The Second Try
“We got in! Hurray!” shouted Poppy, throwing her hands in the air.
“Keep it down, will you?” muttered Harriet, spotting the disapproving glare of an elderly woman walking past.
“I can’t help it! I want everyone to celebrate with me!” Poppy jumped up and down, arms raised again.
A man shook his head, while two lads nearby flashed her a thumbs-up and grinned.
“Pops, enough—you’re making a scene,” Harriet huffed.
“God, you’re such a bore, Hattie. Look, I’m starving. Fancy a cuppa somewhere?”
“Yeah, fine,” Harriet agreed instantly, just to get Poppy to stop shouting.
At the café, they ordered juice and a pizza to share.
When the waitress brought their food, Poppy rubbed her hands together, grabbed a slice, and bit into it with relish.
“Mmm… bloody brilliant! Bet I could finish this whole pizza myself, you watch,” she said through a full mouth.
Harriet reached for her own slice but froze.
“Go on, then. I’m not that hungry,” she said.
“Hattie, can’t you take a joke?” Poppy stopped chewing. “Eat, or I’ll be proper cross. So, what’s your plan before lectures start?”
“Dunno. Just gonna relax, recharge a bit,” Harriet shrugged.
“Well, me and the fam are off to Cornwall day after next. Fancy tagging along?” Poppy grabbed another slice.
“On foot? It’s peak season—no tickets left. I’ll manage fine at home.”
“Right, selfish of me. Should’ve thought. Next year, yeah? You’re definitely coming,” Poppy promised.
“Assuming I live that long,” Harriet deadpanned.
“Oi, that bloke at the next table hasn’t stopped staring at you,” Poppy whispered, nudging her.
“Who?” Harriet spun around and locked eyes with a guy with tousled curls. He grinned, glasses glinting.
Harriet flushed and looked away.
“Not bad, honestly. Looks a bit like that bloke off telly. Oh—he’s coming over,” Poppy hissed.
“Mind if I join you?” A voice spoke behind Harriet.
“Go on then,” Poppy nodded at the empty chair.
“Cheers. I’m Sebastian,” he said, sitting down.
“Bit posh, isn’t it?” Poppy snorted.
“Spot on. Means ‘venerable’ or ‘revered.’ Family tradition—every other generation gets the name. My grandad was Sebastian Oliver, my dad Oliver Sebastian, and now me, Sebastian Oliver.”
“What if it’s a girl?” Poppy leaned in.
“Oh, plenty of girls. But the family kept at it till a lad showed up. Tradition, innit? And you are?” He turned to Harriet.
“I’m Poppy. Just Poppy,” she said, shaking his hand. “This is Harriet.”
Sebastian shook her hand but kept his eyes on Harriet.
“Lovely name.”
“Right, I’m off. You two chat,” Poppy stood abruptly.
“Pops, where are you going?” Harriet panicked.
“Chill. Actually gotta pack. Cornwall, remember?” She winked and strutted off.
“Not in a rush, are you?” Sebastian asked hopefully.
“No, but—”
“Brilliant. Fancy a film? Or just a walk?” he cut in.
“Always this forward?” Harriet arched a brow.
“Nah. Only when I like someone.”
“You liked me in five minutes?”
“First impressions count,” he shrugged.
Harriet sighed. “Fine. Film it is.”
The movie was decent. They sat in the half-empty cinema—weekday matinee and all. Sebastian took her hand. She only pulled away when the lights came up.
“Walk you home?” he asked outside.
“Mum’s expecting me.”
“Right. Can I at least escort you?”
They chatted easily. Sebastian had a knack for funny stories. Harriet hadn’t laughed that much in ages.
“Here we are,” she said, oddly disappointed.
“Shame. You live with your mum?”
“Yep. You?”
“Dad. Parents split—both remarried. Mum’s new husband was a nightmare, always lecturing me. So I moved in with Dad. His wife’s… something else, but at least she leaves me be. Seriously though, I like you. Can I come by tomorrow? Say noon?”
Harriet nodded and dashed inside.
