My Personal Diary
Failure of Revenge
I walked slowly along the empty hallway of our London office building. The only sounds breaking the silence were the muffled clicks of my shoes and the distant rumble of the lift at the far end of the corridor. The wall clock showed ten to eight Id stayed two hours late, but somehow, it didnt feel like a burden. Underneath it all, I felt a rare, comforting sense of deep satisfaction: the project Id poured myself into for the past three months was finally finished.
My mind wandered back to those months of slog. What a chaotic journey it had been! The client was unique, to say the least. Today he wanted one kind of presentation, tomorrow a completely different one. He changed requirements so often that people in the department joked, If you hear his name, brace yourself! A few colleagues even developed nervous tics from the endless edits and abrupt demands. It had become an office in-jokethough the strain was very real.
But now it was all over. The contract was signed, the final report sent off, and before long, everyone on the team would be getting a generous bonus. The thought of it made me smilea small reward for surviving the storm.
Lydia, are you still here? Its really getting late!
I turned to see, unsurprisingly, Simon. A junior from a neighbouring department, hed been coincidentally popping up wherever I went these past couple of months. He always found a reason to chatabout reports, about the latest software, or would simply bump into me at the coffee machine.
I gave him a polite smile. He was a nice enough lad, but the fact that he was nearly twenty years my junior made his attempts at flirting a tad awkward. I appreciated his kindness, but honestly, I didnt understand why he persisted. He was clever; surely he could read the situation, could see there was no chance of anything other than a strictly work relationship between us.
Yes, just finishing up, I replied, trying to keep my tone friendly yet neutral. At long last, the projects finished.
Simon stepped closer, his hands deep in his trouser pockets. There was a half-worried, half-hopeful look in his eyes, like he was after an excuse to keep the conversation going.
Wow, congratulations! Word is, that client was well, tricky, he said, pausing to find the right adjective. Still, you shouldnt overdo it. Its not worth burning the candle at both ends.
I laughed. Tricky was putting it mildly. But in that moment, all that tension already felt like a distant memory. The end justifies the means, after all.
Its all good now. The whole department can finally have a breather, I replied, wearing my best work-issue smile, careful not to say too much. One word out of place and these conversations could turn awkward fast. Simon was eageralmost painfully soand required a certain delicacy. I needed to ensure he understood the boundaries, without wounding his pride.
Shall I give you a lift home? Your cars still out of action, isnt it? Simon blurted out, a little too quickly. It was suddenly clear hed been waiting for the moment to offer.
I sighed inwardly. Simon, honestly, you look like a puppy desperate to fetch a stick, I mused in my head. He looked so earnesteyes shining, eager, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was endearing really, but I had no intention of encouraging him.
Thank you, but Ive already called a cab, I said, gently but firmly. I stepped aside, attempting to pass.
But Simon blocked my way with an outstretched arm.
But its dangerous, he protested, brow furrowed in real concern. You dont know these drivers. What if its a nutter?
I paused, genuinely surprised by his fervour. It was obvious Simon was sincerely worried, his voice close to desperationwanting just a little more time in my presence.
Simon, I said, my tone firm but calm, Ill be fine. Taxis are a standard way of getting home, and theres nothing dangerous about it.
Making my intentions clear, I tried again to get past him. He stepped back, but wasnt finished yet.
But I could take you, safely! My cars fineIm a careful driver.
Ive been using the same cab firm for a couple of years, and I know the driverhes waiting just outside, I replied patiently, as if to a child. Besides, its rude to keep someone waiting. I really should go.
Though I kept my voice level and polite, my patience was wearing thin. Whatever happened, it was best not to drag this out.
Carefully sidestepping him, I hurried toward the exit. I could feel Simons disappointed gaze boring into my back, imagining his crestfallen expression. It couldnt be helped.
As I made my way down the corridor my thoughts circled back to how tricky navigating these conversations could be, especially because Simon was the son of the companys financial director. Otherwise, itd be easy enough to simply say, Sorry, but Im not interested, and that would be that. Instead, I had to be diplomatic, moving around pitfalls as delicately as possible.
If only Simon werent so used to always getting his way. His genuineif misplacedconcern was almost sweet, but the politics made everything more complicated.
Outside, I breathed in the crisp evening air. My cab stood waiting; the familiar driver nodded through the window. I slid in, casting a glance back at the office. Please, dont let him follow me home again like last time, I thought.
The drive home promised to be uneventfuljust what I needed. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and pushed Simon out of my mind. Ahead of me, finally, was a night of well-deserved rest, before I plunged back into the far more predictable challenges of work the next day.
*****
The companys thirtieth anniversary party was held at a fancy restaurant. The large hall sparkled with lights; the tables were laden with posh food, and gentle music drifted in the background. Colleagues, usually composed and distant, relaxed: there were jokes, laughter, flutes of champagne constantly raised in toasts.
I kept mostly to the sidelines, sipping sparkling water and making small talk only when necessary. The evening was shaping up to be pleasant enoughuntil Simon appeared in my line of sight.
