A Storm Is Brewing

The Move

In the months that followed the double heartbreak I'd suffered, one with Leah and one with Rhys, I'd become withdrawn from almost everything around me. I didn't answer the phone to anyone but dad or Liv, sent just the right amount of replies to Ciara to prevent her from jumping on a plane out of worry, and blocked Rhys' number to stop his pestering messages of sorrow.

I'd always been this way; when things went south, I went awol. Some said it was my worst trait, but after years of being made to feel like a burden to my mum, it was all I knew. I decided many years before Leah was in my life that I wouldn't give love another shot, but here I was in a completely different country, hoping that I'd bump into her every time I stepped outside of my own house.

Almost everyone around me had told me that the first few weeks would be the hardest; those people were wrong. The first few weeks were full of distractions: the distraction of meeting new people at the office, the distraction of unpacking my things, and the distraction of decorating my house in the way that I wanted. The hardest times came after that, when there was nothing left to distract me from her.

I'd come home from work to a perfectly decorated house, but I still felt like it was nothing more than a shell around me to keep the wind and rain out. I'd go running in the mornings, running as fast as I possibly could, only to come home and feel nothing but sadness when my breathing regulated again.

The hardest time came on the day of a court case, with the case going in the complete opposite direction than I was aiming for and my client berating me in the car park about the amount he was going to have to pay in damages. I'd driven home that night with nothing but anger fueling every part of my journey.

Maybe it wasn't just at the client.

I was angry at Rhys for causing the end of my relationship, obviously. Within me, though, lay a rage so deep that it was directed solely at Leah. It wasn't the decision she'd made or the reason behind it; it was the blocking. It was a complete dismissal of my right to express my own thoughts, feelings, and fears. Maybe I was just angry because I wanted to talk to her that night. Before I realised it, I was sitting in the car park outside her apartment block. Her car was there, so I knew she was there, but that didn't force me to get out there and then. Instead, I tried to regain some sense of control over my brain.

You're angry; this isn't the right time.

Almost to cement my thoughts, the doors of her apartment block opened, and out walked Leah, with Georgia beside her. My eyes focused on Leah alone, not even taking in what Georgia was wearing. Leah was dressed appropriately for the weather, a short-sleeved shirt on with a pair of fitted trousers, her hair falling just below her shoulders. From far away, it was impossible to see any sign of pain in her eyes, but I'd always been able to tell by her smile. It was fake. She wasn't happy either.

I don't know if you would say that the sight of her struggling made me less angry; it probably just settled my mind enough to carry on. Leah was hurting, and in some twisted way, that was enough for me to feel better about the fact that I was hurting too. I drove home, pushing the idea that Leah was going out tonight out of my head, knowing it was a dark road to go down to think of the fact that she might meet someone or have already done so.

Days turned to weeks, and the promise that people had made to me had been false; time was not the biggest healer. With each passing day came the harrowing thought that another part of Leah's memory of me would fade, and another little piece of her broken heart would be placed back together and become a work in progress for the next person.

On my twelfth week in London, I found myself on the side of the road with a puncture. People passed and then passed again, but no one stopped. No one cared about the hopeless romantic who had moved to London to follow the girl she had no chance of seeing again. I would smile at passersby, but they'd simply give me that are you insane look and then continue on their way.

Tears. Lots of them.

I locked myself back inside the car, sitting at the side of the road with my own tears landing on the grey suit I'd been wearing for work that day. I called the only person I could think of, having lost the two people I would usually call.

"Hi pet." Dad said cheerily on the phone.
"Dad." I sobbed.
"Sophie! What's wrong?"
"Dad, I hate it here. I hate it so fucking much."
"Where are you? You sound like you're outside?"
"I'm at the side of the road." I cried.
"Why?"
"Because I have a fucking puncture. I don't know where or who to call. I don't know anyone here, and I don't know anything about it. I want to come home."
"So, come home, Sophie. You have nothing to prove to anyone." He said softly.
"What about Leah?"
"Sophie, you know I love a love story, but sometimes you have to move on. Sometimes the ending isn't always happy, and you have to find a way to be happy with the ending being just that."
"I can't, dad. I can't just forget her."
"You don't have to. You can remember all of those things that you don't want to forget. You can love her from a distance until you're ready."
"What the fuck do I do to change a tyre?" I chuckled through a sob.
"First, you dry those eyes. Then you get your earphones and you put them in, and your old dad will tell you how to change it, yeah?"
"Thanks, Dad."

I'd been so sure I would move home in that moment, even packing up some of my things that weekend.

That's when I met Paula, the transfer from the Manchester office that made me feel like I wasn't completely alone in London. We began to meet up at the weekends, getting to know the etiquette in London and how to make the people who passed you on the street not immediately think you were crazy.

Paula had suffered in the same way I had, maybe not family-wise but in every other aspect. She'd been with her ex-boyfriend for almost a year before her job opportunity in London ripped them apart. He'd always told her that distance didn't matter, but when he was actually faced with the prospect of a few months of distance, he'd left her the night before she was due to move.

Many in the office had made jokes that Paula and I would end up united in heartbreak, but we both knew that wasn't true. Paula was absolutely straight, and I was absolutely too in love with Leah to even decide if I liked anyone else, knowing that even if I did, that person wouldn't be Paula.

I guess you could say I stayed in London because of her, but as much as I tried to deny it, I was still here solely on the idea of bumping into Leah.

That potential moment came during my fifteenth week in London. Paula and I had been planning a trip to the local bowling alley since the beginning of the week, getting right up until the hour before we were meant to attend before our plans fell through.

"So, I know this is a little weird, but I follow Leah on Instagram." She chuckled.
"A lot of people do."
"She's at the bowling alley. I'm happy to still go if you want to. But I didn't want it to be a surprise for you."

Every previous emotion I'd felt since moving to London suggested that I would jump at the chance of fate. Of all the times I could choose to go to a particular place, it was the night that Leah was also going to be there. I considered it, thinking about the idea that she would run into my arms when she set eyes on me, but then remembering that dad said not all love stories had the same ending.

"Do you mind if we change the plan? I'm not sure seeing her is such a good idea after all." I sighed.
"Of course not. We could get a takeaway instead? Watch a movie?" Paula smiled.
"Sounds good, P. Sorry, as usual."
"Don't be. I'm not sure I'd want to go if I knew Eddie was going to be there."

And so, I let the opportunity of fate pass me by.

The sixteenth week brought a new yearning for Leah, though. It happened to fall on the week of her mum's birthday, which was no coincidence. I'd spent most of the week thinking back to that moment when I told Amanda I'd love her forever, making me feel like I'd completely failed at that promise.

I moved here for her, but I've done absolutely nothing about actually trying to show her that.