**Different Shades of Happiness**
I was brushing my teeth when the phone rang. Rinsing my mouth quickly, I hurried to the hallway. The phone lay on the side table, vibrating dangerously close to the edge.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Are you the lash technician?” asked a young woman’s voice, firm and impatient.
“Yes,” I replied cautiously.
“I need my lashes done today. It’s a matter of life and death.” Her tone brooked no argument. “Do you do home visits?”
“I do. Send me the address, and I’ll check my schedule and call you back.”
While she typed the message, I finished brushing. A ping—the text arrived. I read the street name. The other side of London! And my next appointment was in two hours. I wouldn’t make it—the journey alone would eat up too much time.
“Sorry, I can’t right now,” I admitted when I called her back. “My next client is in two hours, and I don’t drive.”
“Cancel them. I’ll pay double—you won’t lose out,” she insisted, calm but relentless.
I always tried to help. One client, double the pay. While waiting for the taxi, I rang my other client.
“Actually, I was about to call you,” the woman said. “I don’t have time today. I’ll reschedule, alright?”
Relief washed over me. Things were falling into place.
The taxi driver knew the city well, weaving through traffic effortlessly. Fifteen minutes later, I stood outside a sleek modern building, ringing the buzzer.
I’d always dreamed of living somewhere like this—wide staircases, spacious landings, a silent lift. Everything here whispered wealth. Ordinary people like me didn’t belong.
My husband, our five-year-old son, and I lived in a tiny flat in an ageing council block. Built decades ago, it was never about comfort—just cramming in as many people as possible. No lift meant hauling the pram upstairs daily, sometimes multiple times. No bike storage, no secure doors.
Stepping inside, I was dazzled by the bright, pristine lobby. Back home, the bulb was dim, often broken, leaving us to fumble in the dark. The silent lift carried me to the fourteenth floor. Every door was solid, elegant—not peeling faux leather stuffed with lumpy padding like ours.
*I’d be happy living here*, I thought.
I pressed the bell, hearing a chime straight out of a film. The door opened to a stunning woman in a crimson silk robe.
“Come in,” she smirked, noting my awe. “Well, hello. Didn’t expect to see you. Weren’t you at uni? Or am I mixing you up?”
I froze mid-step, staring.
“Don’t recognise me? Time changes everything—except you, apparently.”
“Victoria?” I ventured.
“Who else? So, how’d you end up like this?”
“Like what? I graduated, got married. Three years ago, my husband had an accident—long recovery. Thought he’d never walk again. Thank God he did. Needed money, so I trained in lashes. He’s working now, wants me to quit, but… I’m used to it.” She frowned, unimpressed.
This chat was wearing thin.
“I’m on a tight schedule,” I reminded her.
“Right, let’s get started.” She led me to a chaise longue. “Comfy here?”
“Perfect.” I prepped her lashes, removing her makeup.
“Sorry, forgot to wash it off. Always like to be ready. You don’t wear any? Shame. You’ve got good bone structure.”
“Why bother?” I said, genuinely puzzled. “Stay still—don’t want to poke your eye.”
Between school runs, cleaning, and cooking, glamour wasn’t a priority. My husband didn’t mind.
“You have a child?” she pressed.
“A son. Just turned five. Starting to read.” I brightened—but her bored fidgeting cut me short.
Awkward silence. She broke it.
“My lover’s visiting tomorrow,” she announced. “Need to look perfect.”
*She already does*, I thought. Flawless skin, expensive perfume. Next to her, I felt plain.
“Was married once. Three whole months,” she scoffed. “Enough for a lifetime.”
Another pause. I worked meticulously, lash by lash.
“Now I’m free—and in love. You should see him. Dream man. Spares no expense—bought me this flat. If he dumps me, at least I keep the place.” She wriggled restlessly. “He’s married, obviously. Told me upfront. Kids too. Says he’ll never leave her. But I’m terrified of being alone again.”
Her phone rang. She gestured urgently. “Pass it—on the table behind you.”
I handed it over, glimpsing the caller ID—a handsome man’s face.
“Yes, darling… Miss you terribly…” Her smile faded as she listened. “You can’t? Fine. Promise you’ll come next weekend?” Her voice cracked. She hung up, deflated.
“Pointless now. How much longer?” she snapped.
Post-call, she’d lost interest in her lashes—and me. No need to impress if he wasn’t coming. She rushed me, regretting her confessions.
“Nearly done.” I handed her the mirror. Her eyes lit up briefly, then dulled.
“Thanks.” She left, returning with a wad of £50 notes.
“This is too much—”
“Bonus for listening. Take it.”
I obeyed, packed up, and left.
Stepping outside, the warm air hit me. My back ached from hunching. *Maybe now we can afford that seaside trip*, I thought, spirits lifting. Still early for school pickup. I pondered dinner ideas.
At home, I sang while frying steak. The key turned—my husband was back.
“You tired?” I asked, noticing his limp.
“A bit. Rain’s coming.”
“Come to the kitchen—got news!” He followed.
“You first,” I urged.
His grim expression worried me. I sat carefully, as if the chair might collapse.
“Nadia, you’ve done so much for me,” he began.
“Rom, I love you. No debts between us.”
“Let me finish.” He grew even graver. “You worked yourself ragged…”
*He’s leaving me*, I thought, heart pounding.
“You need a break. I’ve booked us a holiday. We leave for the coast in two weeks.”
It took a moment to sink in. I gaped.
“I thought you were going to say… Never mind. Today, my old classmate overpaid me. We’ll need the money, right?” He nodded—uncharacteristically silent about me quitting.
That night, I dreamt of meeting him at the airport. I wore a red silk robe, lashes fluttering. Passengers streamed past—no sign of him. Then a man in a white suit approached, looking like Hugh Grant. *What about Rom?* I wondered. He kissed my hand—a searing touch—and I woke up.
Two days later, as I prepped for another client, Victoria called.
“Can you come now?” Her voice wavered.
“What’s wrong? Lashes falling off?”
“No. Just come. Now.” She hung up.
I cancelled my appointment, baffled. When she opened the door, she was unrecognisable—puffy-eyed, tear-streaked.
“Take them off,” she demanded.
“What?”
“My lashes. Now!” She flailed, frantic.
“But they’re perfect—”
“Do it!”
I obeyed, unpacking my kit.
“He left me! Called to say it’s over. Too cowardly to face me. Said he loved me—lies! What if I jump out the window?”
“Don’t say that!”
“I won’t. I’m pregnant. And he’ll never know.”
I hugged her, murmuring comfort.
“You knew it wouldn’t last. You’ll have a beautiful baby. You’ll manage…”
Privately, I thought: even the rich and beautiful ache. My ordinary Rom was better than any film star—because he was mine. Soon, we’d see the sea…
*Happiness is when everything’s where it belongs.*