Alice had always dreamed of marrying well. Shed already had one failed attempt, leaving her with a twenty-year-old son, Thomas.
Years ago, her husband had been caught in an act of unforgivable betrayal. Alice had returned from a business trip a day early and found him half-dressed, hastily smoothing the sheets in their bedroom while her best friend brewed coffee in the kitchenwearing Alices dressing gown. A classic betrayal. The divorce was swift. The treacherous friend was erased from her life, and Alice didnt bother with sordid details. Guilt demanded punishment. She threw her husband out, forbidding Thomas from speaking to him. Back then, Alice wasnt even thirty.
A decade passed. Alice earned her masters and then her doctorate, becoming a professor of literature at a prestigious university by forty. Respected in her field, she spent those years alone but never gave up hope of finding the right man. She wasnt ready to resign herself to knitting socks and cross-stitching just yet.
There were suitors, of course, but none ever touched her heart. One proposed immediately after their first datethen borrowed money (“Were practically family!”) and vanished. Another, a widower, wanted a mother for his three young children. He invited her over straight away, asking her to cook dinner for his brood. Alice obliged, feeding the little ones before returning home in tears. She pitied themand their father, who seemed lost himselfbut couldnt bear the weight of his responsibilities. “Maybe Im selfish,” she told herself.
As years slipped by, prospects dwindled. Just as Alice was ready to abandon hope entirely, *he* appeared.
Walid, a former student from Algeria. At twenty-eight, hed once studied under Alice before settling in London to open a small business. They bumped into each other at a petrol stationhis, as it turned out. They reminisced about university, laughing over old memories. He gave her his card, and soon Alice found herself stopping by weekly, filling her car under the guise of convenience. Walid began courting herdinners, symphony concertsbut Alice hesitated. She remembered him as a diligent student, effortlessly charming, fluent in English. The girls at university had sighed when he walked past.
Once, during his studies, hed given her a carved wooden box with a note inside. Alice had flushed, then paled, tearing it to shreds. *Professor Alice, I love you!* Shed shoved the box back at him and fled, certain it was mockery. The next day, he apologised, and she dismissed him with an awkward, “Go to your lecture, Walid.”
Now, history repeated itself. Alice wavered. “Were just a man and a woman now. What harm could come of it?”
She surrendered to fate.
Their whirlwind romance began. Walid was tender, witty, romanticunlike anyone shed known. Age didnt matter. With him, she felt like a carefree girl again, while he carried himself with quiet maturity. She playfully anglicised his name to “Walter,” and he called her “Ayla.” Alice was euphoric, cherished in a way shed never felt before.
But Walter never proposed. He was bound for Algeria, his family having chosen a bridea seventeen-year-old named Hadia. Alice couldnt leave England, not with Thomas and her mother relying on her. Nor would Walters family accept a foreign woman twice his age. Better a crust of bread at home than a feast elsewhere, she reasoned.
She poured all her love into their time together. “How much happiness do I have left? Scraps. Ill love him so fiercely hell gasp for air!” she confessed to her mother.
Her mother was appalled. “Alyson! Why this foreigner? Arent there enough Walters here? And your exhes been begging for forgiveness for *ten years*! Youve a son together. Forgive him!”
“Mum, David *cheated*!” Alice snapped.
“God above, hes repented a hundred times! And you werent blamelessburied in your studies, neglecting him. A man left alone is easy prey.”
“Why didnt *you* forgive Dad, then?” Alice shot back.
“Dont compare them! Your father left before you were born, sired three children elsewhere, then waltzed back. Could I take him from those three? No! But your Davids waited, loyal all these years. Thomas adores him.”
Alice sighed. “Im not marrying Walter. Im too old for him. Ill let him leave me first.”
Her mother shook her head. “Even an old mare finds a bite of clover sweet…”
Three years later, Walter said goodbye. “Ill always love you,” he whispered, pressing that same carved box into her hands. Inside lay a ringtwo angels cradling a diamond heart. “My heart stays with you, Ayla.”
He flew home.
A year later, a wedding photo arrived: *My wife, Hadia.* Another year, another*My second wife, Mariam.* Polygamy was legal there, he explained. Alice felt no jealousy. What did fleeting young love know of the fire theyd shared? His solemn gaze in the photos comforted her. Perhaps he still missed her.
The fairy tale ended. Thomas married, and when his daughter was born, Alice asked them to name her Aylaa small tribute to a love that had burned brightly.
In time, she forgave David. Her mothers words rang true: “Who among us is sinless? Temptation walks among us all.”
They reunited, determined never to part again. Alice even took up knitting, crafting tiny socks adorned with Algerian patterns for her granddaughter.
Sometimes, love lingers in the most unexpected ways.
