Emma
The morning light poured through the kitchen window, warm and golden, the kind of light that made everything feel softer. I sat at the table with a cup of tea, watching speckles of dust drift through the air. It had been weeks since I'd felt anything close to excitement — but today, there was a flicker of it. Nervous, small, but real.
"Ready?" Tommy's voice came from the hallway, soft, but bright, as though he knew I might still change my mind.
I turned to look at him — Mum had just let him in, his shirt sleeves rolled up, the corners of his smile cautious. Something about him made my chest loosen. I nodded, grabbing my bag.
Mum was still at the foot of the stairs, watching us, a knowing smile on her face. "You'll be brilliant, love. And Tommy —" she looked at him warmly, "— thank you for going with her."
Tommy ducked his head, his smile shy. "My pleasure."
The walk to the sixth form college wasn't far. The air was cool and smelled faintly of the sea, gulls calling in the distance. I'd expected my stomach to twist itself into knots, but somehow, walking beside Tommy, I felt steadier. He didn't talk much — just brushed his hand against mine now and then, a quiet reassurance that said I'm here. You're not alone.
When we reached the gates of the college, I froze for a moment. Students drifted in and out, laughing, chatting, some smoking. The girls wore makeup, their hair perfect, their confidence easy. I wanted to turn around, to run home and pretend I'd never agreed to come.
Tommy caught the flicker of hesitation. "Hey," he said softly, turning to face me. "We're just looking. That's all. Nothing to worry about."
I nodded, though my heart still beat too fast.
Inside, the building smelled faintly of paint and paper. The notice boards were crowded with posters about events and courses. We stopped at a door marked Admissions. A woman with glasses smiled up at us.
"Looking to enrol?" she asked kindly.
Tommy gestured toward me. "This is Emma Rivers," he said. "She's thinking about starting."
The woman's smile widened. "Wonderful. Do you have an idea of what you'd like to study?"
I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my bag strap. "Maybe… something to do with food," I said slowly.
The woman nodded approvingly. "That's a good choice. Gives you a lot of opportunities. Ever thought about what you'd like to do afterward?"
My heart fluttered. "I'd like to… learn baking. Like a professional."
Saying it aloud felt strange — fragile, but thrilling. Like naming a dream I hadn't let myself touch before.
"Well," the woman said, "I'd suggest Home Economics and Business. Then you could go to the Polytechnic in Hull and take a specialist course in baking." She got some forms out, and I took them, heart thudding.
Tommy's smile was small but radiant. "That sounds perfect," he murmured.
We spent the next hour walking through classrooms, seeing kitchens with shining worktops, stacks of recipe books, and the faint sweet smell of pastry lingering in the air. I could almost see myself there — flour on my hands, hair tied back, losing myself in something beautiful and precise.
Tommy watched me the whole time, quiet, but full of positivity. I caught his reflection once in the window — the pride in his eyes made my breath catch.
Afterwards, we sat outside on a low wall, eating sandwiches we'd picked up on the way. The wind tugged at my hair, and the sun warmed my cheeks.
"I think…" I started, staring at my shoes, "I think I want to do it. The courses, I mean."
He smiled. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," I said, the word coming out with a laugh. "It feels… right. Like I'm finally moving forward."
Tommy's smile grew bigger. "You are."
I looked up, meeting his gaze. "Thank you… for being here. For pushing me to come."
"You don't need to thank me," he said softly. "I just want to see you happy."
Something inside me shifted — gentle and warm. It felt comforting being outside with him. I reached out and took his hand in mine, my fingers fitting between his. It felt natural, like they belonged there. He squeezed gently, his thumb brushing the side of my hand. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed that simple closeness. It felt like I'd found a missing piece of myself. There were still others I needed to find — but for the first time, I believed I would.
We sat like that, quiet and content, watching the students come and go. For the first time since everything had changed, the world didn't feel like a place I needed to hide from.
Tommy
The light caught in her hair as she laughed — not loud, just a quiet, startled sound that made my chest ache in the best way. Seeing Emma smile again felt like watching the sun rise after months of rain.
When she'd told the woman about wanting to study baking, I'd nearly lost my composure. She'd said it with such shy conviction, like she was still testing if the dream could survive being spoken aloud. It could. I could see it in her eyes.
Now, sitting beside her outside the college, I let the moment sink in — the sound of her laughter, the feel of her hand in mine, the simple miracle of her being here, with me, trying.
"You'll be amazing," I said quietly.
She rolled her eyes, smiling. "You don't know that."
"I don't have to. You make everything else beautiful."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she nudged me with her shoulder, pretending to be cross, but then leaned closer. That small gesture — that trust — undid me more than anything she could have said.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through town. We stopped by the bakery where she worked and Louise handed us a couple of pastries. Then we walked the river path she liked, and finally ended up at the old church that looked out over the rooftops. Each stop felt like another piece of her world she was offering me.
When the sky began to turn gold, she looked up at me and smiled — not the careful, uncertain smile she'd worn for weeks, but something freer.
"Thank you," she whispered again.
I shook my head. "No," I said, squeezing her hand. "Thank you for letting me in."
She leaned against my shoulder, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt something like peace.
If this was what she needed to heal — quiet afternoons, small laughter, her hand in mine — then I'd spend my life doing it. Because seeing her come back to herself wasn't just her victory. It was ours.
And in that moment, with the sun setting and her laughter soft against my chest, I knew: her happiness would always be the thing that made me whole.