Forever.

Dust churned in the rays of sunlight that pierced the bay window. Jamie picked up the most recent of her three mugs and swirled the inch of cold coffee left at the bottom. She tipped the remains back and swallowed with a grimace.

She checked her watch - 3.35pm. Glancing around she could see that more and more of the mismatched leather armchairs were empty. Sunday closing time was nearing. A waitress looked across, her hands balancing an array of floral tea cups and chintz plates. She willed Jamie to leave with her tired eyes, but Jamie had no desire to face the cold walk back to her empty apartment.

A draft swept in as the little bell chimed.

“Can I get a decaffeinated Earl Grey with soya milk please?” asked a familiar voice, warm and deep.

“To stay or take out?”

“Take away please.”

Jamie felt her stomach drop. From behind the huge leather arm chair, she peeked at the awaiting customer. David stood intently watching the barista make his drink. He wore blue jeans, unusual for him, with a white shirt, a black V-neck jumper and a fitted blazer.

Always dress to impress.

Jamie swivelled in her seat to look at her own outfit. She covered the toothpaste stain on the right leg of her jeans with her long woollen jumper and slipped her feet back into her trainers to cover the hole that revealed her big toe on one foot. Better but less than ideal. She spied around the edge of the chair again - he turned and, before she could hide, looked straight across at her.

“Jamie!”

She raised a limp hand and waved. He stared back, waiting for her to respond most likely, but she was speechless beneath her burning cheeks. He walked closer and still no words came.

Like always, he was clean shaven, highlighting the striking contrast between his pale skin and dark eyes. His eyes were almost black, with just a few flecks of green that caught in the afternoon sunlight.

“Decaf Earl Grey with soya milk,” came the raised voice of the barista.

David strode back to the counter to collect his drink and paid with a hasty ‘thank you.’

Jamie faced the window again. She ran her fingers through her wavy hair a few times, attempting to restrain the wild strands. She snatched her open book from the coffee table, a trashy romance novel, and shoved it into her open bag.

“May I sit?” David’s voice startled her. He looked at the armchair opposite, covered by Jamie’s damp coat and a couple of Lidl bags. “Is someone with you?”

She grabbed the discarded items. “Oh no, those are all mine - feel free.”

He sat on the edge of the chair, avoiding contact with the mass of cushions.

“How have you been?”

It was such a simple question. The last three years flashed through Jamie’s mind like a slideshow of misery - the agoraphobia, the therapy and her new dead-end job. His eyes never left her face, and she looked away uneasily.

“Good thanks. How have you been keeping?”

“Very well. Busy, busy as always!”

Silence filled the gap between them, a silence that held all the memories they once shared.

“So, what brings you to this part of town?” she managed to force out.

“House hunting mainly; I’ve just been to visit a potential property on Gledhill Terrace for a second look.”

Jamie imagined their stunning house - David’s house. Beautiful views and years of refurbishment, all wasted.

Jamie cleared her throat. “I never imagined you would leave Appley.”

“I do love it, but me and Jennifer have decided now is the time to up-size, with the market as it is.”

That name was like a knife in Jamie’s gut, his relaxed tone and perfectly planned life just twists of the blade.

“Up-size?” she managed.

David halted for a moment. He never does that.

“Jennifer and I are expecting.”

Jamie smiled, nodding enthusiastically in an attempt to keep herself from screaming aloud. David didn't want kids, that had been his reasoning for ending their perfect life together, for tearing her whole world apart. She imagined pushing the table aside and throttling him to death. She imagined smacking his handsome head against the wall repeatedly. She imagined stabbing herself in the femoral artery with the tiny cake fork sat before her, and screaming 'This is your fault!'

"That's wonderful," she said, smiling politely.