples don’t fall far,” Anna retorted.
“Feisty. I knew you were strict—saw it straight away that day.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Depends,” he evaded. “Did you used to live on Tudor Lane?”
“Yes.”
“Wenton Grammar, class of 2000?”
“How did you—?”
“I went there too. Odd we never crossed paths before.” His quick glance sent heat to her cheeks.
“What year did you graduate?”
“’97.”
“I finished in 2000,” Anna said, oddly cheered by the gap.
“Bet you were top of the class. Too busy studying to notice boys—dreamed of uni, becoming a doctor. Am I right?”
Anna bristled, but her mother’s house came into view.
“Turn into that estate. Second building, please.”
“Sorry, I can’t pull right up—you’d step into a puddle.” He moved to get out, but Anna was already on the wet pavement, hurrying toward the entrance.
When she glanced back, the Range Rover was driving away. Too late, she realized she hadn’t even thanked him.
Inside, the flat smelled of vanilla. Her mother gasped at the flowers.
“Oh, you’re soaked! Get into your slippers—tea’s just brewed. I made your favourite cake…”
“Did your friends cancel?” Anna eyed the empty lounge.
“I didn’t invite them. We see enough of each other. No need for gifts on my pension. Just us tonight. So—who gave you the lift? A secret admirer?”
“You were watching? Just a stranger. There was an accident—no buses.”
“Handsome stranger,” her mother noted.
“You had time to *notice*?”
“I’ve still got eyes,” her mother huffed.
They ate cake by the telly. Anna’s eyelids grew heavy. Her mother prattled about her needing a man, moving on, starting a family…
“Mum, *please*. I see enough kids at work—I don’t need my own.” She yawned, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder.
A mention of the neighbour’s son faded as sleep took her. She woke to darkness beyond the curtains, her mother knitting under the lamplight.
“You’re so good here. Like being a kid again.”
“Your old room’s made up,” her mother said, needles clicking.
Anna lingered, savouring the safety. But sleep wouldn’t return. She replayed the ride, the man’s effortless charm. *Stop fantasising. Men like that don’t happen.* She rolled over and willed the morning to come.
A week passed. Every evening, her pulse quickened as she left the clinic—but the Range Rover never reappeared.
*You sent him away. Serves you right.*
Then, on Friday, rain fell again. Autumn had stripped the trees bare. Anna ducked under the bus shelter, umbrella in hand, shoulders aching from back-to-back home visits. The crowd jostled for space.
“Love, is that for you?” A woman nudged her, pointing.
Anna tilted her umbrella. The Range Rover idled at the kerb, passenger door open. Her heart leapt.
Dmitri smiled as she slid in. “Sorry I vanished—urgent business. But today’s rain… I wanted to see you.”
*Oh god—first-name terms now.* Leather and cologne enveloped her.
“I’m sorry I threw you out. I’m not used to—well, *any* of this. I’m always tired, I barely cook… I’m not what you’d expect—”
“How do you knowShe leaned in, finally letting herself believe that happiness, even after all this time, could still pull up to the curb and open its door.
