Emily stepped into the room and paused on the threshold. There stood Charlotte in her wedding dress and she looked absolutely radiant. The gown hugged her figure just right, and her eyes held a quiet, almost floating happiness. Emily couldn’t help but burst out with enthusiasm:
“Goodness, you look like you’re glowing from the inside out!” she exclaimed, her gaze fixed on her friend. “I’m over the moon for you! At last, you’ve turned over a new leaf and let your heart open to fresh possibilities, leaving James in the dust! You’re a proper star!”
Charlotte gave a tiny wince, and her smile vanished like a puff of smoke. She quickly busied herself with the dress’s fastenings, avoiding Emily’s eyes.
“I’d better take this off,” she murmured, deftly undoing the tiny hooks along the side. “The big day is only two weeks away. If anything goes wrong with the dress, we won’t find another one like it in a hurry.”
Emily bit her lip. She knew right away she’d put her foot in it. Why on earth had she mentioned James? Now that Charlotte had finally met a decent chap, dredging up the past was the last thing needed! James hadn’t been worth a single one of Charlotte’s tears not after the mess he’d made of things!
Once, Charlotte had honestly believed he was her soulmate, the one and only. She thought their romance was the real deal, meant to last! But bit by bit, it all started crumbling. First he pulled away, making excuses not to see her, then he started openly picking apart her decisions, her mates, her ambitions. He talked her into ditching a great work project, coaxed her out of an internship overseas, and then pushed her to switch careers altogether.
Charlotte’s family couldn’t figure out what was going on with her. They watched her change, losing her spark, but were powerless to help. Any attempt at a heart-to-heart turned into rows James had persuaded Charlotte that her folks just didn’t approve of him and were out to wreck their “ideal love”. The tension built up, until Charlotte barely spoke to her parents at all.
Then one day he was gone. Just left without a word, no explanation, not even a note to say ta-ta. All that was left was a deep wound in her heart and a child, whom Charlotte chose to keep come what may.
Now, as she watched her friend rush to remove the wedding dress, Emily felt a stab of guilt. She’d only wanted to share in Charlotte’s joy, to see her happy. She certainly hadn’t meant to poke at old scars…
Little James had just turned four. He was a bundle of energy and curiosity, forever asking questions about the world. One minute he’d be wondering why the sky’s blue, the next where clouds disappear to, then he’d be thrilled spotting creepy-crawlies on a stroll. The staff at the nursery often praised his smarts: James picked up new things fast, could memorise poems in a jiffy, and loved listening to lengthy bedtime tales.
He spent nearly all his time at his grandparents’ Charlotte’s mum and dad. They’d taken to looking after their grandson with gusto and did their best to nurture him. They were the ones who picked the nursery that taught English, the ones who got him into swimming lessons, the ones who signed him up for dance classes. Charlotte popped in to see her son a few times a week, but never stayed more than an hour.
The cause was straightforward and sore. Little James was the spitting image of his dad. Same dark curly locks, same eye shape, same cheeky little grin. Every time Charlotte looked at her boy, it felt like stepping back in time to when she’d imagined they’d be a happy family. She adored him to bits, beamed at his accomplishments, delighted in every smile. Yet with the love came that sharp, pinching pain. The moment she lifted him up or met his gaze, tears would spring to her eyes. She’d turn away, pretend to fix his clothes or hunt for something in her bag, then have a quiet weep once he was out of sight.
One evening, Charlotte stopped by her parents’ to collect James. The lad was on the rug, piecing together a jigsaw, brow furrowed in focus. Spotting his mum, he leapt up with a grin and dashed over.
“Mum, look!” he tugged her towards the puzzle. “I’m nearly done. There’s a house and a tree, and over here… over here goes the dog!”
Charlotte knelt beside him, forcing a smile.
“Lovely,” she said, ruffling his hair. “Well done, you’re so careful with it all.”
James paused, then lifted his eyes to her:
“Mum, where’s my dad? All the other kids at nursery have dads, except me…”
Charlotte went still. Her insides knotted up, but she kept her voice steady:
“I don’t know, love. Dad’s a long way away just now. But he thinks of you, truly.”
“Why doesn’t he ring?” James scowled, like he was tackling a tricky riddle. “I could tell him I’ve learned to tie my own laces!”
“He’s… he’s just terribly busy,” Charlotte mumbled, feeling a lump form in her throat. “But I’m certain he’s proud of you.”
The boy pondered for a moment, then nodded as though it made sense, and turned back to the puzzle.
“Alright. I’ll finish this house then, and Dad can see what a clever clogs I am!”
Charlotte stayed next to him, observing, and quietly gulped back her tears. She wanted to add something comforting, but the words stuck. So instead she reached out and stroked his hair once more, inhaling the smell of kiddie shampoo and clinging to this moment her son right there, content and trusting, even with all the questions she couldn’t answer.
Even so, Charlotte kept mulling over James. In her heart of hearts she still made excuses for him. Perhaps something awful had befallen him? Maybe he’d landed in hot water and couldn’t get word to her? These notions helped her stay afloat, kept her from sinking into despair.
Her nearest and dearest had tried more than once to have a straight talk. Mum would gently suggest it wasn’t healthy to dwell on the past, that she should concentrate on her son and moving forward. Friends were blunt: “He walked out on you. Time to face facts and get on with it!” But Charlotte wouldn’t hear a word of it. She’d argue passionately, recount how happy they’d been, bring up the promises he’d made. Rows often concluded with her clamming up, and the others, with a sigh, letting it drop.
