Where the Road Bends

Chapter 5

The Cornish coast, with its windswept cliffs and charming villages, receded in the rearview mirror just as quickly as it had filled their weekend. Before they could unpack the lingering scent of sea salt and fish and chips, London had them wrapped back in its bustling embrace.

This particular Thursday morning found William shadowing Danny on a peculiar mission – a pilgrimage to a particularly dazzling jewelry store on Bond Street. Apparently, a grand gesture involving a sparkly token and a question was brewing for Julia. The thought turned William's stomach sourer than week-old pasties. 

Supportive he must be, of course. Danny had, after all, regaled him for weeks with sonnets of Julia's perfection and his undying love. William, bless his lovelorn heart, didn't need the reminder. He was painfully aware of Julia's brilliance. It felt like Danny was parading a prize catch, a feeling akin to watching someone dangle a particularly magnificent kipper in front of a starving cat. William, you see, was that very cat. Green with envy, though Danny, oblivious to his silent struggle, had every right to boast.

Exiting the jewelry store, Danny cast a sheepish glance at William. "Right, terribly sorry, mate," he mumbled, the guilt evident in his voice. "Dragging you around on all my errands on your birthday. Beastly selfish of me, really."

William, ever the stoic Brit, shrugged nonchalantly. "Birthday? Feels like any other Thursday to me," he replied, a hint of dry humor lacing his voice.

Birthdays, William mused with the enthusiasm of a slug encountering salt, were a particularly morbid affair. His parents, exemplars of stiff-upper-lip British stoicism, had never quite grasped the concept of birthday cheer. Not that William craved fanfare, but a card that wasn't addressed "To William" (followed by a question mark) would have been nice.

Thankfully, the past few years had seen a drastic improvement in the birthday department, courtesy of Julia. She approached the occasion with the zeal of a Victorian Christmas enthusiast, orchestrating elaborate outings for the three of them. His personal favorite remained the year when Danny, bless his interning soul, was whisked away for some "essential" interview (wink, wink, nudge, nudge from his ever-helpful father). Not wanting William to miss out (a genuinely good egg, that Danny), he insisted they go forth on their pre-planned adventure without him. 

The day had been a whirlwind of "pretentious" outings culminating in a restaurant where Julia, with her uncanny knack, ordered the most bizarre dishes. They wouldn't look appealing on a ransom note, yet somehow arrived looking like edible masterpieces. Watching her eat was a performance art in itself. Every bite was a symphony of joy, a contagious rapture that made William swear he could almost taste the food himself. How she stayed so slender was a mystery for the ages.

For that singular day, she was his. Not in the romantic sense, perhaps, but wholly present. The most important part of the day wasn't the food or the outings – it was the stolen moments between the "sketchy" activities, the laughter-filled gaps between courses. It was during one such moment, a realization dawned on William with the force of a rogue birthday balloon: he loved Julia. Not in the birthday-card-and-chocolates way, but with a fierceness that surprised even him. It was a love born not of grand gestures but of quiet moments, shared laughter, and a woman who could find joy in the most unexpected places – even on his least favorite day of the year.

"Come on, Will," Danny nudged him with a playful elbow, "you're only twenty-four! Not shuffling off to the glue factory just yet."

William, ever the master of morbid wit, shot him a deadpan stare.  "Twenty-four, eh? Practically on death's door, wouldn't you say? One birthday closer to the big sleep and all that jazz.”

Danny chuckled, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Don't be a sourpuss. Tell you what, to celebrate your not-quite-deathday, let's grab a pint at The Rusty Nail. My treat.”

The Rusty Nail, William's preferred haven for post-work commiseration, beckoned them with its usual warm glow. Stepping through the door, however, William blinked in confusion. A gaggle of faces, each one etched with a mischievous grin and a suspicious familiarity, stared back at him. Then, the penny dropped. Above the bar, a banner hung proudly, emblazoned with the words "Happy Birthday William" followed by a decidedly unflattering (but undeniably Julia-esque) jab about his advancing age.

Surprise parties were not William's forte, but this one, orchestrated by the ever-effervescent Julia, held a certain charm.

"Happy Birthday, darling!" she chirped, sweeping in with a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek.

Danny, the alleged accomplice, offered a mock salute. "Absolutely dreadful job keeping him distracted, Jules. Dreadful.”

William, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, met Julia's gaze. "Perfect," he murmured, the simple word holding a world of gratitude.  Here, surrounded by loved ones (and a few carefully chosen insults), his birthday, once a day of quiet contemplation, had become something utterly unexpected: a celebration of his life, flaws and all.

**stay tuned, the next chapter is wild! Give me your thoughts so far? Who is your favourite character? Who should Julia pick?**