Emily has fallen in love with her friends husband, and her life has become a disaster. Thoughts of him haunt her every minute of every day. Why did she ever agree to visit? A few years ago, Emily had decided their friendship was pointless and gradually stopped staying in touch. But then, bumping into Sarah by chance at an art exhibition, they got chatting, and out of sheer curiosity, Emily accepted the invitation to Sarahs home and just like that, shes lost.
Night and day, his face fills her mind. She cant help but wonder how Sarah unremarkable, no stand-out skills or talents managed to end up with someone like him, a man she now envies deeply. Sarah, the girl who didnt even go to university, who worked as a shop assistant at a shoe boutique. And her husband? A successful solicitor, owner of a three-storey house, and a collection of cars: a Range Rover for the country, a coupe for the city, a long saloon for family outings, and a bright little red Audi for the wife. Emily cannot get over it. How does Sarah fit in with someone like that? Sarah, of all people. Whats wrong with Emily? Why does everyone else seem to find someone decent while she keeps running into nothing but oddballs? She is genuinely happy for Sarah, but vows never to accept another invitationotherwise, she might end up betraying her, and herself.
Emily remembers that, as a child, she once took a boy from Sarah. Sarah had come back from Guides camp having befriended Max a charming, well-spoken boy from another part of town. He visited on weekends, telling tales with all the panache of a young storyteller. Emily had liked Max at once, but never let it show. It wasnt her place; he was Sarahs, or so she told herself. But was that really true? The three of them started going to the cinema, to cafes, wandering around the park and celebrating school friends birthdays together. It was a wonderful, unhurried time.
One day, Max turned up at Emilys with chocolates and flowers, and asked her out.
What about Sarah? Emily had asked, surprised. Shes my friend, this feels wrong.
Sarah and I are just friends. But I really like you, Max replied.
Emily relented, and started seeing him. Sarah sulked for a couple of months, but eventually came round.
Thank you for taking Max off my hands, she laughed. I was falling for him, but you showed me he isnt to be trusted.
Does that mean Im not to be trusted either? asked Emily.
Sarah burst out laughing and never raised the subject again. Max soon bored Emily, and when he became jealous over a silly peck on the cheek from a classmate, Emily showed him the door. That, though, felt like a different life.
Now, nearly thirty, Emily works as a bank clerk. It’s high time she settled down, but theres not a single possible candidate anywhere in sight. After school, she and Sarah saw each other less and less, and over the past few years, not at all. Suddenly, Sarah had invited her round not to her old flat in the next street, but to a country house with a maid, gardener, and security gates. Emily is practically in shock.
Its an incredible story: James, Sarahs husband, stepped in a puddle on his way to an important meeting, and dashed into the first decent shoe shop he could find. Sarah fitted him with a perfect pair of shoes. They fell for each other at once. Of course, no ones surprised that Sarah would fall for him, but him? Emily has always dreamed of a husband like that successful, calm, clever. Why do the princes always pick someone else? Emilys not foolish she has her own two-bedroom flat, a good salary, looks after herself. Why do good men never see her? Are they blind, or is there something wrong with her?
Today, Sarahs invited Emily again. Her husband is away on business, and theyll have the house to themselves. The invitation is tempting, but Emily fears her feelings. She visited only once and doesnt know what to do with the storm inside uncontrollable longing, and the desperate curiosity to know how Sarah pulled it off. She wavers perhaps there are other single friends in Jamess circle. That could be a silver lining.
They sit in the drawing room, surrounded by paintings of dragons, castles, and princesses, which fill the space with magical energy.
Whos the artist? Emily asks.
I am, Sarah replies.
Emily is as stunned as she was by the grandeur of the house.
I never knew you painted.
I remember in school you loved to draw, and you were really good. Surprised you chose economics.
My mum insisted. She thought art was a waste of time and picked university and career for me. Sometimes I feel like Im living out someone elses plan.
I started painting when Jamie asked me to stop working and spend more time at home.
Whos Jamie?
Oh, thats what I call James. I dont quite fit in with his social circles they bore me senseless. I just go when I absolutely have to. The paintings are my excuse to stay home.
Are there any single men in your group? Maybe you could introduce me.
Theres a friend, but Im not sure hes your type.
Why not?
Hes looking for someone not after a rich husband. Hes also got a flaw sometimes hell disappear for months on a bender.
We dont need to mention what Im looking for
Hes surrounded by women, but
But?
Hes in love with me. James teases him about it. Hes even said, If Sarah ever leaves you, Ill marry her myself.
