Night-shift nurse Alex finds purpose beyond routine when he learns of his elderly patient George’s single regret—a love lost at sea. Teaming up with his friend Kate, Alex embarks on a heartfelt search for George’s long-lost love, uncovering life’s hidden truths about timing, courage, and second chances.
The quiet night felt like a rare gift, though Alex wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. His shifts usually kept him running, but tonight the halls were hushed, the patients asleep, and his duties light.
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The dimly lit corridor stretched ahead as he texted his friend and roommate, Kate. She was his go-to for everything—from sharing funny moments to venting on tough days.
They’d been schoolmates once, but only last year, when they both responded to the same apartment listing, had they finally gotten to know each other. Living in neighboring units had transformed them from casual acquaintances into close friends.
Just as Alex was sending Kate a sticker of a yawning cat, a nurse approached him. “Alex, George is asking for you,” she said with a warm smile.
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“Thanks,” Alex replied, slipping his phone into his pocket and heading toward George’s room. George was 88 but brimming with energy, more vibrant than many half his age.
George also had a wealth of stories, having worked as a sailor in his youth. As Alex entered, he found the old man eagerly shuffling a deck of cards, his face lighting up at the sight of his visitor.
Alex pulled a chair close to George’s bed and sat down, eyeing the deck of cards in George’s hands. “Couldn’t find anyone to play with?” he asked, smiling.
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“Everyone turned me down. Can you believe it?” George replied, shaking his head with a grin.
“Well, it’s 2 a.m., so I get it,” Alex said, settling in. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
George shook his head. “I just can’t fall asleep.”
“I could ask the doctor to prescribe something,” Alex offered.
George chuckled. “Alex, I’m 88. I’ve had more than enough sleep in my life.”
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Alex laughed and took the deck, shuffling it. He dealt the cards, and they played quietly for a while. Then, George laid down a card and glanced up, his expression shifting.
“Dr. Martinez told me I only have a few months left,” George said softly.
Alex’s heart sank. He saw patients face death often, but it was never easy, especially with George. “Oh…”
George smiled gently. “It’s okay. I’m ready. I’ve had a long, full life. No regrets—well, except one.” His voice drifted off, eyes distant.
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“What’s that?” Alex asked, leaning forward.
“There was someone I loved. We met on a ship, but we had to say goodbye.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “I thought women were bad luck on ships.”
George chuckled. “His name was David Smith.”
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“That’s…unexpected,” Alex said, smiling. “Did you ever try to find him?”
“No. It’s been too long. I doubt he remembers me,” George replied.
“You never know,” Alex said, just as George laid down his last card.
“Looks like you lost,” George announced, grinning with triumph.
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Alex laughed, already reaching to shuffle the deck for another round.
When Alex got home in the morning, he found Kate leaning sleepily against the kitchen counter. She was still in her pajamas, sipping coffee slowly. Working from home meant she rarely rushed.
“Hey, how was your shift?” Kate asked, rubbing her eyes.
“George got some bad news,” Alex replied, setting his bag down. “He found out he only has a few months left.”
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“Oh no, that’s so sad.” Kate’s face fell. “I like George.”
Alex nodded, knowing how much Kate cared. She’d met some of his patients before when she volunteered. George especially liked her and often teased Alex, asking why he hadn’t asked her out.
Alex usually brushed it off. He’d had a crush on Kate back in high school, but now they were just friends. Dating might make things complicated, especially since they were roommates.
“George told me his only regret is not being with his true love,” Alex said. “I want to find him. Will you help?”
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Kate’s eyes lit up. “A love story? I’m in!” She poured herself more coffee with a grin.
In the days that followed, Alex and Kate worked together to find all the Davids with the last name Smith. After hours of searching, they managed to narrow it down to six possible matches.
“That’s still a long list,” Alex said, scanning the names.
“Are you kidding?” Kate replied, laughing. “When we started, it felt like there were a million Davids out there. Now we’re down to just six!”
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“A million, huh?” Alex teased, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, close to that,” Kate said, chuckling. They shared a smile, enjoying the rare moment of progress.
“We can start visiting them on weekends,” Alex suggested. “It’ll be easier when I don’t have work.”
“Sounds good to me,” Kate agreed, nodding. Just then, her phone buzzed, and a wide smile spread across her face.
