Page 9 of A Secret Escape

I ’m standing in the empty living room, keys dangling from my fingers. Sunlight streams through the uncovered windows, painting golden rectangles across the worn hardwood floor. My floor. My walls. My space.

“I can’t believe it’s actually mine,” I whisper into the still air, turning in a slow circle.

By most standards, it’s nothing spectacular.

A one-bedroom on the fourth floor of a converted Victorian mill, with plumbing that occasionally groans and a kitchen barely big enough for a half-sized refrigerator.

But to me, after nearly two years of being crammed into a shoebox where my ‘bedroom’ was more like a closet, this modest space feels like a palace.

I walk to the window and gaze down at the quiet street below. In my own little sliver of Manchester, I can see a small grocery store with fresh fruit outside, and a corner coffee shop which reminds me of the one by the office.

My phone buzzes in my hand, snapping me back to the present. It’s a text from Angela.

Did you get the keys? Is it everything you wanted?

I snap a photo of the empty room and send it with the caption:

Home sweet home! Come round whenever!

Three dots appear immediately .

On our way! Carter’s grabbing takeaway. Be there in 20.

I slide down to sit on the floor, my back against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest.

Just a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have recognised this version of myself – the one with friends who show up, a job that means more than just a pay-check, and now, a place that’s entirely and finally my own.

I pull the small notebook from my bag where I scribble my constantly evolving list of dreams and plans, flipping through it until I find the latest entry, made about six months ago.

Things I Want:

Get my own flat

Learn to cook something more than pasta

Lead a campaign

Ask Marcus out

I smile as I put a tick next to the first item and make a mental note to buy a recipe book to work towards item 2.

I stare at the last item, tapping my pen against the page.

The thought of Marcus makes my heart flutter, even after all this time. He still smiles when he passes by me in the hallway, but I haven’t seen nearly as much of him lately as I’d like. The company’s landed a few major clients recently, so I assume he’s been buried in work.

But I still see him every Friday at the coffee shop, sometimes twice in a week if I’m lucky. Every now and then, he gets there before me and surprises me with a coffee, and every damn time, my heart feels like it’s about to burst.

Every time, I want to say something more than ‘Thanks.’ Every time, I dream about him saying ‘Fuck it’ and kissing me when we’re alone in the lift. But every time, it’s the same polite smile, the same ‘Have a good day,’ the same ‘See you later.’

But with every smile, every nod, every friendly greeting, I fall deeper and deeper.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

“It’s open,” I call, standing up.

Angela bursts through the door, her long braids flying over her shoulder, holding a bottle of champagne in each hand.

Carter follows close behind, the aroma of Thai food instantly filling the space from the two bags he’s carrying.

“Oh my God Lila!” Angela exclaims, setting the bottles on the floor and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. “It’s fucking perfect! I want to see everything!”

“There’s not much to see yet,” I laugh, but my voice is full of pride. “Bedroom’s through there, the bathroom’s still tiny but at least it’s just mine, and this is it.”

“I love it,” Angela says firmly. “It’s perfect.”

Carter sets the food down on the kitchen counter that separates the kitchen from the living area. “A hundred percent agree. It’s very you. Though it could use some furniture.”

“My entire life savings has gone on the first month’s rent and deposit, and I’ve got a mattress being delivered tomorrow. Everything else, I’m going to have to save for a little longer,” I tell them.

“Now, more importantly,” Angela says. “When’s the housewarming party?”

I hesitate. “I don’t know. Does it make sense to have a party if there isn’t even anywhere to sit?”

“Minor details,” Carter says. “We can just get some scatter cushions and sit on the floor, like they do in Japan.” He pulls out his phone and looks at it for a moment.

“How about two weeks? That gives you time to get some basics, and us time to help. You know what, don’t even answer that, it’s already done.

I’m putting together the group chat now. ”

I laugh. “Who are you adding?”

“Me, Angie, you, obviously, and Harrison,” Carter adds innocently.

“Harrison?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“He’s good with playlists,” Carter says innocently. “And didn’t you hear he’s been promoted? Last I heard, he’s been spending a lot of time around a certain Creative Director…” His voice trails off, his tone teasing as I feel a knot tighten in the pit of my stomach.

“What about Becky?” I ask, thinking to make up the numbers.

“Oh, they broke up,” Carter says, almost too quickly.

“Oh,” I say, surprised, when suddenly, a puzzle piece clicks into place in my mind.

“And you would know that…” I goad, glaring at him as his eyes stay fixed firmly on his phone.

