**Happiness with a Hint of Sorrow**
Lydia, a sweet, round-faced girl with unruly curls escaping her tight braids, had been hopelessly in love with Daniel since primary school. The trouble was, he never noticed her.
Daniel was the handsomest boy in schooltall, with sharp features and an effortless charm. Older girls sighed over him, younger ones blushed in his presence, and even some of the female teachers couldnt help but glance his way. He was clever but not bookish; rumours said hed study at Oxford or Cambridge after graduation. He never denied it. There were whispers, too, of his way with girls, of hearts hed broken without a second thought. But Lydia loved him all the same.
By sixth form, shed shed her baby fat, let her hair downliterallyand grown into her delicate frame. One day, as she walked down the corridor, Daniel stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes flickered over her slender figure, long legs, and the cascade of golden hair over her shoulders. Lydias heart leapt*hes finally seen me.*
“Alright, Thompson?” he said, voice rough.
She smiled, nodded, and walked past like a queen. No matter how much she adored him, she refused to fawn. Let *him* chase *her* for once.
And chase he did. He lingered in her path, walked her home, asked her to the cinema. Lydia played it cool. Soon, the whole school noticed the way Daniel stared at hertense, electrified glances whenever they were near.
Everything changed at the Christmas ball. He danced with her, then walked her home and confessed he couldnt sleep, couldnt think of anyone else. Melting with happiness, she finally agreed to the cinema.
Lydia lived with her stern, practical mother, a single parent and accountant who warned her daily about “girls who threw themselves away.” But spring came, and so did stolen kisses, frantic touches, and one reckless afternoon when passion overpowered reason. After that, they couldnt stop.
Then school ended. Lydia planned to study teaching locally, but Daniels parents sent him to London. Desperate not to lose him, she begged her mother to let her gobut was met with a furious refusal. So she packed a suitcase, took half her mothers savings, left a note, and boarded a train. She sat in a different carriage, knowing his parents would see him off.
At first, London was a dream. They enrolled in different universities but rented a flat together. Lydia, used to fending for herself, thrived as a homemaker. When her mother called, shrieking about ungrateful daughters and ruined futures, Lydia bit back tears. Daniel was worth it.
Then she got pregnant.
The doctor warned hershe had a rare blood type; an abortion could leave her infertile. Daniel swore theyd manage. “Ill switch to part-time studies, get a job,” he promised.
“But were not married,” she whispered.
“Since when does a piece of paper matter?” he scoffed. “Well manage.”
Morning sickness left her gaunt, hollow-eyed. Still, Daniel insisted shed never been more beautiful. When his parents stormed into their flat, demanding he “drop this nonsense,” Lydia braced for the worst. But Daniel stood his ground.
“Shes keeping the baby. If she leaves, you lose me too.”
His mother clutched her chest, his father glowered, but in the end, they relentedmoney would keep coming, so long as he stayed in school and didnt marry her.
Lydia gave birth to a healthy boy, Peter. University became impossible; she took odd cleaning jobs while Daniel studied. By the time he graduated, she barely recognised the man who once worshipped her. He flinched when she mentioned marriage.
“*Again* with the paperwork? Give it a rest.”
Then came the lipstick on his shirt. The late nights. The day she saw him arm-in-arm with a willowy blonde who sneered, “*Wife?* Please. Youre not even married.”
He left that night. Lydia sobbed into her pillow, failed her exams, and faced evictionuntil Professor Whitmore, a kind, silver-haired lecturer, offered her his spare rooms. “No rent. Just cook sometimes. We can even marry, if it helpsno strings.”
She hesitated. But with no calls from Daniel, no money, no options, she moved in. Peter adored the professor, who doted on him like a grandfather. Over time, Lydia softened. London, which had once felt like exile, became home.
Then Daniel reappeared.
“Youre even lovelier,” he murmured. “That old manhes not right for you. I never stopped loving you.”
Lydia stared at him. “You didnt even glance at Peter. He left me with nothing. That old man picked up the pieces.” She turned away. That night, she went to the professors room. It wasnt lovenot like beforebut it was safe. Steady.
And sometimes, safety is enough.
