Just five words. That was all it took to shake me to my core. I read them over and over, gripping the paper so tightly my knuckles turned white.A letter. From Elizabeth. After all these years. My hands trembled as I unfolded the rest.
“I wonder if you ever think about those days. About the way we laughed, about how you held my hand that night at the lake. I do. I always have.”
“James, you’re a damn fool,” I muttered under my breath.For four decades, I had convinced myself it was over, that the past was best left buried. But this letter? It felt like a door swinging wide open.
We began exchanging letters. At first, they were cautious—brief updates, small glimpses into our lives. But soon, they grew longer, filled with memories, laughter, and confessions we had never dared to say aloud before.
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But then, something was wrong. A sharp pain gripped my chest. It spread, searing down my left arm. My breaths turned shallow. A flight attendant rushed toward me.
“Sir, are you alright?”
I tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. My vision blurred, voices swirled around me, and then—darkness.
“I figured that much when I woke up in a hospital instead of my destination,” I muttered.He gave me a knowing look. “I understand this isn’t what you planned, but you need to take it easy. No flying. No unnecessary stress.”
Frustration simmered beneath my skin. But what choice did I have?
“You don’t strike me as someone who listens to doctors.”
“I don’t strike myself as someone who sits around waiting to die, either,” I shot back.
Lauren didn’t flinch. She just studied me like she already knew exactly what kind of man I was.
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“You were going to see someone,” she asked.“Elizabeth. We… wrote letters. After forty years of silence. She asked me to come.”
She nodded, like she had already pieced it together.
“Forty years is a long time.”
“Too long.”
She didn’t pry, didn’t ask for more details. Instead, she simply sat beside me, her presence unexpectedly comforting.
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“You remind me of someone,” I said, mostly to myself.
“Yeah? Who?”
“Myself. A long time ago.”
“Lauren, are you…”“Leaving? Yeah.” she admitted. “I’ve spent too long being stuck. You’re not the only one trying to find something, James.”
Her expression was steady, unwavering.
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“You don’t even know me,” I said, watching her carefully.She smirked, shifting the car keys in her hand. “I know enough. And I want to help you.”
The road stretched ahead, empty and endless. The hum of the tires and the rush of air through the open windows filled the silence between us. I didn’t mind. This was the first time in a long time that silence felt comfortable.
“How far is it?” she asked, eyes flicking toward me.“Couple more hours.” I answered simply.
She nodded. “Good.” she murmured, her fingers drumming against the wheel.
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“You in a hurry?”
“No,” she said.
She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Just making sure you’re not gonna pass out on me.”
We drove until we reached the destination—the address Elizabeth had given me. But it wasn’t a house. It was a nursing home.Lauren pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. I stared at the building, my heart heavy.
“This is it?” she finally said.
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“This is the address she gave me.” I muttered as I stepped out.Inside, the scent of fresh linens and old books lingered in the air. The walls were warm, inviting, like an attempt to make this place feel like home. A few elderly residents sat in the lounge, lost in their own thoughts.
Elizabeth had always hated the idea of growing old in a place like this. My stomach twisted.
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A voice from the reception desk called out. “Can I help you?”I turned toward the sound but hesitated when I felt Lauren stiffen beside me.
Her eyes locked on the man behind the desk. He wasn’t much older than her—dark hair, kind eyes.
“Lauren,” he breathed.
She gave me a sad smile. “James,” she murmured. “You came.”A bitter laugh escaped me. “You made sure of that, didn’t you?”
She lowered her gaze, as if ashamed. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
My chest tightened. “So you lied? You let me believe…” I exhaled, shaking my head. “Why?”She hesitated, then sighed. “I found your letters. They were tucked away in Elizabeth’s things. She never stopped reading them, James. Even after all those years.”
My breath hitched, my throat burning.
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“She passed away last year. I fought to keep the house, but… I lost that too.”Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words.
My voice was cold when I finally spoke. “You had no right,”
She swallowed hard. “I know.”I turned away, unable to look at her any longer. “Where is she buried?”
She hesitated, then finally gave me the answer.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Then I walked away.
Lauren was still near the front, watching me carefully.
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The cemetery was silent, except for the wind rustling through the trees. Dry leaves crunched under my shoes as I made my way toward the gravestone.Elizabeth’s name was carved into the stone, etched in the past.
My voice trembled as I whispered, “I made it,” “I’m here.”
But I was too late.I ran my fingers over the letters, tracing her name as if it would bring her back.
Lauren stood a few feet away, giving me space, but I barely noticed her. The world had shrunk to just me and this gravestone.
The wind carried my words away.
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“Susan lied to me. She made me believe you were still waiting. And I was stupid enough to believe it.”Silence filled the space between us. Then, deep inside me, a small voice answered. It wasn’t hers.
It was mine.
“Susan didn’t deceive you. She was just lonely. Like you. And what now? Will you run away again?”
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We returned to the city and found a small hotel. I didn’t ask where Lauren disappeared in the evenings, but I knew.Jefferson. The man from the nursing home.
One night, as she walked in, cheeks flushed from the cold, I finally asked, “Are you going to stay?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I think so. I took a job at a nursery home.”
I wasn’t surprised. She had found something she hadn’t even realized she was looking for.And maybe, so had I.
I bought back Elizabeth’s house.
At first, Susan hesitated when I asked her to come with me.
>
“James, I… I don’t want to be a burden.”I gave her a soft smile. “You’re not,” I said simply. “You just wanted a home. So did I.”
She wiped her eyes, nodded, and finally stepped forward to hug me.
Lauren moved in, too.
Every evening, we sat outside in the garden, watching the sky change colors. We played chess, we talked, we laughed. And for the first time in years, I felt at peace.
All I had to do was trust fate.
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