London Love
I’m leaving. You understand, I can’t do this anymore. You’re not with me. It drives me mad knowing you’re with him… I’m better off gone, vanished from your life.
“Where are you going?”
“Far away.”
“Will we ever see each other again?”
“From now on, we each have our own path, our own lives. Goodbye.”
James picked up the bag at his feet and walked away slowly, half-expecting Emily to call after him, to run and say she’d come with him.
But she didn’t call. She didn’t follow. After a few steps, he turned back. She stood in the same spot, smiling faintly. Then she blinked, and two tears rolled down her cheeks. He didn’t see. He walked faster, refusing to look back. When he disappeared from sight, she went inside.
“Son, maybe you shouldn’t go.”
“Mum, I’ve been hired by a top firm. Out of all the applicants, they chose me—my project, can you believe it? My buildings won’t be in some forgotten town but right in London. You’ll be proud of me someday.”
“And what about me?”
“You won’t be alone. Uncle Mark will help. He won’t let you be lonely.”
“You knew? For how long?” His mother looked at him, startled, then glanced away. “You’re not leaving because of this, are you?”
“No, of course not. He loves you. Enough being alone—you’re still young. Be happy, Mum. I’ll visit, call when I can. If I don’t, don’t panic—it just means I’m busy. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
“And don’t cry. Imagine, fifty years from now, people will point at my building and say it was designed by James Whitmore. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Not exactly Wren, but still something.”
His mother smiled through tears and hugged him. “Take care of yourself. You’re all I have.”
James felt her frail body shake with held-back sobs.
“Mum, this is luck—they noticed me. They chose me.”
***
Leaving his hometown weighed heavily on James, but his heart pulled him toward the capital. He’d sent his project in on a whim, testing fate, expecting nothing. When the reply came—approved, with revisions, an invitation to discuss plans—he couldn’t believe it.
The whole trip, staring out the train window, he dreamed of his future. So what if his building wasn’t in the city centre? London had been a village once, too. Soon, the outskirts would flourish, and he’d be the one who started it all.
The station swallowed him in noise—shouts, laughter, horns, brakes screeching. People rushed in every direction. How did anyone survive this chaos without losing their mind?
Joy, awe, fear—James felt it all. What if they said it was a mistake? What if he failed?
The crowd swept him into the Underground. Two hours later, he found the firm’s office. The secretary apologised—the director was at a site.
“Come back tomorrow,” she said with a polite smile.
“Alright,” James replied. The offer had promised accommodation. Now he’d have to sleep at the station.
“Wait—” She handed him an address. “Your dormitory.”
He could’ve kissed her in relief. A dorm room wasn’t glamorous, but it beat the station.
More wandering, more exhaustion. London distances were no joke. When he finally found it, his legs ached. The room was small but clean, a studio with essentials. James dropped his bag onto the bed and fell back, arms spread.
“I’m in London!” he said aloud.
He called his mother, told her he’d arrived, settled in, everything was perfect.
After resting, he wandered out again, now feeling part of the city’s endless hum. He studied the grand old buildings, suddenly doubting his own work. Compared to the architects who shaped London, what was he? But then he saw the bland new towers—cookie-cutter blocks. That’s where he’d stand out. Arrogance? Maybe. But his design would be different. Recognisable.
New ideas flooded his mind. He sat on a bench, sketching notes. Lost in inspiration, he didn’t notice the dark. The park emptied. His phone died. No one around. The dormitory’s street name slipped his mind.
Then he saw her—a girl walking toward him, phone at her ear. He rushed over, grinning stupidly. She stopped, hung up, turned away.
“Wait!” James caught up. “Please, I’m lost. Just got here. My phone’s dead.”
She studied him. In the dim light, her eyes looked like deep pools. Pretty, but not a beauty—just familiar, the only comfort in this foreign place.
“Where do you need to go?”
“I don’t remember. The names here… they’re odd.”
“How’d you get here? Tube?”
“Walked.”
“So you live nearby.” She listed streets until he recognised one.
She laughed at his small-town confusion.
“Bit young to be forgetful.”
“Saw you and forgot everything.” He flushed. “No—I mean, I was just relieved.”
Checking her watch, she sighed. “I’ll walk you. Don’t want you lost again.”
Grateful, he stole glances as they walked. He liked her more with every step.
“You’re from London?”
“Born and raised. You?”
“Nowhere you’d know.”
“Here to study?”
“Work. I’m an architect.” He said it with pride, then backtracked. “Won a competition. Got hired.”
“Impressive.”
“Just one building for now.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A wedding ring glinted.
“You’re married?” His voice fell.
“Yes. Call me Emily. We’re the same age. Disappointed?” Her eyes sparkled.
“What do you do?” He changed the subject.
“I work at a publishing—”
“There’s my dorm!” he cut in.
“Great. You’re good now?” She turned to leave.
“Will I see you again?” He caught her wrist.
“You’re strange. I’m married.”
“So?”
“Just warning you. My husband’s jealous.” She pulled free.
“Give me your number. In case I get lost again?”
To his surprise, she did.
That night, staring at the cracked dorm ceiling, James couldn’t stop thinking about her. Why was she married? Had he been too late, or had she rushed?
Two days later, he called.
“Hi. It’s James—the one you saved from London’s concrete jungle.”
Her laugh was light, lovely. Her name was Emily, like his mum. A sign, he thought.
He waited in the park, pacing. When she arrived, his heart leapt. They walked, ate at a café.
“Need help getting back?” she asked, pulling out her phone.
“I’ll manage. You’re leaving?”
“Flight home. Husband’s back from a business trip.” She hailed a taxi.
They met again two days later. He called, desperate. “I’ll die if I don’t see you.” She laughed. Then it rained. They ran to his dorm.
“Not bad,” she said, touching the furniture.
He hugged her from behind, burying his face in her hair. “You smell like rain,” he rasped. “I think about you every second. Never felt like this before.” He turned her to face him.
“I’m married. Don’t—”
“There is no husband. Just you and me.”
Later, tangled in sheets, he asked why she married.
“Mum got sick. Only us two. Needed money for surgery. My professor saw me crying. Offered help. Knew he wanted more. But I didn’t care—just needed to save her. He paid. After, he proposed. Mum begged me not to, but I did. How else could I repay him?”
“You don’t love him! He bought you!”
“Stop shouting. You’re right—I don’t love him. But he’s kind. Because of him, Mum’s alive. This… can’t happen again.” She dressed quickly. “Don’t call. Don’t see me. I won’t leave him. I owe him too much.”
“You’ll live with a man you don’t love?”
“Enough. It’s my choice.” She left before he could stop her.
He raged, cursed himself, then longed for her. Weeks passed. Calls went unanswered.
Then she came to him. A knock at the door. They clung to each other like starving animals.
“I love you. I’ve been going mad,” he whispered.
“Me too,” she echoed.
She came and went. He was happy when she was there.
“Tell him about us,” James begged once.
“No. I told you—I won’t leave.”
“You can’t endure this forever.”
“I choseThey boarded the train together, hands entwined, knowing that whatever lay ahead, they would face it side by side, leaving the past behind for good.