The café on the corner had always been their place. It was where they met, where they fell in love, and where they built a thousand memories over coffee cups and whispered confessions. But tonight, the small table by the window felt emptier than ever.
Elena wrapped her fingers around her mug, the warmth barely reaching past her skin. She glanced at the door every few minutes, knowing deep down he wouldn’t come. It had been months since Lucas walked away, his words still echoing in her mind. “I love you, but I need to find myself.”
What did that even mean? She had wanted to ask, to beg him to stay, but she knew he was already halfway gone. And now, all she had left were the memories—the way he laughed, the way he touched her hand absentmindedly when they talked, the way he kissed her forehead as if promising forever.
The first few weeks without him were unbearable. She kept looking at her phone, rereading old messages, wondering if she had been enough. Had she loved him too much? Not enough? The questions haunted her at night, but she never found the answers.
And then, slowly, life moved forward. She threw herself into work, into books, into long walks through the city that once felt like theirs but was now hers alone. The pain dulled, though it never truly disappeared. She told herself she was healing, but the truth was, a part of her still waited.
Until tonight.
The door chimed, and her breath caught. For a split second, she thought it was him. But it wasn’t.
It was a stranger—a man with kind eyes and a hesitant smile. He glanced around before walking up to the counter, ordering something with an easy confidence that made her chest ache with nostalgia. It reminded her of the first time she had seen Lucas, the way he had stumbled over his order, flustered yet charming.
And then, the stranger turned, his gaze catching hers. For a moment, neither of them looked away. It was a silent question, a fleeting possibility of something new, something different.
Elena exhaled slowly, releasing a weight she hadn’t realized she was still carrying. Maybe love wasn’t meant to be held onto so tightly. Maybe, just maybe, it was meant to be let go, so something else could take its place.
She gave the stranger a small smile, and to her surprise, he smiled back.
Perhaps, tonight was the night she finally let Lucas go.
I was nineteen when my mother passed away. It happened so quickly that it felt surreal—a moment that still haunts my memories. One moment she was laughing at a silly reality show, and the next, she was fading away, her once-bright spirit dimming under the relentless assault of cancer. The loss was brutal and raw; cancer does not offer the luxury of goodbyes, and in our case, there was no time to prepare for the void it left behind.
My mother was the heart of our home, a beacon of warmth and kindness. She had an uncanny ability to make every room feel like it was filled with love, and nowhere was that more evident than in the way she cared for our family dog, Peanut. Peanut wasn’t just a pet; she was a constant companion who had stayed by Mom’s side through thick and thin. When Mom was at her weakest, Peanut would curl up beside her, offering comfort and a small measure of hope. Even as I struggled to come to terms with our loss, I found solace in the little dog’s steadfast presence.