Meanwhile, Charlotte wasn’t twiddling her thumbs. Now and then she’d check social media, ring up old haunts where he might turn up, even put out posts begging for help tracking him down. All for nothing! Yet she couldn’t or wouldn’t accept that James had simply chosen to leave and had no plans to return.
Then, after five long years, along came a fellow who managed to thaw Charlotte’s heart. It was nearly by chance: they bumped into each other at a birthday bash for a shared friend. Henry caught her eye straight away. The chap was… dependable, there was no other word for it. He was the genuine article! Honest, kind, attentive… Simply the best!
Right from the start, Charlotte felt she could be herself around him. Henry didn’t insist on her putting on a brave face or smiling non-stop. If she was knackered, he’d just suggest heading home. If she fancied some peace and quiet, he didn’t push her to chat. Henry was the sort of man she’d apparently been seeking: steady, even-tempered and, above all, truly smitten.
His affection showed in the small stuff: knowing beforehand which coffee she fancied, recalling her workmates’ names and asking after them, casually handling the everyday bits and bobs. He seemed ready to carry her on a silver platter, and Charlotte, if we’re being frank, was making the most of it.
What really got to her was how well Henry got on with little James. At their first encounter, the boy eyed the stranger warily, clinging to his mum’s hand. But Henry had a trick up his sleeve! He crouched down to James’s height and asked what cartoons he enjoyed. Before long they were building Lego towers, and James was proudly showing off his treasured toys.
Before long, Henry was a regular at Charlotte’s parents’ place, where James lived. He’d take the boy to the park, teach him to pedal a bike, read him stories at bedtime. And one time, when Charlotte walked in on them sketching together, Henry said calmly: “I’d like to be a proper dad to him. If you’ll let me, I’m prepared to adopt James.”
Emily was chuffed to bits for her mate. She noticed Charlotte changing for the better: a twinkle in her eyes, the constant worry fading from her face, her smile turning from strained to the real McCoy. But today Emily had made a right gaffe accidentally prodding an old sore spot by bringing up James in the chat. Now she could only hope Charlotte wasn’t too put out and wouldn’t brood.
Yet Charlotte seemed oddly composed.
“I’ve grown up a bit,” she said with a small smile, neatly spreading the dress on the bed. “And I know full well that my feelings for James belong in the past. Sometimes I even regret giving my son the same name. I was daft, wouldn’t listen to a soul… How on earth did you lot put up with me?”
Emily lightly touched her hand:
“Are you thinking of bringing little James to live with you instead of your parents?”
“Yes,” Charlotte answered, turning serious in an instant. “Henry’s particularly keen. He even mentioned changing the lad’s name. Reckons it’ll make things simpler for me. Either way, we’ll have to sort out the birth certificate once the adoption’s sorted.”
She hesitated, watching raindrops slide down the windowpane.
“You know, I used to worry that little James would keep reminding me of what happened. But now I see I had it wrong. He’s my boy, and he deserves a proper childhood with two parents who adore him! Grandparents are lovely, no doubt, but they can’t take the place of mum and dad! And Henry gets that. He truly wants to step up as a father! If you could see how fond he’s grown of the little one!”
“Brilliant notion!” Emily brightened. “Why not ask your son what name he prefers? It’ll help him settle into the changes quicker.”
“Not sure about that. I haven’t decided yet. We’ve got time to mull it over.”
Truth be told, Charlotte was fibbing a tad. She still had feelings for James, and they hadn’t faded. But that affection hadn’t brought her any joy. Her parents were getting stricter about letting her see her son, since she nearly always ended up in tears at visits, which upset the child. Her friends had grown tired of her tales and were privately questioning her judgment. So it was high time to bid farewell to yesterday and focus on today.
Like at the wedding, for instance.
Only it was dreadfully hard!
Henry was a decent bloke, no question, but… he wasn’t James. Charlotte didn’t feel that deep connection with him; she was simply making use of his devotion to suit herself.
If only James would return… She’d give anything to be by his side…
“No wedding!” Charlotte announced with sparkling eyes, practically skipping. “We’re going our separate ways, like ships that pass in the night!”
Henry stared at Charlotte, baffled, struggling to take in what she’d said. The wedding was just a week off they’d sorted the menu, picked the flowers, sent out the invites. It had all felt so solid, so imminent… And now she was claiming there’d be no wedding?
“How do you mean ‘no wedding’?” he tried to grasp, wondering if his fiancée was serious or just having a daft joke. “Charlotte, what’s going on? Tell me straight.”
But Charlotte dismissed his queries with a wave. She darted about the room, snatching items from shelves and chucking them into an open suitcase. Her eyes gleamed, a smile dancing on her lips one that was unusual, so… heartfelt.
“James has come back!” she let slip, not meeting Henry’s gaze. Her voice carried such unfeigned joy that something inside him shattered. “He got here yesterday, we cleared the air… I could hardly believe it was true!”
She stopped at last, faced him, and her look held no hint of regret only joy and eagerness.
“I’m thankful for the past six months,” she went on, her tone softening slightly. “It was peaceful and easy with you… You’re a lovely person, Henry. But I never truly loved you. Now I’ve got a shot at real happiness, I can’t let it pass me by.”
