There he stood, like a ghost from my past, wrapped in the fog of memories I could never quite shake. Owen. My first love, the boy who had stolen my heart with a single glance and left me with a gaping wound I never thought would heal. I thought I’d never see him again, that he had taken my heart with him, leaving only shadows of what it once was. Yet here he was, standing before me, and I could hardly recognize the shape of the love I had once held so dear.
Every single relationship that followed him felt dim in comparison to what we once shared, a constant reminder of an unattainable standard. No one ever measured up to the gravity of his lingering presence in my heart. Each man who tried to fill the space he once held only left me feeling emptier, as if they were mere placeholders.
With Owen, I was wrapped in a warmth that made me believe I was the only person in the world who mattered to him. It was a feeling that stayed with me long after he was gone, an imprint on my soul that no one else could replicate. I spent years searching for that same spark, only to realize that the flame he ignited within me had long since faded. The only thing left in its place was an ache in my chest from a memory of a love that was all-consuming. A love that I would never have again.
The boy with whom I had shared all my firsts had transformed into a man. He filled the doorway of the stationery store like a memory refusing to fade. I moved around a display, my heart quickening at the sight of him. He had filled out; his once-boyish frame now radiated strength. His jaw was thicker and more defined, a subtle stubble adding an edge to his striking features. Time had only enhanced his looks, and he was still the most beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on. He was the same intoxicating presence that haunted my thoughts, igniting nostalgia and longing within me.
“Where have you been?” a woman calls out to him impatiently. He flashes his thousand-watt smile at her.
“Sorry, I took a wrong turn.”
“We only have fifteen minutes to choose the save the date,” she pouts. Save the date. Did I hear her correctly?
“Liv?” his familiar voice cuts through my panicked thoughts. Liv. Only he called me that.
“Owen! Oh my gosh, hi!” I exclaim awkwardly.
“Olivia Mason. I can’t believe it’s really you,” he beams, and for a moment, all my defenses crumble beneath the weight of his smile.
“Owen Grant. It’s—It’s been a long time.”
“Ten years, is it?” It had already been a decade since I had last seen him, yet the memories rushed back like it was yesterday.
“Yeah, that sounds right.”
The petite blonde woman next to him clears her throat.
“I’m so sorry. Liv, this is Amy. Amy, this is Liv.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say as I extend my hand to her.
“You too,” she says warmly.
“Well, I was actually just heading out to meet someone,” I lie, the words tumbling from my lips with urgency. “It was…really great seeing you, Owen. Really.” I walk past him, my heart pounding as I rush out of the store, desperate to escape before my emotions spill over. He seems completely unfazed, as if my presence didn’t shake him at all. I make it past the coffee shop next door when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Liv,” Owen’s voice calls from behind me. “Wait up. You rushed out of there so fast. I wanted to see if we could meet up for coffee or something.” He was getting married. Why would he want to get coffee with an old girlfriend?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I reply, a tightness creeping into my chest.
“Come on, Livvy. We haven’t seen each other in a decade—a decade,” he says dramatically. “I can’t believe we ran into each other like this.”
“I didn’t know you were back,” I respond, the words feeling hollow as they come out of my mouth. “I thought you lived in Chicago.”
“I moved back last Spring. I took over my dad’s restaurant.” My cheeks flushed with the memory of the last time we were there together.
“I always knew you would,” I say softly, the memory bittersweet. “Listen, I really need to be somewhere.”
“One hour. That’s all I’m asking. Come on. Please?” he pleads, his hands clasped together as if offering up a prayer. Seeing those puppy-dog eyes, the very ones that once held my heart captive, made me feel weak.
“Fine,” I concede reluctantly, a tentative smile betraying the storm brewing inside me. What can it hurt? Just two old friends catching up, right?
“Still got the same number?” he asks, his voice filled with a hopeful eagerness that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I do.”
“I’ll text you when and where. God…” he lets out a breath. “…it was so good to see you, Liv.” My heart wrenched at his gaze. I still felt a tether to him, a pull when he looked at me like that. Like my very existence was everything to him. His hazel eyes still sparkled in the sunlight like gems.
“I’ll talk to you then.” It took everything in me not to wrap my arms around him so that I could breathe him in. Feel his arms tighten around me, shielding me from the outside world. I still wanted him. How could I still feel this way after so long?
After everything, he was still just that eighteen-year-old boy who had stolen bits and pieces of my soul. The boy who left me behind, crushing all of my hopes and dreams in his vacancy. The boy who was too much of a coward to face me, so he left me a letter instead: I’m so sorry, Liv, but I can’t go with you. I have to take this scholarship and follow my own path without you. I hope you can forgive me someday. I will always love you, Owen.
How could he act like nothing ever happened between us? Did he really move on so easily? Maybe our love had meant more to me than it ever did to him. Maybe I had romanticized it all, making our memories into something more beautiful than reality ever was. I felt like a fool, clinging to a past that he seemed eager to forget, while I was left grappling with the ghost of a love that still haunted my heart.
All the anger I had built up over the years had crumbled. How could one look, one word, unravel everything, and make me forget the pain he caused? I thought that I would never forgive him for what he did, but my heart betrayed me with one look at his face. With the sound of one word from his lips, I was that eighteen-year-old girl again—heart-wrenchingly, helplessly, and completely in love with him.