He looks up suddenly, slides his phone in his back pocket and comes over close to us.

“Okay, fine, I’m going to say this once, and I’m going to say it quick, cuz I just told him where I am and he asked if he could stop by cuz he’s apparently nearby,” he says.

Angela and I exchange curious glances when Carter speaks in a low voice, his words rushed as though he can’t get them out quick enough.

“Harrison and I hooked up last week, and it’s weird, and I don’t know what we are, but I like him, so there.

Now you know, and if you say a single word about it, I swear to God I will kill you both in your sleep.

” He exhales a long breath as Angela and I burst out laughing.

“Good for you, babe!” Angela says, wrapping him up in a big hug.

“No, no, we’re not doing this, stop, stop, stop,” Carter says pushing her off as I laugh. “Anyways,” he goes on. “I’m inviting him, because , he could mention it to Marcus, and invite him to come, so that it’s casual.”

Angela’s eyes widen. “Yes! I love where your mind is at!”

“I don’t know –“ I say.

“Babe, Lila, sweetie -” Angela interrupts me, pulling some plastic champagne flutes out of her bag.

“You have been in love with that man since the day you met him. And look how far you’ve come since then.

You’re smashing it at work, you’ve got friends who fucking love the shit out of you, and now you’ve got your own private place, where you can invite anyone you want, anytime you want. ”

Carter nods in agreement as he pops the champagne. “ And where no roommates will walk in during a make-out session.”

“Carter!” I exclaim, my cheeks burning.

“And where a make-out session, can lead to a bedroom session, and a shower session, and who knows what else session?” Angela teases, as I turn away from her and start unpacking the food out of the bags as an excuse to get away from this conversation.

“She’s right, though,” Carter says. “This is the final piece. You’re ready, babe. Your life is coming together exactly as you planned.”

I turn to face them as he hands me the champagne. Sunlight spills across the room, and for a moment, the truth of his words sinks deep into my bones .

He’s right. This is what I’ve wanted. What I’ve been working for. And now there’s just one piece missing.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Two weeks. Small gathering.”

“And I can tell Harrison to mention it to Marcus?” Carter presses, his eyes twinkling.

I take a deep breath and nod, burying my face in my hands.

“Mention what to Marcus?” a voice comes from the doorway.

We all turn around to see Harrison leaning against the doorframe, his dark hair flopping into his eyes before he brushes it back with an easy, practiced flick.

He’s attractive in that indie kind of way – sharp cheekbones, long lashes, and a mouth that always looks like it’s on the verge of smirking.

But what really catches my attention is how he’s dressed.

Gone is the button-down-and-chinos look he wears at the office, the safe semi-polished uniform him and Carter both seem to favour Monday to Friday.

Today, he’s swapped that for a navy cardigan layered over a tight fitting black tee, and distressed grey jeans cuffed just above a big pair of Doc Marten boots, with a pair of round tortoiseshell glasses that look far too hipster to be prescription.

I glance at Carter, who looks flushed and positively giddy and I can’t help but smile. I may not know Harrison all that well, but he’s making Carter happy, and I think I like him for that alone.

“Perfect timing,” Angela says, going over to give him a hug.

He shrugs. “When Carter said where he was, I happened to be in the neighbourhood, so thought I’d drop by.” He saunters in, eyeing the space appreciatively. “Nice place, Lila. Great potential.”

“Thanks,” I smile.

“So what is it you want me to tell Marcus?” he asks, accepting the flute of champagne Carter hands him, a knowing glance between them not going unnoticed by both Angela and me as we exchange an excited giggle.

“That Lila’s having a housewarming in two weeks,” Angela says. “And that he’s invited. And you, of course.”

Harrison’s eyes light up. “Is he now? Interesting development.”

“It’s not a development,” I protest weakly. “It’s just a gathering… of friends.”

“Mmhmm,” Harrison hums with a knowing smirk. “I’ll make sure to mention it first thing Monday,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say, avoiding eye contact as I pull out a plastic fork from one of the bags and open a container, my stomach rumbling with the promise of Prawn Pad Thai.

“A toast,” Angela declares, raising her glass. “To Lila’s new flat. May it be filled with good food, great friends, and at least one handsome man in the very near future!”

“To Lila’s new flat!” Carter and Harrison echo amidst a round of laughter.

As the afternoon light shifts and the food in the cartons disappears, I stand by the window, looking out on my sliver of the city, a warm flutter stirring in my chest.

Two weeks. A small gathering.

My place. My rules. My life.

And it’s finally coming together exactly as I’d dreamed.