One Love Forever
“Hey. What are you up to? Fancy meeting up? Where? At our usual café Perfect, Im already here waiting.” Oliver slipped his phone into his pocket, still grinning.
He and Emma had known each other since school. She was everything hed ever dreamed ofgorgeous, effortlessly elegant, the kind of girl who made heads turn without even trying. Meanwhile, Oliver? Just an ordinary bloke, painfully average, hopelessly smitten. He knew he wasnt some tall, dashing heartthrob, but surely love wasnt just about looks, was it? If only shed give him a chance, shed see all the other things he had to offer.
Hed trailed after her like a lovesick puppy for years. Emma tolerated his attention, even seemed fond of him, but never more than that. Hed watch her flit from one bloke to another, his stomach twisting with jealousy, throwing himself into half-hearted flings with other girls just to spite her. But no matter what, he couldnt shake her from his thoughts.
“Hi!” Emma slid into the seat across from him.
Oliver had been so lost in thought he hadnt even noticed her approach.
“Hey.” He couldnt hide the desperate joy in his voice or stop staring.
“Earth to Oliver!” Emma laughed, bright and teasing.
He glanced away, his chest aching with the urge to pull her close. At the next table, some bloke was eyeing her too, and Oliver barely stopped himself from snapping, “Piss off, mateshes mine!” Except, of course, she never had been.
“Fancy grabbing us some coffee?” Emmas eyes sparkled with mischief.
Oliver leapt up, returning moments later with two steaming cups and Emmas favourite slice of Victoria sponge. He sat back down, tore open a sugar sachet, and stirred it into his drink with unnecessary concentration.
“Everything alright?” Emma studied him, her playful glint fading.
“Yeah, fine. Just wanted to see you, thats all.” He slid a little fridge magnet across the table.
“Thanks!” She picked it up, turning it over in her hands.
Theyd been meeting at this café for yearsthe kind of place where the smell of coffee clung to the walls. Their café. A decade ago, right here, Oliver had confessed his feelings. Emma had smiled kindly and said he was lovely, but theyd only ever be friends.
“Look aroundplenty of girls here. You could make any of them happy.”
“But not you?” Oliver asked.
“Sorry.”
Hed been so furious theyd nearly argued. Then Emma warned that if he kept pushing, shed have to cut ties. Oliver backed down instantly. Better thisbetter occasional coffees and stolen momentsthan nothing at all. Maybe someday
After that, hed tried to bury his feelings. Dated other women, even got married, convinced it would erase Emma from his heart. Shed seen his wedding photos online, left cheerful congratulations, genuinely happy for him. He hadnt replied. Later, hed posted honeymoon snaps from a tropical island, waiting for her reaction. It took ages. Emma was probably busy. When she finally liked every photo and gushed about how happy he looked with his wife, Oliver seethed. *You couldve been the one in those pictures.*
Hed called her anyway, suggesting they meet at the café. And so it wentshort messages, birthday flowers, souvenirs from his holidays to Spain or France. Shed like his posts, and hed read too much into her excited comments. Emma would admire his tan, listen to his travel stories, then deftly tuck the trinket into her bag, thank him, and vanish.
Years passed. He divorced his wifeshe couldnt have children, and hed always wanted a family. But Emma had her own life, no room for him. Then she got married.
The agony was unbearable. Jealousy, rage, petty revenge flingsnothing helped. One day, he checked her profile and saw a tiny hand with a hospital tag: Emmas name, the birthdate of her son. He left a stiff congratulations while his heart screamed. *That shouldve been me.*
He married again. When his new wife, Charlotte, gave birth to their daughter Lily, he almost believed he could be happy without Emma. He posted gushing family photos, captioned *My two favourite girls.* He avoided Emmas profile.
Done. Hed moved on.
Then he left his phone at home. Charlotte snooped, found old messages with Emmanothing incriminating, but the sheer existence of them set her off. When Oliver got home, she screamed, accused him of cheating, threatened to ruin Emmas life.
“You wont.”
“Try me,” Charlotte spat, eyes blazing. Oliver believed her. He promised to cut contact.
They patched things up, but the air between them stayed frosty. Even Lilys laughter couldnt thaw it.
Then Emma called. She wanted to meet.
He raced to the café like a teenager. Emma looked differentstill beautiful, but dimmed. Her husband was cheating; she wanted a divorce. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
“Your husbands an idiot. What can I do? Want me to have a word? Or just punch him?” Oliver offered.