Hed started the evening reserved, but drink by drink, his courageand persistencegrew. First a glance, then hovering nearer, and now, unsteady on his feet, he marched straight over. There was an odd, almost determined smile on his slightly flushed face.
Thats it, Ive decided! he called out, loud enough to cut through the chatter. The weddings in a month. Youll move in with me, quit your job, and wait for me at home!
His declaration was so shocking and absurd I was honestly lost for words. I stared at him, not sure if this was a jokeexcept his blazing eyes and set jaw left no doubt: he meant every word.
Before I had a chance to react, Simon leaned in, clearly aiming for a kiss. That woke me from my shockquickly, I jerked away, nearly spilling my glass.
Anger surged in my chest, the last months of awkwardness and forced politeness boiling over: the careful refusals, office rumours about Simons crush, the endless need to dodge and excuse myself.
What do you think youre doing?! My usually gentle voice cut through the room like a knife, drawing curious stares. A wedding? What on earth are you talking about?
Simon tried to reply, but I stopped him.
No, enough! I said, loud and clear. Your ridiculous advances have put me in an awkward position for months. Ive told you again and again that Im not interested, but you dont seem to hear me! Because of you, I have to put up with gossip, make excuses, evade conversations
With every word, my irritation and accumulated exhaustion poured out.
Do you know what? If you dont back off, Ill just resign. I dont need a job where I have to fend off inappropriate advances and put up with this nonsense!
By now, a small crowd had gathered, some hiding behind flutes of champagne, others pretending to be fascinated by the décor. I didnt care. For the first time, I said what Id wanted to say for so longand felt the weight lift.
Simon stood there, stunned and speechless. His face, so confident only moments ago, was now stricken and confused. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Think about it, I finished coldly, before turning heels and leaving him surrounded by uncomfortable silence and sideways glances.
In the dimly lit hallway, I leaned on the window, trying to get my breath back and stop my hands trembling with anger. The scene replayed in my mind, leaving me shaking with outrage. When my colleague appeared at my side, I finally blurted out:
It drives me mad that I cant simply tell off an arrogant little upstart just because his mother holds a senior post! My voice trembled with pent-up emotion. Do you think, with my experience, I couldnt find another job? I get headhunted every month! Ten years in this field, recommendations, a solid portfolio And yet, I have to put up with a boy who doesnt understand the word no!
I clenched my fists, staring through the dark glass, seeing my flushed face reflected back.
Before my colleague could answer, a strong, authoritative voice spoke from behind.
You dont need to leave.
Turning, I saw Mrs. Victoria Harpertall, impeccably dressed, her face a picture of authority and resolve.
I apologise for my son, she said, stopping just short of us. I never thought it would go this far. He’ll be transferred to another branch first thing tomorrow. This has gone on long enoughits scandalous.
From across the hall came a loud, indignant cry:
Stop deciding for me! Simon wobbled through the crowd to stand by his mother, his face red and stubborn. I dont want to be transferred! And I wont accept a refusal, Lydia! Youll regret this!
I turned pale; words caught in my throat, a hot cocktail of fear and outrage swirling in my chest.
Victoria Harpers expression hardened even more.
Hes had a bit too much, she said to security, who had appeared discreetly nearby. Please escort my son outside and to his car.
The guard nodded and approached Simon, who tried to protest, but Mrs. Harper cut him off.
Well discuss this at home. For nowgo.
Glowering, Simon muttered something under his breath, but under the combined force of his mothers gaze and the guard, he caved and was shown out. Silence fell, the drama hanging in the corridor.
Victoria Harper faced me again, her stiffness now replaced by genuine regret.
Again, I apologise, she whispered. I promise this wont happen again.
She nodded, turned, and returned to the party, leaving my colleague and me in the corridor, still reeling from what had just unfolded.
*****
Mum, Im in love! burst Emma as she charged into the lounge. Her face shone, eyes sparkling with excitement, an enormous grin planted on her lips. I couldnt help but smile in return. She flopped onto the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her, voice barely containing her glee. Hes wonderful! Attentive, kind just perfect!
Standing at the window with a mug of tea in hand, I smiled softly. It warmed my heart, seeing Emma so joyfulshed seemed withdrawn lately, but now, she was radiant.
And whats the name of this perfect gentleman? I asked, keeping my tone light even as my own heart fluttered with pride.
Simon! Emma breathed, lost in a dream. She didnt notice how I startled almost imperceptibly. Hes just fab, Mum! All my friends are jealous, honestly. They say hes a real catch.
I set my mug carefully on the table. In my mind, memories flashed byhis persistence, uneasy conversations at work, the scandal at the party. I took a deep breath, careful to mask my reaction.
So, when do I get to meet him? I asked, eyebrows raised. Normally, I never interfered in Emmas love lifeI respected her space. But the knowledge that her friends had already met Simon while I hadnt stung a little.
In a week! Im bringing him to Grans birthday doeveryone will be there. Its serious, Mum. Weve even even talked about marriage.
I frozea knot forming in my stomachbut kept myself in check. There was no point in upsetting her with questions or doubts. Best to wait, to see things through calmly.
