Life After Love #lovestory #shortstory #freeromanceread

​Marissa spent the entire afternoon convincing herself that tonight would be different. She chose her dress carefully, finally deciding on a wine-colored midi dress that accentuated her cocoa-tinted eyes. She fixed her hair, messy bun style, and checked her teeth for any leftover lettuce from the cranberry salad she'd had for lunch.  Once she approved of her appearance, she decided on the ruby-red pumps with the four-inch heels.

Yes, she thought, studying herself. Perfect. 

Chris was one of the best-looking guys she'd dated. Not that she'd had much experience. She was in love, or lust, she didn't know the difference. She'd had one long-term relationship with Ryan, her significant other, who'd died a few years back in a horrific car crash. Three years later, her friends dared her to go on a dating site and Chris had liked her immediately. Over the past few months, they'd talked over the phone, sent plenty of texts, and gone out on several dates. She wasn't ready for the physical side of love or lust, because she knew herself well enough not to open up that can of worms.  There were days when grief still reared its ugly head. Everyone told her two years for the fog to lift and five years to return to normal. She doubted Chris would wait that long. 

But you never know, she reminded herself.  

She double-checked her hair and make-up and headed out the door. The weather was warm and the restaurant a quick two block walk. She liked Chris. He was witty, charming, and thoughtful most of the time. But she hadn't missed the way he studied other women when they were together. It wasn't just a quick glance and a look-away. No. He studied them not her. The way they moved, the smiles, even going so far as to comment that he'd love to be in the middle of their conversation, said while at dinner two weeks ago. His curiosity made her uncomfortable, but in a way, she understood the urge to know, because she had it in herself. Only hers was to glance into houses lighted by an inner lamp just as dusk was falling. She looked for homes that reflected warmth. Something she wanted to create. A warm white light spilling out of a living room window bathing the outside decor in a soft radiance. 

She sighed as she walked into the restaurant. Fredrico's was a known hotspot for the up and coming. The food was top notch, the wait staff impeccable.  She had to admit that she had her own quirks as well. She rarely said what was on her mind, preferring to wait and see how things panned out before commenting or suggesting.  She knew it confused people, but that approach made her feel safe and safety was something she prioritized above all else. 

Rudolpho seated her at their reserved table. She ordered a whiskey neat, took a sip of water, and glanced around the room. She knew the couple sitting across from her and she politely waved.  They were in the process of a divorce. They looked angry and she overheard something about splitting up the kids. Marriage, she thought. Might not be for me. 

Then Chris walked in, with his ex-girlfriend beside him.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said lightly, as if he’d invited a coworker, not the woman who had once broken his heart and still texted him late at night. “We’re just friends.”

The words hit Marissa like cold water. She tried to smile, tried to breathe, tried to pretend she didn’t see the way the ex-girlfriend slithered into the seat beside him as if she belonged there. The two of them laughed over a joke she didn't get. So, she sat silent, shrinking, invisible. She had no idea what to do in this situation. 

A familiar ache rose in her chest. Then the voice that whispered she wasn't good enough, that she cared too much, that he would never care the same way she did, began its overthinking and unbearable advice. She remembered her friend Rachel telling her that there was no way on Earth that men and women can be friends. And even if they say they are, something is brewing in one of them.  Her breath caught. 

"I have to go," she said.

Chris glanced at her, confusion evident, as though he couldn’t imagine why she looked upset. Something inside her cracked.
She didn’t wait for a response. She fled.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face, and her vision blurred. She didn’t see the man stepping out of the adjacent doorway until she collided with him hard enough to stumble.

Strong hands caught her shoulders.

“Whoa, easy does it,” he said, steadying her.

She looked up.

Deep brown eyes met hers. They were warm, startled, and full of concern. Not the distracted, half-present gaze she was used to getting from Chris. Not the dismissive confusion she’d just run from. This was different. This was someone seeing her for the first time.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

Something in his voice made her hesitate. Though deep, it was gentle, grounded, caring, and it unraveled the knot in her mid-section. She felt her breath return. She felt herself return. 

“I am now,” she said, surprised to hear the truth in her own words.

His hands loosened but didn’t drop away immediately, as if he wanted to be sure she was steady. “Good. I’m glad.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to the warmth of his touch and the quiet sincerity in his eyes. It wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming. It was simple. Clear. A feeling that eased into her like a promise.
​
Love at first sight, she suddenly realized, isn't lightning or chaos. It is recognition. It is seeing the person in front of you.  He didn't push her out of the way. He accepted her circumstance without judging. Even though she'd run from a restaurant and straight into his arms.

Well, almost. 

She had spent months chasing affection from someone who didn't know how to give it. Someone who'd never learned the language of kindness nor had he recognized her personhood. And now, standing in the doorway of the restaurant, the truth settled on her like a glove, soft and secure.

Love isn't a prize I have to earn, she thought. It is a gift given from one person to another. It is respect. It is acceptance. 

"Thank you," she said to the man who finally let go of her shoulder. 

"Glad I could help," he said.

Before he left, she glanced at his ring finger. She gathered her courage. "Are you single?" 

"I am," he answered.  His dark brown eyes lighted with interest. "You?" 

"Yes." Marissa smiled.

Hope didn’t just return.

It opened like a flower that had waited too long in the dark.