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“Did you win the lottery?” Alex asked, watching her reaction.
“No, it’s Troy. We met at a conference,” Kate explained. “He just asked me out. I think he likes me.”
Alex paused. “And do you like him?”
“Maybe,” Kate said, grinning as she walked to her room, phone in hand. Alex watched her go, feeling a strange pang he couldn’t explain.
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For the next two weeks, Alex and Kate met with four Davids, but none turned out to be George’s long-lost love.
David #1, a cheerful older man, was happily married with kids, grandkids, and even great-grandkids. David #2, a spry gentleman, was engaged to a woman three decades younger, a detail Kate and Alex found surprising.
When they tried to meet David #3, they discovered he had passed away years ago. Finally, David #4, who claimed he had sailed many seas, eventually admitted he’d never actually set foot on a ship.
After each visit, they sat with George, sharing each David’s story. He listened quietly, nodding along but showing no spark of recognition.
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“Just give it up. It’s hopeless,” George muttered, his voice tired.
“Nothing’s hopeless when it comes to love,” Kate replied firmly. “And we still have two Davids left. One of them has to be yours.”
George looked away, sighing. “What if it’s David #3—the one who’s already passed?” His cough grew rougher, a reminder of his weakening health.
“Come on, George, don’t be so pessimistic,” Alex said gently, patting his arm.
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The next week, Alex and Kate set off to meet David #5, a fisherman living by the docks.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” Kate said as they drove.
“Oddly, so do I,” Alex replied, smiling.
When they finally met David #5, Alex and Kate learned he had, in fact, been on the same ship as George at the same time.
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“Do you remember him?” Alex asked hopefully. “He was kind, maybe a bit of a pessimist, and he was really good at cards.”
Kate jumped in, adding, “Oh, and you were in love with him!”
David #5 looked at them, shaking his head with a slight smile. “Sorry, but no. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Kate’s face fell. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
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Seeing their letdown, David #5 offered, “How about I treat you both to lunch for your trouble?”
Kate brightened. “I’d love that! I’m starving.”
“I know just the spot,” David #5 said, smiling as he led them out of his house.
As they walked, Alex noticed Kate pulling her sweater tighter, shivering a bit. He remembered how he’d reminded her to bring a warmer coat, but instead of saying anything, he slipped off his jacket and gently draped it over her shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw David #5 watching them, a small, knowing smile on his face.
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“You two make a lovely couple,” David #5 said.
“Oh…no…no,” Alex stammered, his face turning a bit red.
“We’re just friends,” Alex and Kate replied at the same time, exchanging a quick, awkward glance.
After lunch with David #5, they headed home, feeling tired.
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“It’s a shame he wasn’t the one,” Alex said. “I really thought he was.”
“Or maybe he just isn’t brave enough to say it,” Kate replied thoughtfully.
Alex headed out alone to meet David #6, feeling a bit strange without Kate by his side. She was out with Troy, so it was just him for this visit.
David #6 greeted Alex with a bleary gaze; it didn’t take long to realize the man struggled with alcohol and couldn’t remember much of anything, let alone George. As Alex was about to leave, his phone buzzed—a message from a nurse.
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George was in critical condition and might not have long. Without hesitation, Alex texted Kate: “David #6 is a no-go. Heading to the hospital; George is in bad shape.”
He didn’t expect a reply, knowing Kate was likely still on her date with Troy. But as he arrived at the hospital, he spotted her standing by the entrance, arms crossed and eyes searching for him.
“Kate?” he asked, surprised. “I thought you were out with Troy.”
She nodded, a soft, determined look in her eyes. “I was, but George needs us. I couldn’t stay away.”
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Together, they hurried down the quiet hospital hallways toward George’s room. Just outside, they spotted David #5, sitting with his head down, lost in thought. Kate stopped, placing a gentle hand on Alex’s arm.
“I think it’s best if you talk to him alone,” she whispered. “My excitement might make him back away again.”
Alex nodded, understanding. He approached David #5, who looked up with weary eyes as Alex sat beside him. David shifted uncomfortably.
“I can’t bring myself to go in there,” he confessed. “I thought I could do it, but… it’s hard.”
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“You’ve waited so long already,” Alex replied quietly. “Why not now? You had the chance to tell us before, but you held back.”