Im looking forward to it, I replied, maintaining a warm, even voice. I cant wait to meet the man who makes you so happy.
Emma leapt up, hugging me tightly.
Youre the best Mum! Im so glad I can share this with you!
*****
Saturday morning, our countryside house was alive with activity. Grandma Dorothy was bustling about the kitchen, making sure everything was ready for the guests. The scent of fresh scones and pastries drifted through the house; from the living room, music tests burbled from the speakersmy nephews and nieces had decided a party needed a proper playlist.
By lunchtime, relatives began to arrive, some bringing homemade pickles, others bouquets for the table. Youngsters scampered around the garden, exploring every corner, while the house filled with a happy din of voices, laughter, chairs scraping, and the clatter of serving plates.
Soon the big table was surroundedover thirty faces: uncles, aunts, cousins, Grandmas dear old friends, and neighbours. Laughter and conversation flowed; the sound of clinking glasses drifted out of open windows. Even from the garden gateway it was clearthis was a proper celebration.
Grandma, perched at the head of the table, kept an eye on the front doorEmma and her guest were running late. Then came a text: On our way, dont wait for us! Grandma only chuckled.
Well, then, lets raise a glass to kick things off! The latecomers can join us when they arrive.
The party was in full swing when the door flew open. Emma stood beaming, radiant, clinging to the hand of a dashing young man, who strode in confidently at her side.
Weve arrived! Emma called out, drawing all eyes. This is my fiancé, Simon. Please make him welcome!
The room erupted in greetings and warm laughter. Some relatives brandished cameras to snap a first photo.
I, sitting nearby, froze. For a split second, I refused to believe it. There he wasSimon, that pestering colleague responsible for so many headaches, the one who had caused a public scene at the office party. To my horror, Emma truly did love this man.
And Simon caught my gaze, meeting my eyes deliberatelysmirking. He wore a look of utter satisfaction. It was as if he relished the moment, remembering the humiliation at the office party when Id rebuffed him, now feeling triumphant at joining the family through my only daughter.
Lovely to meet you Simon began, stepping towards Grandma for a handshake.
But before he could finish, I shot to my feet. My cheeks burned with anger, and my voice rang out, drowning the rooms noise:
Out. Get out of here! Nick, will you show him the doorand make sure he doesnt find his way back! Unbelievable! Did you think you could get your revenge through my daughter?
The silence was instant and absolute; relatives stared, goblets in hand, unsure whether to intervene or just stare.
Mum Emmas voice was small, her eyes wide, flickering between Simon and me.
I ignored the astonished faces, stepping closer to Simon, rage sharpening my words.
This is the same foolish boy who disgraced himself at the office do! Mrs Harper promised me shed rein him in, said shed have him transferred! Instead, you turn up here, making a mockery of my family?
Simon went white, but managed to steady himself. He started to speak, but Emmas voice cut in, thin and disbelieving.
That same? Simon, did you really harass my Mum? In front of the whole company? Is this some sick joke?
Simons fists clenched; his face twisted in anger.
So you told her? he spat at me, full of bitter fury. How could you How could you make me look such a fool in front of your daughter?
At last, my brother Nick barked a loud, rolling laugh, shattering the strained silence. He thumped his knee and, nearly choking with laughter, managed, Well, Emma, thats some fiancé youve picked! I saw his grand proposal at the partyhad me in stitches for days! Thought it was a gag Guess I was wrong!
His laughter proved infectious: first cautious snorts, then riotous giggles overwhelmed the room. Aunty Mary wiped away tears of mirth; Uncle George banged a glass for attention, as if egging everyone on.
Emma stood frozenfirst in outrage, then in bafflement, scanning the faces, slowly piecing it together. The silly boy of the party video, the braggart with his lovesick declarationsthat was her Simon. As the truth dawned, she remembered his bombastic speeches and affected bravado and suddenly saw just how ludicrous it all was.
Then she laughed. Softly at first, then louder, until peals of giggles spilled outgenuine, wild, releasing any last remnant of her infatuation or embarrassment.
Meanwhile, Simon, crimson with humiliation, stood by the front door, fists unclenching, his eyes darting fire. Hed dreamed of winning respect and status, of wielding influence inside the family, and instead, he was the butt of a joke.
Not another word; he spun about and stormed out of the garden, the slap of the gate echoing through the dying laughter.
The months-long planto revisit humiliation on me by joining my family, to win some fleeting authoritycollapsed into farce. All hed earned was widespread ridicule, and now his name would forever be tied to this foolish story.
When at last the laughter subsided, Uncle George approached Emma gently, reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Never mind, love, he said warmly. Youll find a better fiancé than thatone with brains and a sense of humour, and none of this melodrama.
The laughter returned, friendly and forgiving this time. Relatives began swapping stories about other family misadventures, someone changed the subject, and soon we were back to feasting.
Emma dabbed at her cheeksnot from sadness, but from shared laughterand smiled. Looking around at her familys open faces and kind eyes she realised: this, truly, was for the best.
