“I’m so sorry, Aida.”
“Are you sure it’s them?” Aida asked, though she knew Yumi would never make such an accusation without being sure.
“Yeah, I took a video. But...”
“Send it, please.” Aida knew she would regret it, but she had to see for herself. She ended the call, her fingers trembling as she lowered the phone. Her mind raced back over the last two months, a time spent immersed in cataloging—rather ironically—happiness, all the while a subtle tension brewed between her and Graham. From a distance, she’d felt him grow increasingly resentful of her time in Italy, a sentiment that seemed to shadow their conversations. In response, Aida had redoubled her efforts to show him how much she missed him, sending thoughtful messages and arranging video calls at hours that better suited his schedule. He reciprocated with loving, familiar words, yet carried a tone that didn’t quite fall right. It was a dissonance she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.
A minute later, the phone chimed. Aida opened the message to find a video that stole her breath away: Graham and Erin in a booth, unmistakably together, lips locked in an embarrassing public display of affection against the backdrop of the crowded bar. It was like a physical blow, confirming her unspoken fears. Resisting the urge to hurl her phone into the river below, she watched it again, to be sure, she told herself, although she knew the image didn’t lie. She wasn’t sure whose betrayal was worse—her fiancé’s or her childhood friend’s. She was so stunned she couldn’t even cry.
Her phone buzzed again. Yumi.
“What are you going to do?” she asked as soon as her face appeared on the screen.
“He’s still there, right? Well, I’m going to call him.” She hadn’t known what she planned to do until the words were out of her mouth.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Very,” Aida said, anger firming her resolve.
“Oh my. Okay. Then call me back.”
Aida nodded and ended the call. Before she lost her nerve, she hit the picture of Graham’s face in her recent calls and waited for him to answer.
He didn’t.
She hung up and called again. No answer. She tried once more, her patience fraying. This time Graham answered, but not with video, just voice, which was unusual for him. “Hi, Aida, is everything okay? It’s a bit loud here. I met Sully for lunch.”
“Sully? Really? Don’t you mean Erin? No, wait, don’t answer that. The wedding is off, Graham.”
She hit the button to hang up and heard him call out her name before the screen went dark. Upstream, the Tower of London stood resolute and ancient, its stones a silent witness to her private turmoil. Her fingers tightened around the cold metal of the railing. The unrelenting flow of the Thames below mirrored the chaos in her mind. Each wave seemed to pull at her, threatening to drag her down into its depths. She stepped back, almost knocking into a man walking swiftly across the bridge.
“Easy, luv,” he said kindly before continuing on his path.
Aida watched him for a moment before her attention was drawn to a sign a few steps down on the bridge.
SAMARITANS
Talk to us, we’ll listen.
Whatever you are going through, you don’t have to face it alone.
There was a number to call, of course, but what Aida found more moving were the things that Londoners had scrawled all over the sign. A heart.You are loved. One more day. Wait one more day. Your friends would rather hear your problems than go to your funeral. One day at a time, my love.
Aida was not one to consider suicide, especially over a man, but after seeing the dark swirling river patterns that seemed tomap to the despair in her heart, she could understand. She scoffed at theYou are loved, but there was something in the wordsone day at a time,one more daythat not only repeated in the sign, but also inside her, slipping into her mind like a mantra.One day at a time. One day at a time, my love.
As she crossed the bridge, a strange empty calm descended upon her, a hollow space within her heart that seemed devoid of emotion. Her gaze returned almost involuntarily to the Tower of London, a monument that had witnessed countless human dramas over its long history. Somehow, the perspective made her feel infinitesimally small yet also oddly comforted.
As she slipped into the waiting Bentley, Aida expected tears, the cathartic sort that would validate her pain. But none came. Instead, there was a yawning emptiness.I should be falling apart, she thought.Why am I not falling apart?
Ten minutes into the drive, Yumi’s face flashed up on her screen. Aida accepted the call.
“He saw me and came over to talk. Erin apparently couldn’t bear to face me, and she slinked out like a coward,” Yumi said. Her cheeks were flushed, clearly from more than just the weather.
“Oh, Yumi, are you okay?” Aida’s concern for her friend momentarily eclipsed her own heartbreak.
“I’m fine. He was just angry. He clearly didn’t expect to be caught. He told me that she had seduced him, and it was only a lapse. He wished I had tried to talk to him first.”
Aida’s hands clenched into fists. The thought of Graham lashing out at Yumi for his own betrayal ignited a fire in her that she didn’t know she had left. “And what would that have accomplished?”