David sighed, looking at his hands. “I’ve spent so many years hiding this part of me. It’s not easy to change.”
“It’s better late than never,” Alex said gently. “He’s right there, on the other side of this door. Just a few steps away. Isn’t it worth taking that chance now?”
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After a long pause, David nodded and slowly stood, facing the door. Before he went in, he looked at Alex and nodded toward Kate, who stood watching, her eyes misty. “Take your own advice, Alex. You still have time.”
David slipped into the room, leaving Alex standing with Kate. Seeing her eyes filled with emotion, Alex realized the truth in David’s words. He walked over to her, his heart racing.
“Kate, I—” he began, but she stepped forward and kissed him. Surprised but relieved, Alex wrapped his arms around her, knowing that some things in life were worth the risk, no matter the complications.
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At 55, I Got a Ticket to Greece from a Man I Met Online, But I Wasn’t the One Who Arrived — Story of the Day
At 55, I flew to Greece to meet the man I’d fallen for online. But when I knocked on his door, someone else was already there—wearing my name and living my story.
All my life, I had been building a fortress. Brick by brick.
No towers. No knights. Just a microwave that beeped like a heart monitor, kids’ lunchboxes that always smelled like apples, dried-out markers, and sleepless nights.
I raised my daughter alone.
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Her father disappeared when she was three.
“Like the autumn wind blowing off a calendar,” I once said to my best friend Rosemary, “one page gone, no warning.”
I didn’t have time to cry.
There was rent to pay, clothes to wash, and fevers to battle. Some nights, I fell asleep in jeans, with spaghetti on my shirt. But I made it work. No nanny, no child support, no pity.
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And then… my girl grew up.
She married a sweet, freckled guy who called me ma’am and carried her bags like she was glass. Moved to another state. Started a life. She still called every Sunday.
“Hi, Mom! Guess what? I made lasagna without burning it!”
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I smiled every time.
“I’m proud of you, baby.”
Then, one morning, after her honeymoon, I sat in the kitchen holding my chipped mug and looked around. It was so quiet. No one to shout, “Where’s my math book!” No ponytails bouncing through the hallway. No spilled juice to clean.
Just 55-year-old me. And silence.
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Loneliness doesn’t slam into your chest. It slips in through the window, soft like dusk.
You stop cooking authentic meals. You stop buying dresses. You sit with a blanket, watching rom-coms, and think:
“I don’t need grand passion. Just someone to sit next to me. Breathe beside me. That would be enough.”
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And that’s when Rosemary burst into my life again, like a glitter bomb in a church.
“Then sign up for a dating site!” she said one afternoon, stomping into my living room in heels too high for logic.
“Rose, I’m 55. I’d rather bake bread.”
She rolled her eyes and dropped onto my couch.
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“You’ve been baking bread for ten years! Enough already. It’s time you finally baked a man.”
I laughed. “You make it sound like I can sprinkle him with cinnamon and put him in the oven.”
“Honestly, that would be easier than dating at our age,” she muttered, yanking out her laptop. “Come here. We’re doing this.”
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“Let me just find a photo where I don’t look like a saint or a school principal,” I said, scrolling through my camera roll.
“Oh! This one,” she said, holding up a picture from my niece’s wedding. “Soft smile. Shoulder exposed. Elegant but mysterious. Perfect.”
She clicked and scrolled like a professional speed dater.
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“Too much teeth. Too many fish. Why are they always holding fish?” Rosemary mumbled.
Then she froze.
“Wait. Here. Look.”
And there it was:
“Andreas58, Greece.”
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I leaned closer. A quiet smile. A tiny stone house with blue shutters in the background. A garden. Olive trees.
“Looks like he smells like olives and calm mornings,” I said.
“Ooooh,” Rosemary grinned. “And he messaged you FIRST!”
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“He did?”
She clicked. His messages were short. No emojis. No exclamation marks. But warm. Grounded. Real. He told me about his garden, the sea, baking fresh bread with rosemary, and collecting salt from the rocks.
And on the third day… he wrote:
“I’d love to invite you to visit me, Martha. Here, in Paros.”
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I just stared at the screen. My heart thudded like it hadn’t in years.
Am I still alive if I’m afraid of romance again? Could I really leave my little fortress? For an olive man?
