When we entered her house and I saw Anthony again, I ran straight into his arms, but he stood frozen, unsure of how to react. I stepped back.
“I’ll give you two some space,” Kaitlyn whispered and walked into another room.
“Anthony, do you really not remember me?” I asked quietly.
“No… I… I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“I can show you our pictures,” I offered, and Anthony gave a small nod.
We sat on the couch, and I opened the gallery on my phone — photos of us at home, on vacation, on our wedding day.
I hoped they might trigger something. Anything. But he looked at them like he was staring at strangers.
Like he wasn’t in any of them. And that was exactly how he looked at me, too. Then I came across the ultrasound photo. Anthony frowned.
“We were supposed to have a baby,” I murmured. “But when you disappeared, I couldn’t handle the grief… and I lost the baby.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that,” Anthony said, his voice full of remorse. “But I don’t remember any of it. I feel like a total jerk right now.”
“It’s okay. Maybe it’ll come back,” I said, though even I didn’t sound convinced.
“Maybe,” he whispered.
Suddenly, the door burst open and the little girl from the beach ran in. She jumped straight into Anthony’s arms.
“What’s going on, wild one?” Anthony chuckled.
“Daddy, you promised we’d play!” she cried, pouting.
Kaitlyn stepped into the room. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop her. I’ll take her now,” she said apologetically, reaching for the child.
And that’s when I saw it. The way Anthony looked at her, at Kaitlyn. I knew that look.
It was the look he used to give me. The kind of look that made me feel like I could conquer the world, as long as he was beside me.
Now he looked at her that way. Not me. I was just some woman who’d shown up and shattered his peace.
Kaitlyn carried her daughter out of the room. I glanced around and saw the photos on the walls — the three of them together, smiling. They were a family.
“No. I can’t do this,” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” Anthony asked, confused.
“I can’t take you away from this life. The Anthony I loved, the man who was mine… he died three years ago. You’re someone else now. Your heart doesn’t belong to me anymore, it belongs to her,” I said, my voice trembling.
“I’m really sorry,” Anthony murmured.
“Don’t be. Maybe this was something I needed. I never got the chance to say goodbye. Now I finally can,” I replied.
“So what happens now?” he asked softly.
“You go back to the life you know. And I’ll finally start living mine,” I told him.
“So… you don’t want to see me again?” he asked gently.
“No. I don’t. I wish I could have my Anthony back, but that’s not possible. So goodbye… Anthony. Or Drake,” I said, standing up and walking out of the house.
For the first time in three years, I could breathe. He had his life and it was no longer mine. Now it was my turn to start over and finally live.
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