Alright, then. Tell me, whats your secret? Why do all the good ones fall for you?
Theres no secret, honestly.
Then whats wrong with me? Why do I only attract weirdos?
You never know when or where youll find the right one.
Easy for you to say.
Want to hear a real story about love?
Go on.
There was a young man who would sometimes pop into the shop at closing time just to talk. He needed someone to confide in. He fell passionately in love with his best friends wife her family was all academics and intellectuals. Her grandfather had been a literature professor, her father a renowned linguist. My friend, though, grew up on a farm. Mum was a dairymaid, Dad just starting out with livestock. He spent his days walking the city, scribbling poetry no one ever read but himself. He was swept up by his feelings, but would never have risked offending his friend. So, he forced himself to bury his love.
Eventually, he read somewhere that love isnt as uncontrollable as people say. If you stop feeding it, stop obsessing, it withers or at least slows down
Did he manage to stop loving her? asked Emily, becoming anxious.
He focused on his studies, learned languages, found his true passion. Then, five years later, he found out theyd divorced. He wasted no time proposed on the spot, and she accepted.
Whats the point of this?
The point is, sometimes you just need to find something in life thats your own. When youve got purpose, love will find you when youre ready.
You think Im not ready? Did you enjoy working in the shop?
I did. Every day was different, always meeting new people. I felt a bit like a magician, getting it just right and making someone happy.
Were you good at it?
I was! Imagine how happy theyd be when I guessed exactly what they needed. I felt like a wizard. People would come from all over London. They knew I wouldnt sell them something unless it was perfect.
Did anyone ever bring things back?
No. If you truly listen, there are no returns. Come, let me show you the studio.
They climbed up into the attic a space made for creativity, with canvases, boards, easels, paints, and brushes everywhere. Emily shivered with excitement; it had been ages since she felt inspired. There really is something about Sarah she brings things to life.
Can I try painting?
Sarah fixed a large white sheet to an easel.
What paints?
Watercolour.
Emily lost herself in the painting and only came back to reality when she looked up to see her canvas covered with a vase of flowers just like the one she admired years ago in a little café. That day, shed even tried to persuade the owner to let her buy it. Now, she could enjoy her own creation.
Wow! You should definitely be painting, Sarah exclaimed. And look at you!
Sarah took a picture of Emily mid-creation. In the photo, a radiant, joyful woman looked back.
Youre beautiful when you paint. I couldnt help snapping a shot. Do you love working at the bank as much as this?
No.
Well, theres your answer, isnt it? When youre truly happy, people are drawn to you and your person will find you, too. Maybe thats the secret, Emily. Become happy in yourself, and when youre overflowing, share it. Thats how youll find love.Emily stood there in the attic, staring at her painted flowers, heart swelling with a strange, giddy hope. For the first time in monthsno, yearsher longing didnt ache quite so much; it simply breathed inside her, mixing with the vivid colors on her hands. Sarah was humming, arranging brushes, every movement a gentle invitation to belonging.
Do you mind if I come paint here sometimes? Emily asked tentatively, almost afraid to hope.
Sarah smiled with that uncomplicated affection that had once made them inseparable. You can come whenever you like. I could use the companyand the inspiration.
They stayed a while longer, talking quietly as dusk turned gold outside the window, lost in a world far from envy or regret. Driving home into the evening, Emily replayed Sarahs words. Maybe happiness wasnt some faraway lottery win, some man to appear and complete her life. Maybe it was claiming the parts of herself shed put aside: the girl who could lose whole afternoons in color and line, who had been waiting beneath the habits of adult life, patient and undimmed.
That night, Emily unpacked her old watercolor set and set up a corner of her flat as a tiny studio. There was no strategy; just a simple promise she made to herself: to paint, often, and see what happened. She texted Sarah a picture of her new setup, and laughter crackled back: Youre a wild woman now, Em. The worlds not ready.
A week later, in line for coffee with a splash of paint still on her cheek, Emily met a man with ink-stained fingers and a sketchbook under his arm. He grinned, asked about the color on her skin, and offered to show her his favorite art supply shop. Conversation fluttered between themeasy and unforcedas they strolled through the city, both slightly wild, both searching, both quietly radiant.
They werent anybodys idea of a fairytale couple: two imperfect people, a little messy, with dreams inked onto their hands. But as Emily laughed, genuinely, eye to eye, she realized Sarah had been right all along. Happiness wasnt something you chased; it was something you grew, one unexpected color at a time. And love, when it came, found you wholeand ready.
