The halls of the school were quiet now that the last of the students had filtered out with the final bell. I sat at my desk as the afternoon sunlight spilt through the windows over the stack of history exams I was marking. Not exactly thrilling work, but there was comfort in the routine.
I leaned back in my chair, stretched, and let my gaze drift to the window. The view never changed here. The school's manicured lawns, the trees lining the grounds, and just beyond that, the rooftops of Tunbridge Wells. Life moved at its own pace here. Predictable. Familiar. And for the most part, I liked it that way.
The buzz of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen to find a text from Eli:It's over. Again.
I sighed and set the phone down without replying. This wasn't the first time I'd gotten that kind of message from him. Probably wouldn't be the last, either. The pattern was always the same. He'd fall into something that burned bright for a while, and then it fizzled out. Even through a text, I could tell it left him restless, frustrated, and chasing something else to fill the void.
I slid on my glasses and glanced at the stack of papers still waiting for feedback, but my mind had already left the room. Eli and I hadn't seen each other in person in over a year.Even from a distance, though, he was never far from my thoughts.
When that happened, it was easier to focus on the mundane. School routines, essays, my students, structure. Because when I let my thoughts linger too long on Eli, an old ache crept in. The kind that came from years of wanting something I couldn't have.
I glanced back at my phone, that familiar tug of concern pulling at me. It always hit when he messaged like this. I wanted to be there for him. I always had. But whatever he was chasing in those relationships, it wasn't anything he'd ever look for in me.
I typed out a quick reply:Sorry to hear that. You doing okay?
The message lingered on the screen as I hesitated. Was it even my place to ask that? To check in so casually when he kept chasing things that never lasted?
I shook my head and hit send. Too late to overthink it now.
I packed up my things and slipped into the hallway. The routine of locking up helped to ease the restlessness in my mind. The rest of the exams could wait. I wasn't much for going out, but today, I needed a break from the silence of the classroom.
The café down the street had become my usual escape – a place where I could retreat to a corner table and work without feeling entirely alone. As I stepped inside, the low buzz of conversation wrapped around me. I made my way to my usual seat by the window as the smell of fresh coffee began to settle my nerves.
I pulled out my notebook and flipped through pages of half-finished lesson plans. The Year 9 kids would be covering World War II next week, and I still had to finalise the last unit for the year.
I wasn't alone for long, though.
"Mind if I join you?"
I looked up to see Marcus already halfway to sitting across from me, coffee in hand, his usual easy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You never wait for the answer," I said, but the edge of a smile gave me away.
He shrugged. "You've never told me no." His gaze drifted toward my notebook. "Still conquering the lesson plans?"
"Trying to." I flipped the page like it might magically produce a finished outline. "Year 9 starts the war next week."
Marcus winced. "Yikes. Hope you've got snacks lined up. Nothing says engagement like war crimes and rationing."
I huffed a quiet laugh. "Maybe I'll bribe them with some Jammie Dodgers."
He leaned back with his coffee. "I should try that at the office. Old bird came in today panicking about her retirement account. She wanted to pull everything out and put it into property because of a podcast her son made her listen to. I told her unless she's planning to flip a three-bed semi by Friday, maybe don't."
I raised a brow. "People really come to you with that stuff?"
"Daily. You've got kids and exam stress. I've got adults and conspiracy theories."
The conversation drifted from there, weaving through books, local politics, Marcus's horror at the price of oat milk, and eventually, my disastrous attempt last weekend to assemble a flat-pack cupboard. He laughed when I described the leaning tower of chipboard that now sat in my kitchen.
He nudged the corner of my notebook with his finger. "Next time, just let me help you. You're good at brainy things, but your DIY skills are clearly a cry for help."
"I'm notthatbad." Even as I protested, though, I foughtback a smile as an image of the lopsided piece of furniture flashed through my mind.
He reached over to fix the collar of my shirt. "You are. But it's charming." His thumb brushed my jaw before his hand dropped away. It was a small thing, but it stuck with me.
At some point, I realised I hadn't touched my coffee. It had gone cold, forgotten in the middle of the conversation. Outside, the light slanted to cast long shadows across the café floor. I hadn't noticed how much time had passed until the background noise softened and the after-work crowd started to thin out.
And somewhere in that time, the knot that had taken root in my chest finally started to loosen. Enough that I wasn't still caught up in Eli's message or the heaviness that came with it.
Marcus glanced at his watch with a small grin. "Didn't even notice the time. Guess that was more interesting than those Year 9 plans."