Henry felt a chilly void expanding in his chest. James. Always James. The very person Charlotte talked about with such adoration that Henry felt like a spare part. He’d known she still had him on her mind, but he’d hoped time and their shared life would shift her feelings.
“Have you spoken to him already?” he managed at last, his voice tight, like he was short of breath. “What did he say? What excuse has he cooked up this time?”
“He didn’t bother with excuses,” Charlotte shot back rather curtly. “He just said he’d realised the mistake he made. That he’d been thinking of me the whole time!”
She turned away once more, carrying on with packing, as Henry stood rooted to the spot, sensing the world around him drain of colour.
“We chatted on the phone,” she added, sifting through drawer contents, making sure nothing vital was left behind. “His parents made him go and study abroad, and he couldn’t let me know he was leaving. Can you believe it? All that time he was only thinking of me, he just couldn’t get in touch. But now it’ll all be fine we’ll be together and have a long, happy life!”
The memory of that phone call with James floated up in Charlotte’s mind their first talk after ages apart. James’s voice had been excited, a bit shaky:
“Charlotte, I know this looks awful. But listen my parents gave me an ultimatum. Either study in New York or they cut me off. I tried to fight it, really I did… But they froze all my cards, blocked my accounts. I didn’t even have my own phone!”
“Why didn’t you call me at least once?” Charlotte’s voice wobbled, but she fought to hide her hurt.
“What could I say? That I was too weak to stand up to my parents?”
Listening to his jumbled explanations back then, Charlotte had felt a warmth spread through her. All the grudges, all the bitterness of recent months seemed to melt away in his voice. She realised she’d been waiting for that call all along every single day, every hour.
“Things will be different now,” James had said. “I’ve quit the course, I’m back. And I’m not leaving again.”
Those words rang in her head as she stood before Henry now.
She paused briefly, scanned the room quickly as though checking she’d packed everything. Only then did she spot how pale Henry looked. His face had gone almost chalky, his stare fixed on nothing in particular, as if peering right through her.
“Don’t fret,” Charlotte added, a touch gentler but with no uncertainty. “I’ve already let everyone know the wedding’s off. Explained it all, asked them not to hassle you. You’ll have plenty of people feeling sorry for you, but you’re tough, you’ll cope.”
She approached the suitcase, hauled it closer and tweaked the handle, as if that were the pressing matter. Then she met Henry’s eyes again, with no regret or waver.
“And please, don’t phone me, don’t send pointless texts or leave voicemails,” she said firmly, almost as an order. “My mind’s made up, and nothing will change it!”
She grabbed the suitcase, teetered a bit under its weight, but straightened at once and made for the door, seeming scared that any delay might weaken her will.
Henry lingered in the centre of the room, feeling his insides tighten with pain and confusion. He drew a deep breath, striving to steady himself. He longed to yell, to demand answers, but he held back didn’t want to seem feeble or frantic. The man balled his fists, then gradually released them, aiming for a calm, everyday tone:
“Aren’t you rushing things a bit?” he said, eyeing Charlotte closely.
She halted at the door, suitcase handle in hand, but didn’t turn. Her shoulders were stiff, fingers clamped around the leather grip.
“What if he doesn’t want to pick up where you left off?” Henry went on, moving nearer. “Or won’t own up to having a son? Or perhaps he’s already popped the question to someone else?”
Charlotte whipped around. Her face burned with excitement and annoyance. She advanced a few paces towards Henry, as though determined to prove a point, to make him see.
“He asked me to come for a proper discussion!” she burst out. “That’s plenty! And stop trying to paint him in a bad light James isn’t that sort!”
Her voice caught on the final words, but she collected herself immediately, stood tall and tugged the suitcase to the door once more.
“You might lend a hand,” she grumbled under her breath, heaving the bulky case with effort.
Henry stepped forward out of habit, as if he might actually assist, but checked himself. Why help someone who’d crushed his feelings? He could see plain as day that she was already mentally miles away, with James. Her eyes shone with certainty, almost a high: any second now her new life would kick off, brimming with joy and love. She was no doubt picturing James greeting her with a grin, assuring her all would be well, that they’d be together at last.
But reality had other ideas. James, who’d invited her for that “serious talk”, had no plans to propose or vow undying love. He merely wanted to clear the air, shut the old book so he could start fresh but without Charlotte in it. Especially as he was already spoken for.
And Charlotte, lost in her fantasies, failed to see what was staring her in the face. She’d waited so long for this that she was willing to swallow any story, just to avoid another letdown.
Struggling to drag the suitcase to the door, she paused a moment, resting her palm on the handle as if she meant to say something. But she thought better of it, flung the door open and marched out, not glancing back.
Henry stayed put in the middle of the room, gazing at the shut door. A faint trace of her perfume hung in the air, and her parting words echoed: “James isn’t that sort!”
The man eased himself into a chair, weariness settling over him like a heavy blanket. It had all unfolded too fast, too finally. Now he’d have to figure out how to carry on without Charlotte, without future plans, without rose-tinted glasses…
James answered the door, puzzled by visitors so early. There on the doorstep was Charlotte with two suitcases, her face lit up with delight, eyes alight with expectation. He froze, words failing him. The only thought in his head was: “How could she have got it so wrong?”