I needed Rosemary. So I called her.
“Dinner tonight. Bring pizza. And whatever that fearless energy of yours is made of.”
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***
“This is karma!” Rosemary shouted. “I’ve been digging through dating sites for six months like an archaeologist with a shovel, and you—bam!—you’ve got a ticket to Greece already!”
“It’s not a ticket. It’s just a message.”
“From a Greek man. Who owns olive trees. That’s basically a Nicholas Sparks novel in sandals.”
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“Rosemary, I can’t just run off like that. This isn’t a trip to IKEA. This is a man. In a foreign country. He might be a bot from Pinterest, for all I know.”
Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Let’s be smart about this. Ask him for pictures—of his garden, the view from his house, I don’t care. If he’s fake, it’ll show.”
“And if he’s not?”
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“Then you pack your swimsuit and fly.”
I laughed, but wrote to him. He replied within the hour. The photos came in like a soft breeze.
The first showed a crooked stone path lined with lavender. The second—a little donkey with sleepy eyes standing. The third—a whitewashed house with blue shutters and a faded green chair.
And then… a final photo. A plane ticket. My name on it. Flight in four days.
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I stared at the screen like it was a magic trick. I blinked twice. Still there.
“Is this happening? Is this actually… real?”
“Let me see! Oh, God! Of course, real, silly! Pack your bags,” Rosemary exclaimed.
“Nope. Nope. I’m not going. At my age? Flying into the arms of a stranger? This is how people end up in documentaries!”
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Rosemary didn’t say anything at first. Just kept chewing her pizza.
Then she sighed. “Okay. I get it. It’s a lot.”
I nodded, hugging my arms around myself.
***
That night, after she left, I was curled on the couch under my favorite blanket when my phone buzzed.
Text from Rosemary: “Imagine! I got an invitation too! Flying to my Jean in Bordeaux. Yay!”
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“Jean?” I frowned. “She never even mentioned a Jean.”
I stared at the message for a long time.
Then, I got up, walked to my desk, and opened the dating site. I had an irresistible desire to write to him, to thank him and accept his proposition. But the screen was empty.
His profile—gone. Our messages—gone. Everything—gone.
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He must’ve removed his account. Probably thought I ghosted him. But I still had the address. He had sent it in one of the early messages. I’d scribbled it on the back of a grocery receipt.
Moreover, I had the photo. And the plane ticket.
If not now, then when? If not me—then who?
I walked to the kitchen, poured a cup of tea, and whispered into the night,
“Screw it. I’m going to Greece.”
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***
As I stepped off the ferry in Paros, the sun hit me like a soft, warm slap.
The air smelled different. Not like home. There, it was saltier. Wilder. I pulled my little suitcase behind me—it thumped like a stubborn child refusing to be dragged through adventure.
Past sleepy cats stretched on windowsills like they’d ruled the island for centuries. Past grandmothers in black scarves were sweeping their doorsteps.
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I followed the blue dot on my phone screen. My heart pounded like it hadn’t in years.
What if he’s not there? What if it’s all a weird dream, and I’m standing in front of a stranger’s house in Greece?
I paused at the gate. Deep breath. Shoulders back. My fingers hovered over the bell. Ding. The door creaked open.
Wait… What?! No way! Rosemary!
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Barefoot. Wearing a flowing white dress. Her lipstick was fresh. Her hair was curled into soft waves. She looked like a yogurt commercial came to life.
“Rosemary? Weren’t you supposed to be in France?”
She tilted her head like a curious cat.
“Hello,” she purred. “You came? Oh, darling, that’s so unlike you! You said you weren’t flying. So I decided… to take the chance.”
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“You’re pretending to be me?”
“Technically, I created your account. Taught you everything. You were my… project. I just went to the final presentation.”
“But… how? Andreas’s account disappeared. And the messages, too.”
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“Oh, I saved the address, deleted your messages, and removed Andreas from your friends. Just in case you changed your mind. I didn’t know you knew how to save photos or the ticket.”
I wanted to scream. To cry. To slam the suitcase down and yell. But I didn’t. Just then, another shadow moved toward the door.
Andreas…
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“Hi, ladies.” He looked from me to her.
Rosemary immediately latched onto him, grabbing his arm.