They spent every day together until term started. Young love moved fast.
“Let’s move in together,” Sebastian blurted one day.
“Seb, we’ve barely known each other. How? We’re skint students.”
“Got Nan’s flat. Dad’ll agree. Scared your mum’ll say no? We could just marry. I’ll pick up shifts—”
“Dunno if that’s smart,” Harriet hedged.
“Knew you’d chicken out.”
“I’m not scared!”
“Really? Harriet, I adore you!” He spun her around.
For a moment, she believed they’d be happy. And at first, they were.
They married quickly. Sebastian’s dad gave them money saved for a wedding, urging frugality. But funds ran low fast.
Sebastian took evening shifts at a burger joint. Exhausted, he flunked classes. Harriet realized he’d fail his first year if this kept up.
“Pasta again?” Sebastian grimped at midnight.
“Can’t afford meat,” she sighed.
“So I’m not earning enough, is that it?” he snapped.
“No! But you need to quit that job. You’ll get kicked out. Seb, let’s end this before we start hating each other.”
“Don’t overreact. Just tired.”
“I can’t watch you burn out. I don’t love you anymore.”
“Liar.” He pulled her close.
“I don’t,” she repeated, wrenching free. “I’m leaving tomorrow. You should go back to your dad.”
After more arguing, Sebastian finally sighed, “Fine. Go.”
She packed and left. The divorce was quick.
Thankfully, they rarely crossed paths at uni. Sebastian always had some girl clinging to him, pretending not to see Harriet. Nights were spent muffling sobs in her pillow. She’d wanted to confess she’d lied—she loved him, but leaving seemed kinder. But what then? Same cycle. So she suffered silently.
She dated others, but it never stuck. Her heart belonged to Sebastian. After graduation, she settled into work, dated half-heartedly, but no one compared.
Years passed.
One day, she bumped into Poppy at Tesco. Married with a toddler and pregnant again, they caught up over tea.
“Still single? Pining for Seb?” Poppy teased.
“Hardly. Kids playing house. We quit before it turned toxic.”
“So why not remarry? You’re fit, loads of blokes about.”
“Dunno. Maybe I’m not cut out for it.”
“Rubbish. Women are wired for family.”
“Yeah? Tell that to infertile women.”
“Point is, you need someone.”
“Where are these mythical men? Married, or… I won’t settle. Drop it,” Harriet snapped.
“Alright, grumpy. Just want you happy.”
A week later, Poppy rang, suggesting the same café where they’d met Sebastian.
“Did you pick this place on purpose?” Harriet eyed the room.
“Sorry, didn’t think,” Poppy winced.
“It’s fine. Just don’t start.”
“Kicking like mad. Can’t wait to pop,” Poppy groaned.
“Tea? Coffee? Or a Coke, like old times?”
“No caffeine. Tea and cake. Craving sugar.”
The waitress delivered their order.
“Remember sharing pizza here? Had some recently—nowhere near as good. Everything tasted better back then.” Poppy stirred her tea, glancing past Harriet.
“Who’re you looking for?” Harriet turned—and froze.
Sebastian walked in, hair shorter, no glasses (contacts, probably), clutching two bouquets.
“You invited him? Why?” Harriet hissed.
“Because you’re both miserable. Talk already—”
“Ladies,” Sebastian beamed, handing them each flowers. “Mind if I join?” He sat uninvited.
“You two catch up. Nursery pickup,” Poppy fled.
“You set this up?” Harriet glared.
“Nope. Poppy called. Said we needed to talk. Harriet… I never moved on. Neither did you, apparently.”
“Oh? Dated others but pined for me?” she scoffed, heart pounding.
“Didn’t date anyone. Wanted to make you jealous. Hoped you’d come back. Did you really stop loving me?”
Silence.
“We were good together. Just dumb kids, skint and clueless. Maybe we could try again? Properly this time.”
“You think a do-over’ll work? We’re different people.”
“It’llThey did try again, and this time—older, wiser, and with a little help from fate—they made it work, proving that second chances, though rare, are sometimes just what the heart needs.