Emma shook her head, composed herself, and asked about him.
“Fine. Made another mess of things. Probably getting divorced too.”
“What? But youve got Lily!”
“Yeah, well, your husband had a son and still strayed. Only staying for my daughters sake. Funnydated loads, never got anyone pregnant. Thought it was me. Then Charlotte did. But I still cant forget you. Its like a curse.”
“Are you mad? That schoolboy crush was *years* ago. Were friends.”
*Your words, not mine,* Oliver thought.
“Oliver” Emma covered his hand with hers. “I shouldnt have called. Im selfish. Stringing you along without realising. I should go.”
“Wait.” He gripped her hand. “You *are* selfish. You made up this friendship game, and I played along just to see you. You never cared how I felt. You only call when *youre* hurting. I tried to forget youmarried out of spite. But youre like an obsession. Like in *Twilight* or whatever. I know Im no film star, but bloody hell, Emma, how much longer?”
She stared, shocked by the outburst. Oliver stood, tossed cash on the table, and walked out.
He drove for hours, cursing himself, her, the universe. Nearly slammed the accelerator just to end the ache.
*Whats so special about her? Beautiful and cold. Shell fade, end up alone, regret it. Enough.* He stopped calling, liking, commenting. From her posts, he gathered shed divorced.
Months later, they bumped into each other outside Tesco. She was with her son. A bit rounder, softer, but still Emmano, better.
“Hi! Whereve you been hiding?” she asked, as if nothing had happened.
“Nowhere. Same old place. You? Not remarried?”
“God, no. Still recovering. Men are off the menu.” She ruffled her sons hair. “Were good, right?”
“Right,” the boy agreed.
Oliver bit back the words clawing at his throat*I still love you.* But the kid was watching.
“Need a lift home?”
“Ive got the car,” Emma said.
“Then Ill walk you to it.”
At the car, her son clambered into the back.
“Good seeing you,” Emma smiled.
“You too.”
“Bye.” She waved and drove off.
Oliver memorised her number plate, followed at a distance, beeping and flashing his lights like an idiot. She beeped back, laughing, until she turned into her estate. He drove home, empty-handed.
“Whereve you been? Forgotten how shops work?” Charlotte snapped.
Then it clicked. “You saw *her*, didnt you? Shes single nowwhy dont you just divorce me and”
The divorce was ugly. Charlotte fought dirty, limited his time with Lily. He gave her the flat, clawed back a few weekly hours. His mum piled on, berating him.
One freezing weekend, he took Lily to a soft-play centre. And there was Emma, with her son.
The kids hit it off instantly. *We look like a proper family. If only.* Olivers chest tightenedpain, darkness.
“Oliver?! Someone call an ambulance!” Emmas voice pierced the fog.
*Whos ill?* Then nothing.
He woke up on a stretcher, struggling to breathe.
“Dont worry, Ill take Lily home,” Emma said, her face swimming above him before medics wheeled him away.
She visited the next day.
“You scared me half to death. Thought it was a heart attack. Thank God it wasnt.”
“Ill godont want to run into your wife. She said some nasty things when I dropped Lily off”
“Dont worry, she wont come. Em will you visit tomorrow?”
A week later, discharged, they sat in the café again.
“Should you be drinking coffee?” Emma frowned.
“One wont kill me.”
“When you collapsed I was terrified. Kept thinking about school, all those little gifts you brought back from trips, our coffees Imagining life without you Weve known each other so long, its like a marriage without the paperwork. The passions gone, but the cares still there. And whos to say which matters more? Maybe we could try?”
“Emma,” was all Oliver could manage.
All those years of waiting, and it took a near-heart attack to hear it.
The next day, he dragged her to the registry office.
“You just got divorced! Shouldnt we take it slow?” Emma protested.
“Nope. What if you change your mind?”
The wedding was tinyjust the café again. They postponed the honeymoon. Emma longed to see the ocean, but refused to go where Oliver had been with his exes. He suggested the Canarieseternal spring, black volcanic sand, exotic birds. Sometimes, yellow clouds hovered on the horizon: sand blown in from the Sahara.
At night, with her son asleep, theyd lie tangled together, listening to the waves.
“Em Ive never been happier.”
“Me neither. All that wasted time.”
“Well make up for it. Weve got forever.”
