Not Every Lost Love Deserves a Second Chance

Her partner of seventeen years died. Bowel cancer got him.

It took time for the disease to take him down, but it was still a blow when his time came.

Before he passed, they had an opportunity to talk about her future without him by her side. They talked about their options. She didn’t want to be alone. I don’t know which one suggested it, but calling me up must’ve seemed logical.

She heard that my marriage had ended. I guess that’s what prompted her call.

I was in town, and she wanted to meet for coffee. We hadn’t spoken in decades. Suddenly, she wanted to know everything about me.

As I sat across from Janet, her presence evoked a tide of memories crashing into my mind, stirring emotions I thought I had buried long ago.

Forty years had passed since we dated, twenty since we last spoke, yet here she was, seeking me out, concerned for my well-being like it was yesterday.

We were teenagers in love. It was going brilliantly until she ended it.

I remembered the day like it was yesterday. Her words, “I can do better,” echoed in my ears. It pierced through the haze of hurt and confusion.

At the time, her departure shattered me. It came out of nowhere. I didn’t understand how she could be so cruel. She never showed that side of her before.

Now, as she confessed to deep regret for her choices, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter irony coursing through me. The years had taught me much about life and love, and her reappearance tugged at the strings of nostalgia.

Part of me wanted to return to the romance we once had. Excusing her exit, we were good together. For two years, we lived and loved passionately. We planned so much together. We talked about forever.

And then forever ended with her choice to leave.

A larger part of me hurt too much to let that part go. I couldn’t forget that cruel act.

I looked into her eyes, once familiar but now tinged with a hint of loss and desperation, and found myself speaking words I never thought I’d utter.

“Janet,” I began, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within, “what you said and did to me all those years ago cut deep. You said you could do better and left. That taught me something invaluable.”

She waited with bated breath, anticipation etched across her face.

“I’ve learned that sometimes, what we think we want isn’t necessarily what we need, and as much as I once believed you were the one for me, I’ve come to understand that I was wrong. I can’t forget what happened.”

Her expression faltered, a flicker of hurt flashing across her face before she masked it with a forced smile.

“But Mark, I’ve changed,” she pleaded, desperation seeping into her tone. “I know now that you’re the one I want. The one I need.”

I reached across the table, gently taking her hand in mine.

“I may be the right one for you, but you are not the right one for me.”

Her head dipped momentarily as I continued.

“I wish you all the happiness in the world, Janet,” I said, my heart heavy. “But I’ve learned that sometimes, the greatest love stories are the ones that have passed. You did better for making your choice back then, and I know I will do better for making mine now.”

I slid my chair backwards, got up and left her with her coffee.

And a breaking heart. -M

–Michael (Dark Fiction. Author of SEETHINGS (the first book), free for a limited time)