The Note by Zoe Folbigg: A London Love Story

Before I met my fiancé, I used to daydream about the kind of love that just found you. The kind that wasn't forced, or timed perfectly, or arranged through dating apps and awkward small talk. I used to imagine it would somehow find me in the middle of my everyday life—in a coffee queue, at a bookshop, maybe even on the Tube. And yes, that probably sounds absurd, but when you live in a city like London—where strangers brush past you a hundred times a day without ever looking up—there’s something quietly magical about the idea of two people just… colliding.

So when I first read The Note by Zoë Folbigg, I felt something shift. It was like someone had written down the very thing I’d always hoped could happen: a love story that begins on a packed commuter train, between two strangers, with nothing but a note and a whole lot of nerve.

Let me paint the picture: it’s your standard London rush hour. The kind where the Tube is rammed so tightly you can feel someone else’s breath on your neck and someone's backpack in your ribs. Everyone’s headphones are in, eyes down, coffee half-spilled, moods set to “don’t talk to me.” It’s the unspoken social contract we all sign when we choose to live here.

Enter Maya Flowers—a woman who not only dares to make eye contact on the train but actually writes a note to a man she’s never spoken to. A man she sees every day on her commute, always reading, always quiet, always intriguing. She calls him “Train Man.” (Come on. That’s already adorable.)

In any other place, this wouldn’t be such a big deal. But in London? Giving a note to a stranger on the Tube? That’s basically a full-blown act of rebellion. It's bold. It’s chaotic. It’s practically illegal.

And yet, she does it anyway.

As a Londoner, I was cringing and grinning through the whole scene. I could feel the awkward tension. The horror. The thrill. That heart-pounding, sweaty-palmed moment when Maya stretches out her hand with the note clutched tightly, hoping maybe he’ll take it, maybe he’ll read it, maybe this small, brave gesture will mean something.

There’s something so quietly profound in that single moment. Because if you’ve ever lived in this city, you’ll know how easy it is to disappear here. To become just another anonymous face in a sea of millions. We cross paths with strangers every day—at cafés, on the Tube, in queues, on rainy streets—and most of the time, we don’t even realise how close we came to someone who might’ve changed everything.

That’s what The Note captures so beautifully: the dizzy hopefulness of what if.

What if you looked up?What if you said something?What if, just once, you did break the rules?

Maya is the kind of heroine I adore. She’s romantic but not delusional, brave but still endearingly awkward. She’s in a bit of a rut—who isn’t?—but still has this spark of belief that maybe love is out there, somewhere, if you just have the courage to reach for it. She’s funny, flawed, and wildly relatable. I felt like I knew her.

And “Train Man”? Let’s just say, he’s no cardboard cutout romantic lead either. There’s depth, there’s gentleness, and there’s a real sense of mystery that makes the whole journey—both literal and emotional—feel so worth following. You’re rooting for them not just because it’s romantic, but because it feels possible. The kind of love that grows in small, quiet moments. Between the silence. In the chaos of the everyday.

What makes this book even more special is that it’s inspired by a true story. Zoë Folbigg actually did write a note to a man on her commute. And reader? She married him. I know. It’s giving “main character energy” in the most dreamy, London-girl way.

When I first read The Note, I hadn’t met my fiancé yet. I was still on the Central line, staring longingly at people’s book covers and wondering if one day, someone might glance back. I’d sit there and imagine what would happen if I just… did something brave. Of course, I never handed anyone a note (I thought about it), but reading Maya’s story gave me a little spark of something I hadn’t felt in a while: hope.

Now? My fiancé and I joke about it all the time. He’s more of a bus guy than a Tube guy, but still—we have that same energy. That “you might’ve been just another stranger, but somehow, the universe had other plans” feeling. We even have matching keyrings that say, “You’re the Rory to my Lorelai” (and vice versa, obviously), and every time I see them, I think about how easy it is to miss each other in a big city—but how magical it is when you don’t.

Because love in London? It’s not always cinematic. Most of the time it’s found in small, brave moments. A shared glance. A silly note. A decision to look up instead of down.

And The Note is exactly that: a reminder to be bold. To take chances. To believe that, yes—even in the rush hour grind, even in this fast, faceless city—love can still find you, exactly where you are.

So here’s to Maya. To Train Man. To the hope tucked into every packed carriage and busy street corner. And to anyone who’s ever dared to dream that the stranger on the Tube might just be something more.