As the doors slide open, I step onto the platform and feel it, the quiet, unmistakable weight of home settling into my chest.
It’s been too long.
I close my eyes for a moment and draw in a slow, deep breath. There it is, that scent I didn’t realize I’d missed so much. Grass, river water, and summer heat. It only exists here.
London is brilliant, Paris was magic, but Stratford-upon-Avon has something neither of them can offer. It’s not just history or beauty or culture. It’s where my story began.
It’s where I learned to play. Where I first stood on a stage.
It’s also Shakespeare’s birthplace, which gives the town an odd sense of gravity, even if the locals try to act like it’s no big deal.
The place hums with art, festivals, concerts, poetry readings, the constant buzz of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and its neighbours. Creativity hangs in the air like blossoms in spring.
Growing up here, falling in love with theatre was inevitable. Like gravity.
I pull my suitcase through the slow-moving clusters of tourists, weaving past flowerbeds and timber-framed buildings as I make my way toward the river. The path by the water is the fastest route to Waterfront, the quiet little neighbourhood where I grew up.
People pause to admire the historic houses, the postcard gardens, the immaculate Tudor facades. I’ve passed them a thousand times, but today, something shifts.
I look around with fresh eyes.
And out of nowhere, I picture Remi walking beside me.
Tall, thoughtful, curious. Asking about the architecture. Rolling his eyes at the crowds. Pretending he doesn’t care, while secretly loving every bit of it.
God, I’d love to show him this place.
And then, buzz. My phone vibrates.
It’s him.
We’ve only been apart a few hours, and I already miss him. The thought is terrifying… and yet, completely true.
I open the message, and melt.
It’s a photo. A bottle of black Chanel nail polish, tied with a sleek little ribbon, and left on the counter back at the flat. Thoughtful. Stylish. So Remi.
There’s a voice note attached. I tap play.
REMI (Voice Note):
Hey, baby. Thought I’d leave you a little something for when you get back. I noticed you haven’t worn it in a while, and I figured maybe you ran out. I’d love to see it on you again. It really suits you. Maybe paired with that other thing you had on last night…? Ahem, okay, okay, I’ll stop. I can already picture the face you’re making. How was the trip? Are you there yet?
I’m heading to the gym now, then grabbing lunch with that stubborn idiot Francis. Call me anytime, okay? Otherwise, I’ll talk to you tonight… Fine. The truth is, you just left and I already don’t know what to do with myself.
I can’t stop smiling. Floating, really, as I weave through the crowd.
That’s so Remi. A little cocky, a little too honest, far toocharming for his own good, but underneath it all, he’s thoughtful. So deeply, disarmingly kind.
The nail polish isn’t just a gift. It’s him telling me he sees me. All of me. And he still wants me, exactly as I am.
No one’s ever made me feel that before.
I glance around as I walk. Couples holding hands. Kids darting between benches. Laughter echoing from somewhere nearby.
And for the first time, I let myself imagine that kind of future. Something real. Someone to come home to. Someone to love who loves me back.
It’s not much to ask. But until now… it never felt possible.
