Hey, listen to thisits a proper love story, bittersweet and all.
So, Tom texted Emily: *”Hey, what are you up to? Fancy meeting at our café?”* She agreed, and he pocketed his phone, grinning like a kid at Christmas.
Theyd known each other since secondary school. Emilytall, gorgeous, the kind of girl every bloke fanciedwas his dream. Tom? Average bloke, not exactly Prince Charming, but he adored her. He followed her around like a lost puppy, bringing her little gifts, laughing at her jokes. She was kind, sure, but never saw him *that* way. Meanwhile, she dated one lad after another, and Tom? Hed pretend not to care, go out with other girls, but his heart never budged.
At the café, she slid into the seat across from him. *”Earth to Tom!”* she teased when he didnt reply right away. He could barely look at her without his chest aching. Some bloke at the next table kept staring, and Tom had to stop himself from snapping, *”Eyes off, mate.”*
*”Fetch us a coffee?”* Emily said, mischief in her eyes.
He jumped up, came back with two lattes and her favourite scone. Stirred his coffee, quiet.
*”You alright?”* she asked, suddenly serious.
*”Yeah. Just wanted to see you.”* He slid a fridge magnet across the tablea tiny Eiffel Tower.
Theyd been meeting here for years. Their spot. Ten years back, hed confessed his feelings. Shed said, *”Youre lovely, but lets just be friends.”* Hed been gutted, but what could he do? If he pushed, shed vanish. So he played the long game.
He tried moving on. Got married, even. Posted honeymoon pics in the Maldives, waiting for her reaction. When she finally liked them*”You two look great!”*it stung. *That couldve been us*, he thought bitterly.
Years passed. He divorced. She married. Then *she* divorced. Life kept throwing them together. One day, after another messy split (his wife had found old messages and lost it), Emily called. Needed to talk.
At the café, she looked tired. *”My husband cheated,”* she admitted, eyes wet.
Toms fists clenched. *”Name the time and place, Ill sort him.”*
She laughed weakly, then asked about *his* life.
*”Messed it up, didnt I?”* he sighed. *”Still think about you. Always have.”*
Emily froze. *”Tom thats mad. Its been *years*.”*
*”Not for me,”* he whispered.
She reached for his hand. *”Im sorry. I never realised”*
He walked out then, drove for hours, fuming. *Why her?* She wasnt even that nice, really. But loves daft like that.
They bumped into each other months later outside Tesco. She had her little boy with her.
*”Whereve you been?”* she asked, like no time had passed.
*”Nowhere,”* he said. *”Still here.”*
He offered to walk them to her car. When she drove off, he followedhonking, flashing his lights like a teenager. She laughed, flashed hers back.
His wife left him soon after. *”Go be with her, then!”* shed screamed.
Thenmiracle of miraclesEmily changed her mind. *”What if we tried?”*
He nearly choked. *All these years, and now?*
They married quietly. A registry office, then their usual café. Honeymoon in the CanariesEmily had always wanted to see the ocean. At night, with her son asleep, theyd lie there, listening to the waves.
*”Happy?”* he asked.
*”Yeah,”* she murmured. *”Wasted so much time, though.”*
Tom kissed her head. *”Weve got forever to make up for it. The years slipped by, gentle and full of quiet mornings and shared silences. They never had more children, but they raised her son as their own, filling the house with laughter and late-night talks. When grey touched their temples, they still held hands at the café, ordering two lattes and one sconehalf eaten, just like always. And sometimes, when the light hit her just right, Tom would catch his breath, remembering how long hed waited, and how worth it shed been.
