Olivia, don’t rush into marriage. Happiness won’t run away—her grandmother’s voice echoed in her heart.
Olivia woke at dawn, not just to get ready for work but to make Edward’s favourite pancakes. She glanced at her sleeping fiancé, yawned, then quietly smiled and tiptoed to the kitchen. As she flipped the first batch, Edward shuffled in, rubbing his eyes. She set a plate of golden pancakes before him with a dollop of cream and a sprinkle of sugar, turning back to cook the rest.
After a few bites, Edward spoke up.
“Listen, Liv, we’ve got enough saved for a holiday. But maybe we should be smart about it? I want to buy a car. Might need a loan, but it’s more useful. We’ll get to the seaside another time.”
The savings weren’t shared—Olivia had scraped them together herself. Edward had been stashing his pay for a new flat, refusing to live in the cosy London flat she’d inherited from her grandmother. Still, his reasoning sounded practical, so she sighed and nodded.
Before she could say another word, the doorbell rang. She asked Edward to watch the pancakes and went to answer. There stood his mother, Margaret, and behind her, his younger brother, James, lugging a massive suitcase.
“I spoke with Eddie yesterday,” Margaret said, toeing off her shoes and bustling inside. “James is moving in. He’s got into uni—takes forty minutes from ours, but just ten from here. No kids yet, and let’s hope you’re not in a hurry to change that.”
“Mum, why so early? I’m still eating,” Edward grumbled, helping his brother haul the bags in.
Olivia froze. The smell of burning snapped her back—Edward had let the pancakes scorch. She dashed to the stove, turning off the gas. His family piled into the kitchen after her.
“Goodness, Olivia, trying to burn the place down? Pay attention!” Margaret tutted, scooping the blackened pancakes onto her plate.
“I was answering the door,” Olivia muttered.
“About the car—I agree with Eddie. A holiday? You can stay at our cottage. Plus, Emily’s husband’s selling his car—practically new! He’ll give you a fair price.”
Olivia knew from Edward that his sister Emily’s husband had overpriced the car for a year. But before she could argue, Edward whined about unlocking her grandmother’s room, sealed since her passing.
“We’ll set up the sofa bed for James, and the armchair should go to the cottage,” he added.
Her grandmother had died two months ago. She’d raised Olivia after her mother remarried and left her behind. Olivia hadn’t expected her to go so soon. Edward had comforted her, and wedding plans—though reluctant—had dulled the grief. But forgetting her grandmother was impossible. She’d kept the room untouched, only slipping in sometimes to sit in silence and remember.
Now, she stepped inside, shut the door, and collapsed into the armchair, sobbing into her hands. His family had pushed her too far. Then warmth spread through her, as if her grandmother’s hand rested on her shoulder, whispering, *Olivia, don’t rush into marriage. Happiness won’t run away.* Grandmother’s old advice, always steering her right. But without her, no one was left to remind her.
Five minutes later, Olivia wiped her tears. She called work, moving her holiday forward by two weeks. The racket from the kitchen muffled her voice. Next, she rang her travel-agent friend, who found a last-minute deal—flight that evening.
Quietly, she dressed, grabbed her savings and suitcase, and slipped out. At the agency, she confirmed the booking, then texted Edward: *It’s over. No wedding. Kate will collect the keys—don’t drag your feet. Goodbye.*
She rang her neighbour Kate, asking her to fetch the keys in an hour, praying Edward wouldn’t call. Then she turned off her phone and headed to the airport. For the first time in ages, she felt free.