28October2025 Diary
I was at a little café on the corner of Kings Road, waiting for a quiet cup of tea and some thoughts about what comes next. The place was halffilled; a fresh latte steamed beside a slice of Victoria sponge on a saucer. She sat alone at a table, glancing at the door, evidently waiting for a friend.
Im not one to shy away from a chance meeting, so I slipped over and, in a tone that left little room for objection, asked, May I join you?
She smiled and replied, Sure, but Im expecting a friend, so you wont have to linger long.
I leaned in, Thats fine. I only need a few minutes to exchange phone numbers.
She raised an eyebrow, And what makes you think Ill give you mine? She broke off a piece of the cake.
I chuckled, Because you like sweets, and sweet things belong to decent folk. Im a decent sort myself.
She laughed, So you think youre a good person?
Absolutely, I said, taking a sip of my tea. Im as nice as they come.
She scoffed, Ive never met anyone so selfconfident.
And Ive never seen a beauty like you before.
She introduced herself as Poppy, extending her hand. I introduced myself as Harry, clasped her wrist, gave it a gentle squeeze and kissed her cheek so quickly that her cheeks flushed.
Youre being rather forward with a stranger, she warned.
Forward? Im simply being what I am a chap who cant help but be earnest, especially with someone as lovely as you.
She glimmered her wedding band on her left ring finger. Im married, Harry.
I laughed it off, Marriage today, single tomorrow its all the same in these days. Its a fragile thing, after all.
She sighed, I was raised to see marriage as a lifelong vow. So, I think its best we part ways now.
I tried to persuade her, I feel theres something between us. Lets at least swap numbers no strings attached. If we ever want to talk again, well have a way.
She answered coolly, Why would I give you my number?
Because Im not arrogant, just straightforward. If we like each other, why not meet again? I said with a grin that, I think, melted a fraction of her resolve.
She finally gave me her number, dictating it slowly. I promised to call, Ill call now and you can save my number; youll need it later.
She agreed, Alright, Ill keep it. Im meeting a friend soon, and Im not interested in gossip.
I understand, I said, rising to leave. Ill find another seat.
I took my cup and slipped to a corner table.
A week later I rang Poppy. She answered, her voice bright. We arranged to meet again at the same café.
When we sat, she sipped her tea and said, Harry, Im married. I work as a nurse at St.Thomass. My husband, Nigel, is a former soldier turned trainer of a youth combat club. Hes fiercely protective. I could meet you, but Im loyal.
I replied, Poppy, I like you a great deal and Im not about to walk away. Im a software developer for a modest firm in Manchester. I earn enough to enjoy life, but Im not chasing every pretty face. I just want to get to know you better.
I was a regular bachelor, never one to miss a chance encounter with an attractive woman, and Poppy had caught my eye. I was convinced we could make this work.
We met again, and soon enough we slipped into a secret affair. She told Nigel she was staying late at the hospital, but instead she spent the night at my flat. Neither of us noticed how quickly we fell for each other, and we began meeting whenever we could.
One evening Poppy called, Nigels away on a competition for a week. Ill be home tonight, waiting for you.
Is it safe? I asked. Maybe we should meet at my place as usual.
No, she insisted, Ill cook a romantic dinner for us. Im tired of meeting in my bachelorpad.
I promised to be there at night.
When the appointed hour arrived, I knocked on her door carrying a bouquet, a bottle of champagne, a decent red wine, a cake and a box of chocolates. She had prepared a lovely meal; the fizz and the wine loosened our nerves, and after dinner we retired to the bedroom, expecting a night as tender as the candlelit dinner.
At two in the morning a harsh knock echoed. We sat up, startled. Poppy peered through the peephole.
Its Nigel, she whispered, Harry, its over! Hide!
I fumbled, Where?
She could only say, I dont know!
A drunken voice shouted from outside, Poppy, love, open up! Its me, Nigel! I left my keys at work, so Im knocking.
Poppy, trembling, looked at me. What do we do?
He sounded halfinebriated, Open the door, love!
With a pale face, he kept pounding. I shoved my belongings under the bed, slipped into the bathroom in my boxers, and tried to stay out of sight.
Poppy hissed, Dont stand there, youll get caught!
I whispered, I need the bathroom.
She snapped, Go to the loo, then back to bed!
He laughed, I want it now, I want it now!
The drunk Nigel staggered toward the toilet, oblivious to me crouched behind the tiled wall. The bathroom was a cramped wetroom, a toilet jammed next to the bath. I clambered onto the ledge, pressed my back against the wall, and tried to keep silent.
Nigels eyes were fixed on the porcelain, his mind on the drink. He sang a slurred tune, his voice booming in the tiny space. I held my breath, feeling the walls vibrate.
When he finally turned away, I slipped out, grabbed my coat and the few items Id brought, and bolted down the stairs, barefoot, shirtless, with only my trousers and a handful of things. The building had twelve floors, two fast lifts, but fear propelled me faster than any elevator.
I raced down the stairwell, burst onto the street, and didnt look back.
A few minutes later Nigel, still wobbling, finally regained his senses. He stared at the empty doorway, bewildered.
Poppy, later that morning, scolded him, You really ought to drink less.
Reflecting on it all, I realise I was chasing a woman who was already bound by vows, and in doing so, I tangled myself in a night of deceit, danger and desperation. Ive learned that respect for someones commitments is worth more than the thrill of a forbidden romance.
Lesson:When a relationship is already sealed, its wiser to keep the door closed rather than try to pick the lock.