He’d thought it was all ancient history. When Charlotte took up with Henry, James had breathed easy at last. Now he could return to his hometown without worry, settle down with his wife, safe from unexpected calls, tears or blame. He’d even silently thanked Charlotte for finding someone else it had neatly tied up all the loose ends.
True, he’d rung her and tried to get across that things were different, even suggested a neutral spot to meet, but that was just to be polite!
And here she was at his door with luggage, clearly hoping for more than a chinwag. James took an instinctive step back, gathering his wits.
“James!” Charlotte cried the moment she saw him. “I’ve sorted it all out. I’m here, and we’ll be together at last!”
Her voice was so sure, as though it was the only possible outcome. She moved forward, but James raised his hand without thinking, halting her.
“Charlotte, hold on…” he started, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. “You might not have the full picture.”
She frowned, her smile fading away.
“What are you on about? We agreed to meet and talk it through!”
James sighed deeply, knowing there was no dodging it.
“I’m married, Charlotte. For two years now. My wife and I are really happy.”
Charlotte went rigid, her eyes growing wide with shock. She stood silent for a few seconds, as if the words hadn’t sunk in. Then her expression twisted panic, hurt and outrage all mixed in her look.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered, head shaking. “That can’t be true… You called, said everything was different!”
“I called to say a proper goodbye,” he answered softly. “I wanted to explain that time had moved on, that we each have our own lives now. But you seem to have taken it the wrong way.”
Charlotte backed away, her hands shaking. She balled her fists, trying to stay in control, but feelings flooded her.
“You… you lied to me the entire time!” she yelled, voice quivering with fury. “How could you? I gave up everything for you!”
James felt annoyance bubbling up. He hadn’t wanted a row, hadn’t wanted to defend himself, but Charlotte wasn’t about to leave without a showdown.
“I never promised you a thing,” he said steadily. “You made up your mind we were getting back together. I just didn’t want to hurt you, so I was careful with my words. But now it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
Charlotte let out a cry, seized one suitcase and hurled it to the floor. Stuff spilled across the hallway, but she paid it no mind. She ranted, blamed, demanded answers, her voice rising higher and higher.
James had no choice but to firmly but politely show her out to the stairwell. He shut the door, hoping that would be that. But Charlotte kept on banging on the door, shouting his name. Neighbours started poking their heads out, some tutting in annoyance, others grumbling loudly.
An hour later, with Charlotte’s shouts growing fiercer and the neighbours threatening to call the police in earnest, she finally left. Before going, she turned, glared at James’s door and screamed through her tears:
“I’ll be back! You’ll be sorry!”
James closed his eyes, exhaustion crashing over him. He knew this wasn’t over. Charlotte was determined, and once she got an idea, she wouldn’t let it go easily.
He headed to the living room, dropped onto the sofa and pondered. He needed to act fast. Staying here was out of the question Charlotte might return, kick up a fuss, bother the neighbours. James pulled out his phone and loaded up the property listings.
“Time to sell the flat and look for another,” he decided. “Somewhere on the other side of town”…
Charlotte trudged along the street, blind to everything around. Tears clouded her vision, thoughts tumbled in her head, her heart felt weighed down and hollow. She still couldn’t quite grasp what had unfolded. In her mind’s eye, James was meant to welcome her with open arms, tell her he’d been waiting for this, that they’d be together forever. But real life had turned out harsh and unforgiving.
She roamed the city for ages, trying to muster her strength. Her feet took her to Henry’s place. Charlotte paused at the entrance, dabbed at her tears, smoothed her hair she wanted to appear somewhat composed. Drawing a deep breath, she climbed to the right floor and tentatively rang the bell.
Henry took his time opening up. When he did appear, his face was cool and withdrawn. He regarded Charlotte in silence, with no move to let her in.
“Henry, please,” she began, her voice shaky. “I know what a mess I’ve made. I get how foolish and unkind it was. But I… I want to make it right.”
She stopped, searching for the right words. Fresh tears sparkled in her eyes.
“I won’t ever bring up James again,” she went on, meeting his gaze directly. “I promise. It was all a blunder. I’ve seen that only with you can I be happy. Please, give me another chance.”
Her tone was earnest, nearly frantic. She meant every word right then it felt like if Henry forgave her, it would all come good.
Henry slowly shook his head. No way was he falling for that again!
“Charlotte,” he said quietly, “you’ve already chosen. Just hours ago you were here with your cases, telling me you were off to him. You were convinced.”
“I was mistaken then!” she cut in. “I didn’t know what I was doing! I was all worked up! I…”
Henry let out a sigh, raked a hand through his hair. It was tough, but he knew he couldn’t let emotions sway him once more.
“You didn’t just walk away from me you walked to him. You picked, and I went along with it. Now that it’s gone pear-shaped, you want to come crawling back?”
“Yes!” Charlotte cried. “Because I love you. Only you.”
He paused a moment, then gave a wry smile and said firmly:
“I can’t trust what you’re saying anymore. Goodbye.”
Charlotte felt something snap inside. Henry watched her steadily, without anger, but his eyes showed no uncertainty. He truly didn’t believe her.
“Please…” she whispered, but her voice faltered and died.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said. “But it’s for the best for both of us.”
