**One Love Forever**
I still remember the day I texted her: *»Hey. What are you up to? Fancy meeting up? Our usual café?»* I slipped my phone into my pocket, grinning like a fool.
Natasha and I had been classmates in secondary school. She was stunningslim, graceful, the kind of girl who haunted a boys dreams. Me? I was nothing special. Just an ordinary bloke, short and unremarkable, hopelessly in love. Back then, I convinced myself that love wasnt about looks. If shed given me a chance, shed have seen the better parts of me.
I trailed after her like a lovesick puppy. Natasha tolerated my devotion but never returned it. I watched her date one boy after another, burning with jealousy. In defiance, I dated other girls, but none of them mattered. Only her.
*»Hey!»* She slid into the seat across from me. Id been so lost in thought I hadnt even noticed her approach.
*»Hi.»* My voice cracked with barely contained joy. I couldnt look away.
*»Earth to Anthony!»* she laughed, bright and teasing. I glanced down, my chest aching with the need to hold her. A man at the next table was staring too. I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to snap: *Shes mine!* Except she never was.
*»Mind grabbing us some coffee?»* Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
I hurried to the counter and returned with two steaming cups and her favourite slice of Victoria sponge. I stirred sugar into mine, my hands steady despite the storm inside.
*»Something wrong?»* Natasha studied me, her playful glint fading.
*»No, just wanted to see you.»* I slid a fridge magnet toward hera silly little souvenir.
*»Thanks!»* She turned it over in her hands, smiling.
Wed met here for years, in this café that smelled of roasted beans. A decade ago, in this very spot, Id confessed my feelings. *»Youre lovely,»* shed said, *»but were just friends.»*
*»Look at all the girls here. You could make any of them happy.»*
*»But not you?»* Id asked.
*»Sorry.»*
Id been so angry we nearly fell out. She warned me thenif I pushed, shed cut me off completely. Fear kept me quiet. At least this way, I could still see her. Maybe one day
So I buried my feelings. I tried to forget herdated, even married, thinking it would cure me. Natasha congratulated me on the wedding photos I posted, genuinely happy for me. I didnt reply. Later, I uploaded holiday snaps from the Maldives, waiting for her reaction. It took days. When she finally liked them, commenting on how perfect my wife and I looked, bitterness curdled in my gut. *That couldve been you.*
I called her, suggesting the café. We fell back into old rhythmsbirthday flowers, holiday souvenirs, coffee dates where Id ramble about my travels while she admired my tan. But every time I edged toward something deeper, shed tuck the trinket into her handbag, murmur excuses, and leave.
Years passed. My marriage endedno children, though Id wanted them. Natasha had her own life, no room for me. Then she married someone else.
The agony was unbearable. I drowned in jealousy, dated recklessly, but nothing helped. Then one day, I saw ita tiny newborn hand on her social media, a hospital bracelet with her name. I congratulated her, screaming inside. *That shouldve been my child.*
I married again. When my wife, Emily, gave birth to our daughter Lily, I almost believed I could be happy without Natasha. I posted pictures, captioned *»My two girls, my everything.»* I avoided Natashas profile.
Then, carelessly, I left my phone at home. Emily found old messages with Natasha. Nothing incriminating, but their existence was enough. She raged, accused me of infidelity, threatened revenge. *»You wont!»* I shouted.
*»Try me,»* she hissed, eyes blazing. Fear for Natasha forced my surrender. *Fine. No more contact.*
We reconciled, but the air between us turned icy. Even Lilys laughter couldnt warm it.
Then Natasha called. *»Fancy a coffee?»*
I flew to the café. She was still beautiful, but dimmed, weary. Her husband was cheating; she wanted a divorce. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
*»Hes a fool. Let me talk to himor punch him,»* I offered.
She refused, asked about me instead.
*»Messed up again. Emily and I its over.»*
*»But you have Lily!»*
*»Your husband had a sondidnt stop him.»* I sighed. *»I tried to forget you. But youre like an obsession. Like in *Twilight*imprinted, or whatever.»*
Natasha stared, startled by my outburst. I stood, tossed cash on the table, and left.
I drove for hours, cursing myself, her, the world. *Whats so special about her?* I thought bitterly. *Beautiful and cold. One day, shell regret this.*
I stopped calling, stopped liking her posts. From her updates, I gathered shed divorced.
Months later, we bumped into each other outside Tesco. She was with her son.
*»Long time no see,»* she said lightly.
*»Ive been around.»*
*»Seeing anyone?»*
*»God, no. Never again,»* she laughed, ruffling her boys hair. *»Were good, arent we?»*
*»Yeah,»* he agreed.
I bit back the words clawing at my throat*I still love you.*
*»Need a lift?»* I asked.
*»Drove here.»*
I walked them to her car, memorising the number plate as she drove off. Then, on impulse, I followed. We played a silly gameme honking, flashing lights, her laughing in the rearview. Childish, but it felt like old times. Until she turned into her estate, and I kept driving.
*»Whereve you been?»* Emily snapped when I got home. *»Forgot the shopping, didnt you? Too busy with Natasha?»*
The divorce was brutal. Emily kept the flat; I got Lily every other weekend. Mum berated me endlessly.
One icy afternoon, I took Lily to a soft play centreand there was Natasha, with her son. The kids played while we watched, an almost-family. My chest tightened.
*»Anthony? Someone call an ambulance!»* Natashas voice cut through the fog.
Darkness swallowed me.
I woke to being loaded into the ambulance, lungs crushed. *»Dont worry, Ill take Lily home,»* Natasha promised.
She visited me in hospital the next day. *»You scared me. Thought it was a heart attack.»*
*»Come back tomorrow?»* I begged.
A week later, we sat in the café again. *»Should you be drinking coffee?»* she fretted.
*»One wont hurt.»*
She sighed. *»When you collapsed I remembered everything. School, your souvenirs, all those coffees. It felt like a long marriage. The passions gone, but the bond remains. Maybe we could try?»*
My heart stuttered. All those years, and it took a near-death experience to hear those words.
The next day, I dragged her to the registry office. *»Lets not rush,»* she said.
*»No. What if you change your mind?»*
We married quietly, just a café meal with close friends. Our honeymoonTenerife, where black sand met turquoise waveswas postponed for summer.
At night, once her son slept, wed lie tangled together, listening to the ocean.
*»Nat, Im so happy,»* I whispered.
*»Me too. All that wasted time.»*
*»Well make up for it. Weve got forever. The years slipped by like pages in a well-loved book. Lily and Natashas son grew up calling each other siblings, squabbling over toys and sharing secrets under tree forts. We moved into a little house with a garden, where Natasha planted roses and I pretended not to fuss over them daily. Every morning, I made her coffee just righttwo sugars, splash of milkand every evening, we sat on the porch, hands linked, watching the sky burn red. No grand drama, no sweeping romancejust quiet, steady love, the kind that doesnt shout but hums, constant and sure. And sometimes, when she laughedthat bright, teasing laughId catch myself grinning like that foolish boy again, the one who once texted, *»Fancy meeting up?»* and never stopped hoping.
