But it was already too late.
***
I couldn’t stop thinking about Christopher. His story, the accident, the weight he carried. It haunted me.
I placed an ad in the local paper, something simple but direct:
“Christopher Hartman, if you see this, please meet me at the restaurant where we last had dinner.
I eat there every evening. Mia.”
I felt a little foolish, not knowing if he’d ever read it or if he even wanted to see me again. But I had to try.
There was too much left unsaid.
***
The day after placing the ad, I arrived at the restaurant early. As the minutes ticked by, doubt started creeping in.
Maybe he didn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t want to.
But then, just as I was about to give up, the door opened.
Christopher stepped in, scanning the room until they landed on me. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he walked over.
“I saw your ad,” he said, sitting down across from me.
We locked eyes for a moment before I spoke. “There’s so much I need to tell you.
I found out about your past… about the accident… My mother finally admitted she was at fault, too. And…. she took your money!”
“I didn’t want to blame anyone.
After my wife died… nothing mattered.”
We sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle between us.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to be,” he said, his voice soft. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but still… I want to help. My mother wants to make things right.
She’s returning what she took from you.”
We spent the rest of the evening talking. It wasn’t about pretending anymore. It was real.
By the end of the night, I realized something. I had fallen in love with Christopher. And the best part?
He felt the same.
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Source: amomama