He closed the door, leaving Charlotte alone in the hallway. She stood there a bit longer, then gradually sank down onto a step, buried her face in her hands and wept. These tears weren’t from anger or spite they came from the painful truth that she’d lost James and Henry both, and had no idea how to carry on from here.Emily stepped into the room and paused on the threshold. There stood Charlotte in her wedding dress and she looked absolutely radiant. The gown hugged her figure just right, and her eyes held a quiet, almost floating happiness. Emily couldn’t help but burst out with enthusiasm:
“Goodness, you look like you’re glowing from the inside out!” she exclaimed, her gaze fixed on her friend. “I’m over the moon for you! At last, you’ve turned over a new leaf and let your heart open to fresh possibilities, leaving James in the dust! You’re a proper star!”
Charlotte gave a tiny wince, and her smile vanished like a puff of smoke. She quickly busied herself with the dress’s fastenings, avoiding Emily’s eyes.
“I’d better take this off,” she murmured, deftly undoing the tiny hooks along the side. “The big day is only two weeks away. If anything goes wrong with the dress, we won’t find another one like it in a hurry.”
Emily bit her lip. She knew right away she’d put her foot in it. Why on earth had she mentioned James? Now that Charlotte had finally met a decent chap, dredging up the past was the last thing needed! James hadn’t been worth a single one of Charlotte’s tears not after the mess he’d made of things!
Once, Charlotte had honestly believed he was her soulmate, the one and only. She thought their romance was the real deal, meant to last! But bit by bit, it all started crumbling. First he pulled away, making excuses not to see her, then he started openly picking apart her decisions, her mates, her ambitions. He talked her into ditching a great work project, coaxed her out of an internship overseas, and then pushed her to switch careers altogether.
Charlotte’s family couldn’t figure out what was going on with her. They watched her change, losing her spark, but were powerless to help. Any attempt at a heart-to-heart turned into rows James had persuaded Charlotte that her folks just didn’t approve of him and were out to wreck their “ideal love”. The tension built up, until Charlotte barely spoke to her parents at all.
Then one day he was gone. Just left without a word, no explanation, not even a note to say ta-ta. All that was left was a deep wound in her heart and a child, whom Charlotte chose to keep come what may.
Now, as she watched her friend rush to remove the wedding dress, Emily felt a stab of guilt. She’d only wanted to share in Charlotte’s joy, to see her happy. She certainly hadn’t meant to poke at old scars…
Little James had just turned four. He was a bundle of energy and curiosity, forever asking questions about the world. One minute he’d be wondering why the sky’s blue, the next where clouds disappear to, then he’d be thrilled spotting creepy-crawlies on a stroll. The staff at the nursery often praised his smarts: James picked up new things fast, could memorise poems in a jiffy, and loved listening to lengthy bedtime tales.
He spent nearly all his time at his grandparents’ Charlotte’s mum and dad. They’d taken to looking after their grandson with gusto and did their best to nurture him. They were the ones who picked the nursery that taught English, the ones who got him into swimming lessons, the ones who signed him up for dance classes. Charlotte popped in to see her son a few times a week, but never stayed more than an hour.
The cause was straightforward and sore. Little James was the spitting image of his dad. Same dark curly locks, same eye shape, same cheeky little grin. Every time Charlotte looked at her boy, it felt like stepping back in time to when she’d imagined they’d be a happy family. She adored him to bits, beamed at his accomplishments, delighted in every smile. Yet with the love came that sharp, pinching pain. The moment she lifted him up or met his gaze, tears would spring to her eyes. She’d turn away, pretend to fix his clothes or hunt for something in her bag, then have a quiet weep once he was out of sight.
One evening, Charlotte stopped by her parents’ to collect James. The lad was on the rug, piecing together a jigsaw, brow furrowed in focus. Spotting his mum, he leapt up with a grin and dashed over.
“Mum, look!” he tugged her towards the puzzle. “I’m nearly done. There’s a house and a tree, and over here… over here goes the dog!”
Charlotte knelt beside him, forcing a smile.
“Lovely,” she said, ruffling his hair. “Well done, you’re so careful with it all.”
James paused, then lifted his eyes to her:
“Mum, where’s my dad? All the other kids at nursery have dads, except me…”
Charlotte went still. Her insides knotted up, but she kept her voice steady:
“I don’t know, love. Dad’s a long way away just now. But he thinks of you, truly.”
“Why doesn’t he ring?” James scowled, like he was tackling a tricky riddle. “I could tell him I’ve learned to tie my own laces!”
“He’s… he’s just terribly busy,” Charlotte mumbled, feeling a lump form in her throat. “But I’m certain he’s proud of you.”
The boy pondered for a moment, then nodded as though it made sense, and turned back to the puzzle.
“Alright. I’ll finish this house then, and Dad can see what a clever clogs I am!”
Charlotte stayed next to him, observing, and quietly gulped back her tears. She wanted to add something comforting, but the words stuck. So instead she reached out and stroked his hair once more, inhaling the smell of kiddie shampoo and clinging to this moment her son right there, content and trusting, even with all the questions she couldn’t answer.
Even so, Charlotte kept mulling over James. In her heart of hearts she still made excuses for him. Perhaps something awful had befallen him? Maybe he’d landed in hot water and couldn’t get word to her? These notions helped her stay afloat, kept her from sinking into despair.
Her nearest and dearest had tried more than once to have a straight talk. Mum would gently suggest it wasn’t healthy to dwell on the past, that she should concentrate on her son and moving forward. Friends were blunt: “He walked out on you. Time to face facts and get on with it!” But Charlotte wouldn’t hear a word of it. She’d argue passionately, recount how happy they’d been, bring up the promises he’d made. Rows often concluded with her clamming up, and the others, with a sigh, letting it drop.
