The pub had that familiar hum — low voices, clinks of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from the far end where a group from HR had clearly started early. It was just gone six, and the five of them had spilt out from the office after a particularly dry client call that had dragged into late afternoon. A drink was more than earned — it was a requirement. Alex was already at the bar, the curve of his shoulders re...

Alex was lying on her bed again—not by accident or invitation, but because Jenny had guided him there like she had everything else: quiet, confident, certain. His shirt lay forgotten on the floor, his trousers halfway undone, and still, he looked like he wasn’t sure if he’d earned his place. Jenny stood at the foot of the bed, wine glass in hand, silhouetted by the soft amber light. She wasn’t naked — not yet. That was to...

The morning after I'm back in the real world already,? she thought, a flicker of disappointment passing through her. She pulled the sheet around herself and sat there momentarily, unsure how she felt. There was no note, no text, just… gone. But then, her phone buzzed on the bedside table as if on cue. Alex: Had to grab a clean shirt and coffee before the office. Didn’t want to wake you — you looked too good asleep. But I’...

By late Friday afternoon, the office had thinned, tension softened by the promise of two days free of meetings, reports, and fluorescent lights. Someone had floated the idea of “a quick one” at the pub — the same one as always, two streets away, like a ritual. Jenny hadn’t confirmed. Neither had Alex. But Carole had been quick to suggest it out loud. “I could murder a gin and tonic,” she said, stretching theatrically as s...

The registry office was small, tucked between a solicitor's and a florist in Kensington. There were no flowers, no aisle. Just Jenny, in a cream wrap dress, and Alex, in a simple navy suit, standing before a registrar and a couple of required witnesses — one from HR, one from accounts. Jenny held his hand with steady fingers. She didn’t need fireworks or violins. Just him. "Do you, Jennifer Louise Martin, take Alexander J...