“I told you,” she said. “These things don’t last.”
Something inside me cracked.
But I didn’t stop.
For thirteen years, I searched.
Social media. Old friends. Anything.
Nothing.
I built a life anyway.
I became a nurse. It gave me purpose. It kept me moving.
But it never replaced what I lost.
Some part of me stayed behind.
Still waiting.
Until the day everything changed.
It was an ordinary morning.
I stopped at my usual coffee shop before work. The place buzzed with quiet conversation.
Then I heard it.
“Can I get a medium latte? Two sugars.”
My heart stopped. “That voice,” I thoguht to myself.
I turned.
And there he was.
Older. Changed. But unmistakable.
“Ethan,” I said.
His head snapped toward me.
“Isabelle?”
There was no hesitation.
No confusion.
Just recognition.
“You’re really here,” he said.
“So are you.”
He stepped closer, like he needed proof I wouldn’t disappear.
“I thought about this moment so many times,” he said.
“Me too.”
Then everything shifted.
“I thought you didn’t care,” I said.
He frowned.
“I wrote to you. For years,” I clarified.
His expression hardened. “So did I.”
“I never got anything.”
“Neither did I.”
Silence.
Then realization.
“My mom…” I whispered.
“My dad,” he said.
We looked at each other.
And understood.
“They kept us apart.”
Thirteen years.
Gone.
“I thought you gave up on me,” he said.
“I thought you forgot me.”
“I looked for you.”
“Me too.”
That truth changed everything.
“Why are you back?” I asked.
“I flew back from London last week. I’d been stopping by random places hoping to catch you at one of them. I just passed my board exams – I’m an engineer now.”
Emotion rose in my chest.
“I’m a nurse now, too,” I told him. I knew he’d be proud of me. I’d talked about becoming a nurse since we were children.
“I always knew you’d be one,” he said.