Meanwhile, Charlotte wasn’t twiddling her thumbs. Now and then she’d check social media, ring up old haunts where he might turn up, even put out posts begging for help tracking him down. All for nothing! Yet she couldn’t or wouldn’t accept that James had simply chosen to leave and had no plans to return.
Then, after five long years, along came a fellow who managed to thaw Charlotte’s heart. It was nearly by chance: they bumped into each other at a birthday bash for a shared friend. Henry caught her eye straight away. The chap was… dependable, there was no other word for it. He was the genuine article! Honest, kind, attentive… Simply the best!
Right from the start, Charlotte felt she could be herself around him. Henry didn’t insist on her putting on a brave face or smiling non-stop. If she was knackered, he’d just suggest heading home. If she fancied some peace and quiet, he didn’t push her to chat. Henry was the sort of man she’d apparently been seeking: steady, even-tempered and, above all, truly smitten.
His affection showed in the small stuff: knowing beforehand which coffee she fancied, recalling her workmates’ names and asking after them, casually handling the everyday bits and bobs. He seemed ready to carry her on a silver platter, and Charlotte, if we’re being frank, was making the most of it.
What really got to her was how well Henry got on with little James. At their first encounter, the boy eyed the stranger warily, clinging to his mum’s hand. But Henry had a trick up his sleeve! He crouched down to James’s height and asked what cartoons he enjoyed. Before long they were building Lego towers, and James was proudly showing off his treasured toys.
Before long, Henry was a regular at Charlotte’s parents’ place, where James lived. He’d take the boy to the park, teach him to pedal a bike, read him stories at bedtime. And one time, when Charlotte walked in on them sketching together, Henry said calmly: “I’d like to be a proper dad to him. If you’ll let me, I’m prepared to adopt James.”
Emily was chuffed to bits for her mate. She noticed Charlotte changing for the better: a twinkle in her eyes, the constant worry fading from her face, her smile turning from strained to the real McCoy. But today Emily had made a right gaffe accidentally prodding an old sore spot by bringing up James in the chat. Now she could only hope Charlotte wasn’t too put out and wouldn’t brood.
Yet Charlotte seemed oddly composed.
“I’ve grown up a bit,” she said with a small smile, neatly spreading the dress on the bed. “And I know full well that my feelings for James belong in the past. Sometimes I even regret giving my son the same name. I was daft, wouldn’t listen to a soul… How on earth did you lot put up with me?”
Emily lightly touched her hand:
“Are you thinking of bringing little James to live with you instead of your parents?”
“Yes,” Charlotte answered, turning serious in an instant. “Henry’s particularly keen. He even mentioned changing the lad’s name. Reckons it’ll make things simpler for me. Either way, we’ll have to sort out the birth certificate once the adoption’s sorted.”
She hesitated, watching raindrops slide down the windowpane.
“You know, I used to worry that little James would keep reminding me of what happened. But now I see I had it wrong. He’s my boy, and he deserves a proper childhood with two parents who adore him! Grandparents are lovely, no doubt, but they can’t take the place of mum and dad! And Henry gets that. He truly wants to step up as a father! If you could see how fond he’s grown of the little one!”
“Brilliant notion!” Emily brightened. “Why not ask your son what name he prefers? It’ll help him settle into the changes quicker.”
“Not sure about that. I haven’t decided yet. We’ve got time to mull it over.”
Truth be told, Charlotte was fibbing a tad. She still had feelings for James, and they hadn’t faded. But that affection hadn’t brought her any joy. Her parents were getting stricter about letting her see her son, since she nearly always ended up in tears at visits, which upset the child. Her friends had grown tired of her tales and were privately questioning her judgment. So it was high time to bid farewell to yesterday and focus on today.
Like at the wedding, for instance.
Only it was dreadfully hard!
Henry was a decent bloke, no question, but… he wasn’t James. Charlotte didn’t feel that deep connection with him; she was simply making use of his devotion to suit herself.
If only James would return… She’d give anything to be by his side…
“No wedding!” Charlotte announced with sparkling eyes, practically skipping. “We’re going our separate ways, like ships that pass in the night!”
Henry stared at Charlotte, baffled, struggling to take in what she’d said. The wedding was just a week off they’d sorted the menu, picked the flowers, sent out the invites. It had all felt so solid, so imminent… And now she was claiming there’d be no wedding?
“How do you mean ‘no wedding’?” he tried to grasp, wondering if his fiancée was serious or just having a daft joke. “Charlotte, what’s going on? Tell me straight.”
But Charlotte dismissed his queries with a wave. She darted about the room, snatching items from shelves and chucking them into an open suitcase. Her eyes gleamed, a smile dancing on her lips one that was unusual, so… heartfelt.
“James has come back!” she let slip, not meeting Henry’s gaze. Her voice carried such unfeigned joy that something inside him shattered. “He got here yesterday, we cleared the air… I could hardly believe it was true!”
She stopped at last, faced him, and her look held no hint of regret only joy and eagerness.
“I’m thankful for the past six months,” she went on, her tone softening slightly. “It was peaceful and easy with you… You’re a lovely person, Henry. But I never truly loved you. Now I’ve got a shot at real happiness, I can’t let it pass me by.”
