**Diary Entry – 5th March**
Emily hurried home after a gruelling day at work. Her mind raced through the evening’s tasks: feed the cat, change clothes, freshen up, then dash off to meet William. Her thoughts whirled like autumn leaves in the wind, so absorbed she scarcely noticed reaching her building’s entrance. Then she froze—near the corner, shadowed by the eaves, stood a figure. Unclear, unsettling.
Her pulse quickened. Frantically, she dug through her handbag for her keys. The silhouette moved closer—and as light fell across his face, recognition hit like a punch. There stood… James. *That* James. The one she’d left. The one who’d trapped her in a year of emotional games.
*”You’ll never do better than me. Mark my words—I’ll have someone new by next week,”* he’d sneered as she packed her things. He’d always known where to strike, how to twist her fears into submission. His tactics never changed: belittle, intimidate, make her doubt. *You’ll end up alone. I’ll thrive.*
And it worked. For months, Emily stayed, convinced she’d never find better. Every attempt to leave triggered the same script. Until one day, something in her shifted.
*”I can’t take Felix yet—my mate’s got the carrier. I’ll fetch him next week. Just keep feeding him, yeah? Clean the tray.”* Her voice was calm, as if his threats were static.
*”Why the hell should I? He’s *your* cat! Walk out now, and I’ll toss him in the bin!”* he spat, desperate.
*”You won’t. You’ve never followed through on a single threat.”* She shut the door—for good.
Days later, she found Felix cowering near a skip, alive but shaken. So he’d kept *one* promise. And Emily knew then: no turning back.
Starting over proved easier than she’d feared. A flat came quickly. Work consumed her. The wedding with James never happened; the rings gathered dust. He’d demanded them back, of course—*”They were never yours.”*
*”I’m chuffed for you, Em! Finally free,”* her mate hugged her.
*”Ta… But what if he’s right? What if no one better comes along?”*
*”Don’t talk daft! Tell you what—bet you won’t walk up to the first bloke in the café and ask him out.”*
*”You’re mad! I can’t just—”*
*”Scared, then?”*
Half an hour later, her mate nudged her—*”Him.”* A bloke by the window, sipping tea, lost in thought.
*”Erm… Hi. I’m Emily. We’ve a silly bet on, and… well, you’re the first chap I saw. Fancy a date?”*
*”Why not?”* He grinned. *”I’m Will. Free tonight—fancy a film?”*
Kind, easygoing, he made her laugh through the movie, whispered jokes, walked her home, texted first next morning. Emily couldn’t believe it—no games, no knives hidden in words.
But the past clawed back.
Tonight, rushing to meet Will, she collided with familiar broad shoulders. James.
*”Look who it is! Too good to visit now? Cat’s long gone, eh? Or did you ditch him too? Found some poor sod to fool already? When’s my turn, love? Got a slot between Sarah from number twelve and Hannah from the office!”*
He reeked of lager, voice slurring louder, crueller.
*”James, go home. I’ve not got time,”* she tried to sidestep.
*”Too busy for me?”*
Then—an interruption. A firm hand yanked James aside. Will stood there.
*”Couldn’t reach you, so I came to meet you. Then *this* happens.”* He shot James a glare. *”Shall we go, before he makes a proper scene?”*
James’ shouts faded behind them.
*”I wondered what’d make a girl march up to a stranger in a café,”* Will murmured, smiling. *”Now I know. After surviving *that*—you’ve nothing left to fear.”*
And Emily realised: every step had led here. Even the bet. Especially that night.
**Lesson learnt:** Some doors close so better ones can open. And sometimes, courage is just walking away—before you’re ready to run.
