What She Saw in Him: A Decade-Long Story
We’d waited for this reunion what felt like a lifetime. Ten years—no small stretch of time. Our village’s old Year 11 class had gathered again, nearly everyone. Some arrived with children, others with greying beards, and a few with nothing but memories. Only Will was missing—always off traveling—and Lucy, who was home with her newborn.
Then the door swung open.
She walked in.
Emily.
The room froze, as if caught in an old film reel. Someone dropped a fork. Another held their breath. And me? My knees went weak, just like they had back in school. That same radiant smile. The same effortless grace. Only now—there was a ring on her finger. A wedding band.
“Tom, you haven’t changed a bit!” she called cheerfully as she passed.
I wanted to reply, but my tongue betrayed me. Just like it had ten years ago.
Back then, we were just a pack of love-struck boys—six of us, all utterly smitten with Emily. Bright, clever, untouchable. She was friendly with everyone but kept us all at arm’s length. We trailed after her like hypnotised puppies.
“Honestly, you lot are like dogs at a wedding,” hissed Hannah Croft, her voice trembling with hurt. We never noticed.
“Jealous?” someone shot back. I never saw how her fingers curled into fists. Never saw the despair in her eyes, not anger.
Meanwhile, Emily… more often than not, she stayed behind after lessons with Victor Smith. Quiet, unremarkable Victor, who carried her books, walked her home, and faded into the background so thoroughly we never even considered him competition.
“What does she see in him?” I’d grumbled once. “No spark, no nerve!”
“Yet he’s the one at the library with her every evening,” smirked Toby. “Where are you?”
The girls despised Emily. Teachers shook their heads—our tight-knit class had crumbled like a house of cards. Then came the scandal.
It happened at lunch. Emily skipped into the room, bright-eyed and laughing—until she sat down. Then she leapt up as if scalded. The back of her dress was drenched in raspberry jelly, sticky and reeking of spoiled fruit. She burst into tears and fled.
Chaos erupted. We turned on each other—who? why? I was certain it was Hannah. The girls eyed one another with suspicion. That was the day our class shattered. We skipped prom. Didn’t even take a group photo. Just scattered with our diplomas and quiet bitterness.
Now, here we were. Emily laughed like it had never happened. She was the one who’d tracked us all down online, organised this. We’d reconnected, old wounds fading as we reminisced in our old classroom, recalling pranks, crushes, playground scuffles. We laughed until our sides ached. Then Emily led a tall man forward.
“Recognise him?” she grinned. “My brother, Alex.”
The scrawny kid who used to trail after us? We gaped.
“Go on, confess,” Emily nudged him.
Alex shifted awkwardly. “It was me. I poured that jelly on the chair. I was angry—she made me rewrite my homework three times…”
Silence. Over a child’s petty revenge, we’d missed prom. Missed goodbye. Lost ten years of friendship.
Later, we shared updates—families, careers. I stayed quiet. I had nothing to say. Then Emily stood, walked to Victor, and hugged him gently.
“We’ve been married five years,” she said. “It started after school.”
Ice shot through me. Victor Smith. Really?
I found him later. “How?”
He smiled, calm, unassuming.
“She broke her leg skiing after graduation. Six months in a cast. I visited every day. Read to her. Listened when she was scared.” He paused. “One night, she cried, terrified she’d never walk again. I promised I’d carry her if I had to.”
I took a swig of whiskey. “You earned her.”
He nodded. “I just loved her. No conditions.”
As everyone left, I lingered by the door. Watched Emily whisper something that made Victor blush just like he had at eighteen. Then Hannah appeared beside me.
“Well, hero? Lost?”
I looked at her—properly, for the first time in a decade. The sharp-edged girl was gone. A woman stood there now. Composed. Alone.
“No,” I said. “I just wasn’t worthy.”
She sipped her brandy, holding my gaze. “Took you ten years to say it.”
I swallowed. “Sorry.”
“You’re free now, Tom,” she said softly. “But I’m not that girl waiting by the window anymore.”
Suddenly, I understood—she’d loved me all along. And I’d been blind.
“Walk with me?” I asked quietly.
Hannah smiled faintly. “No promises. Just walk beside me.”
I agreed. After all, it’s never too late to begin again.