Henry felt a chilly void expanding in his chest. James. Always James. The very person Charlotte talked about with such adoration that Henry felt like a spare part. He’d known she still had him on her mind, but he’d hoped time and their shared life would shift her feelings.
“Have you spoken to him already?” he managed at last, his voice tight, like he was short of breath. “What did he say? What excuse has he cooked up this time?”
“He didn’t bother with excuses,” Charlotte shot back rather curtly. “He just said he’d realised the mistake he made. That he’d been thinking of me the whole time!”
She turned away once more, carrying on with packing, as Henry stood rooted to the spot, sensing the world around him drain of colour.
“We chatted on the phone,” she added, sifting through drawer contents, making sure nothing vital was left behind. “His parents made him go and study abroad, and he couldn’t let me know he was leaving. Can you believe it? All that time he was only thinking of me, he just couldn’t get in touch. But now it’ll all be fine we’ll be together and have a long, happy life!”
The memory of that phone call with James floated up in Charlotte’s mind their first talk after ages apart. James’s voice had been excited, a bit shaky:
“Charlotte, I know this looks awful. But listen my parents gave me an ultimatum. Either study in New York or they cut me off. I tried to fight it, really I did… But they froze all my cards, blocked my accounts. I didn’t even have my own phone!”
“Why didn’t you call me at least once?” Charlotte’s voice wobbled, but she fought to hide her hurt.
“What could I say? That I was too weak to stand up to my parents?”
Listening to his jumbled explanations back then, Charlotte had felt a warmth spread through her. All the grudges, all the bitterness of recent months seemed to melt away in his voice. She realised she’d been waiting for that call all along every single day, every hour.
“Things will be different now,” James had said. “I’ve quit the course, I’m back. And I’m not leaving again.”
Those words rang in her head as she stood before Henry now.
She paused briefly, scanned the room quickly as though checking she’d packed everything. Only then did she spot how pale Henry looked. His face had gone almost chalky, his stare fixed on nothing in particular, as if peering right through her.
“Don’t fret,” Charlotte added, a touch gentler but with no uncertainty. “I’ve already let everyone know the wedding’s off. Explained it all, asked them not to hassle you. You’ll have plenty of people feeling sorry for you, but you’re tough, you’ll cope.”
She approached the suitcase, hauled it closer and tweaked the handle, as if that were the pressing matter. Then she met Henry’s eyes again, with no regret or waver.
“And please, don’t phone me, don’t send pointless texts or leave voicemails,” she said firmly, almost as an order. “My mind’s made up, and nothing will change it!”
She grabbed the suitcase, teetered a bit under its weight, but straightened at once and made for the door, seeming scared that any delay might weaken her will.
Henry lingered in the centre of the room, feeling his insides tighten with pain and confusion. He drew a deep breath, striving to steady himself. He longed to yell, to demand answers, but he held back didn’t want to seem feeble or frantic. The man balled his fists, then gradually released them, aiming for a calm, everyday tone:
“Aren’t you rushing things a bit?” he said, eyeing Charlotte closely.
She halted at the door, suitcase handle in hand, but didn’t turn. Her shoulders were stiff, fingers clamped around the leather grip.
“What if he doesn’t want to pick up where you left off?” Henry went on, moving nearer. “Or won’t own up to having a son? Or perhaps he’s already popped the question to someone else?”
Charlotte whipped around. Her face burned with excitement and annoyance. She advanced a few paces towards Henry, as though determined to prove a point, to make him see.
“He asked me to come for a proper discussion!” she burst out. “That’s plenty! And stop trying to paint him in a bad light James isn’t that sort!”
Her voice caught on the final words, but she collected herself immediately, stood tall and tugged the suitcase to the door once more.
“You might lend a hand,” she grumbled under her breath, heaving the bulky case with effort.
Henry stepped forward out of habit, as if he might actually assist, but checked himself. Why help someone who’d crushed his feelings? He could see plain as day that she was already mentally miles away, with James. Her eyes shone with certainty, almost a high: any second now her new life would kick off, brimming with joy and love. She was no doubt picturing James greeting her with a grin, assuring her all would be well, that they’d be together at last.
But reality had other ideas. James, who’d invited her for that “serious talk”, had no plans to propose or vow undying love. He merely wanted to clear the air, shut the old book so he could start fresh but without Charlotte in it. Especially as he was already spoken for.
And Charlotte, lost in her fantasies, failed to see what was staring her in the face. She’d waited so long for this that she was willing to swallow any story, just to avoid another letdown.
Struggling to drag the suitcase to the door, she paused a moment, resting her palm on the handle as if she meant to say something. But she thought better of it, flung the door open and marched out, not glancing back.
Henry stayed put in the middle of the room, gazing at the shut door. A faint trace of her perfume hung in the air, and her parting words echoed: “James isn’t that sort!”
The man eased himself into a chair, weariness settling over him like a heavy blanket. It had all unfolded too fast, too finally. Now he’d have to figure out how to carry on without Charlotte, without future plans, without rose-tinted glasses…
James answered the door, puzzled by visitors so early. There on the doorstep was Charlotte with two suitcases, her face lit up with delight, eyes alight with expectation. He froze, words failing him. The only thought in his head was: “How could she have got it so wrong?”
