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Amber Coxill

Ellesmere College, Shropshire

It was a classic meet-cute situation. A café on the edge of town. No free tables. He asked to sit at mine, and how could I say no to his cosmic eyes? We chatted, and, abiding by all the laws of a meet-cute, we had lots in common: both from broken families; both far from home; both pursuing our dreams. It seemed meant-to-be.
        Next Thursday was quieter, but he sat with me anyway, and we wished each other luck in upcoming job interviews. The week after, we bubbled with excitement: two strangers so proud of each other’s success.
        Sometimes, we met up on Saturdays, watched films, went to funfairs. We never missed a Thursday morning coffee. And just like our relationship, our careers were flourishing. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.
        We made a vow one Thursday – the one before our wedding – that we would always have our Thursdays, no matter what. We were naïve, but so in love, and that was enough.
        For the next few months, the stars in my husband’s eyes had never been brighter. The redundancy and the money troubles didn’t matter. And then they did.
        Two weeks before our anniversary, we missed the first Thursday, and as the year progressed we missed them more frequently. Then, one Thursday, we were signing divorce papers. Love wasn’t enough.
        Two months after the divorce, we met up again. I showed him the pregnancy test, and his galaxy eyes filled with tears. It couldn’t repair us.
        Now, our Thursday mornings are dedicated to our daughter changing hands.
        One day, she’ll have her meet-cute. And they’ll bond over being from broken families, far away from home, pursuing their dreams. Perhaps love will be enough for them.