He’d thought it was all ancient history. When Charlotte took up with Henry, James had breathed easy at last. Now he could return to his hometown without worry, settle down with his wife, safe from unexpected calls, tears or blame. He’d even silently thanked Charlotte for finding someone else it had neatly tied up all the loose ends.
True, he’d rung her and tried to get across that things were different, even suggested a neutral spot to meet, but that was just to be polite!
And here she was at his door with luggage, clearly hoping for more than a chinwag. James took an instinctive step back, gathering his wits.
“James!” Charlotte cried the moment she saw him. “I’ve sorted it all out. I’m here, and we’ll be together at last!”
Her voice was so sure, as though it was the only possible outcome. She moved forward, but James raised his hand without thinking, halting her.
“Charlotte, hold on…” he started, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. “You might not have the full picture.”
She frowned, her smile fading away.
“What are you on about? We agreed to meet and talk it through!”
James sighed deeply, knowing there was no dodging it.
“I’m married, Charlotte. For two years now. My wife and I are really happy.”
Charlotte went rigid, her eyes growing wide with shock. She stood silent for a few seconds, as if the words hadn’t sunk in. Then her expression twisted panic, hurt and outrage all mixed in her look.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered, head shaking. “That can’t be true… You called, said everything was different!”
“I called to say a proper goodbye,” he answered softly. “I wanted to explain that time had moved on, that we each have our own lives now. But you seem to have taken it the wrong way.”
Charlotte backed away, her hands shaking. She balled her fists, trying to stay in control, but feelings flooded her.
“You… you lied to me the entire time!” she yelled, voice quivering with fury. “How could you? I gave up everything for you!”
James felt annoyance bubbling up. He hadn’t wanted a row, hadn’t wanted to defend himself, but Charlotte wasn’t about to leave without a showdown.
“I never promised you a thing,” he said steadily. “You made up your mind we were getting back together. I just didn’t want to hurt you, so I was careful with my words. But now it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
Charlotte let out a cry, seized one suitcase and hurled it to the floor. Stuff spilled across the hallway, but she paid it no mind. She ranted, blamed, demanded answers, her voice rising higher and higher.
James had no choice but to firmly but politely show her out to the stairwell. He shut the door, hoping that would be that. But Charlotte kept on banging on the door, shouting his name. Neighbours started poking their heads out, some tutting in annoyance, others grumbling loudly.
An hour later, with Charlotte’s shouts growing fiercer and the neighbours threatening to call the police in earnest, she finally left. Before going, she turned, glared at James’s door and screamed through her tears:
“I’ll be back! You’ll be sorry!”
James closed his eyes, exhaustion crashing over him. He knew this wasn’t over. Charlotte was determined, and once she got an idea, she wouldn’t let it go easily.
He headed to the living room, dropped onto the sofa and pondered. He needed to act fast. Staying here was out of the question Charlotte might return, kick up a fuss, bother the neighbours. James pulled out his phone and loaded up the property listings.
“Time to sell the flat and look for another,” he decided. “Somewhere on the other side of town”…
Charlotte trudged along the street, blind to everything around. Tears clouded her vision, thoughts tumbled in her head, her heart felt weighed down and hollow. She still couldn’t quite grasp what had unfolded. In her mind’s eye, James was meant to welcome her with open arms, tell her he’d been waiting for this, that they’d be together forever. But real life had turned out harsh and unforgiving.
She roamed the city for ages, trying to muster her strength. Her feet took her to Henry’s place. Charlotte paused at the entrance, dabbed at her tears, smoothed her hair she wanted to appear somewhat composed. Drawing a deep breath, she climbed to the right floor and tentatively rang the bell.
Henry took his time opening up. When he did appear, his face was cool and withdrawn. He regarded Charlotte in silence, with no move to let her in.
“Henry, please,” she began, her voice shaky. “I know what a mess I’ve made. I get how foolish and unkind it was. But I… I want to make it right.”
She stopped, searching for the right words. Fresh tears sparkled in her eyes.
“I won’t ever bring up James again,” she went on, meeting his gaze directly. “I promise. It was all a blunder. I’ve seen that only with you can I be happy. Please, give me another chance.”
Her tone was earnest, nearly frantic. She meant every word right then it felt like if Henry forgave her, it would all come good.
Henry slowly shook his head. No way was he falling for that again!
“Charlotte,” he said quietly, “you’ve already chosen. Just hours ago you were here with your cases, telling me you were off to him. You were convinced.”
“I was mistaken then!” she cut in. “I didn’t know what I was doing! I was all worked up! I…”
Henry let out a sigh, raked a hand through his hair. It was tough, but he knew he couldn’t let emotions sway him once more.
“You didn’t just walk away from me you walked to him. You picked, and I went along with it. Now that it’s gone pear-shaped, you want to come crawling back?”
“Yes!” Charlotte cried. “Because I love you. Only you.”
He paused a moment, then gave a wry smile and said firmly:
“I can’t trust what you’re saying anymore. Goodbye.”
Charlotte felt something snap inside. Henry watched her steadily, without anger, but his eyes showed no uncertainty. He truly didn’t believe her.
“Please…” she whispered, but her voice faltered and died.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said. “But it’s for the best for both of us.”
He closed the door, leaving Charlotte alone in the hallway. She stood there a bit longer, then gradually sank down onto a step, buried her face in her hands and wept. These tears weren’t from anger or spite they came from the painful truth that she’d lost James and Henry both, and had no idea how to carry on from here.