“This is my friend Rosemary. She just happened to come. We told you about her, remember?”
“I came because of your invitation. But…”
He looked at me. His eyes were dark like the sea waves.
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“Well… that’s strange. Martha already arrived earlier, but…”
“I’m Martha!” I blurted.
Rosemary chirped sweetly.
“Oh, Andreas, my friend just got a bit anxious about me leaving. She always babysat me. So she must’ve flown here to check if everything’s fine—and you’re not a scammer.”
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Andreas was clearly charmed by Rosemary. He laughed at her antics.
“Alright then… Stay. You can figure things out. We’ve got enough room here.”
Whatever magic was supposed to be there—it had been hijacked…
My friend was playing against me. But I had a chance to stay and set things straight. Andreas deserved the truth, even if it wasn’t as sparkling as Rosemary.
“I’ll stay,” I smiled, accepting the rules of Rosemary’s game.
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***
Dinner was delicious, the view was perfect, and the mood—tight, like Rosemary’s silk blouse after a croissant.
She was all smiles and giggles, filling the air with her voice like perfume with nowhere else to go.
“Andreas, do you have any grandkids?” Rosemary purred.
Finally! There it was. My chance.
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I set down my fork slowly, looked up with the calmest face I could manage, and said, “Didn’t he tell you he has a grandson named Richard?”
Rosemary’s face flickered, just for a second. Then she lit up.
“Oh, right! Your… Richard!”
I smiled politely.
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“Oh, Andreas,” I added, looking straight at him, “but you don’t have a grandson. It’s a granddaughter. Rosie. She wears pink hair ties and loves drawing cats on the walls. And her favorite donkey—what’s his name again? Oh, that’s right. ‘Professor.'”
The table went quiet. Andreas turned to look at Rosemary. She froze, then let out a nervous chuckle.
“Andreas,” she said softly, trying to sound playful, “I think Rosemary is joking strangely. You know my memory…”
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Her hand reached for her glass, and I noticed it trembled.
Mistake one. But I am not done.
“And Andreas, don’t you share the same hobby as Martha? It’s so sweet how you both enjoy the same things.”
Rosemary frowned for a moment… then lit up. “Oh yes! Antique shops! Andreas, that’s wonderful. What was your latest find? I bet this island has tons of little treasures!”
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Andreas set down his fork.
“There are no antique shops here. And I’m not into antiques.”
Mistake number two. Rosemary is on the hook now. I continue.
“Of course, Andreas. You restore old furniture. You told me the last thing you made was a beautiful table still in your garage. Remember you’re supposed to sell it to a woman down the street?”
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Andreas frowned, then turned to Rosemary.
“You’re not Martha. How did I not see this right away? Show me your passport, please.”
She tried to laugh it off. “Oh, come on, don’t be dramatic…”
But passports don’t joke. A minute later, everything was on the table like the check at a restaurant. No surprises. Just an unpleasant truth.
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“I’m sorry,” Andreas said softly, turning back to Rosemary. “But I didn’t invite you.”
Rosemary’s smile cracked. She stood up fast.
“Real Martha’s boring! She’s quiet, always thinking things through, and never improvises! With her, it’ll feel like living in a museum!”
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“That’s exactly why I fell for her. For her attention to detail. For the pauses. For not rushing into things: because she wasn’t chasing thrills, she was seeking truth.”
“Oh, I just seized the moment to build happiness!” Rosemary yelled. “Martha was too slow and less invested than I was.”
“You cared more about the itinerary than the person,” Andreas replied. “You asked about the size of the house, the internet speed, the beaches. Martha… she knows what color ribbons Rosie wears.”
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Rosemary huffed and grabbed her bag.
“Well, suit yourself! But you’ll run from her in three days. You’ll get tired of the silence. And the buns daily.”
She stormed around the house like a hurricane, stuffing clothes into her suitcase with the fury of a tornado in heels. Then—slam. The door shook in its frame.
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Andreas and I just sat there on the terrace. The sea whispered in the distance. The night wrapped around us like a soft shawl.
We drank herbal tea without a word.
“Stay for a week,” he said after a while.
I looked at him. “What if I never want to leave?”
“Then we’ll buy another toothbrush.”
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And the following week…
We laughed. We baked buns. We picked olives with sticky fingers. We walked along the shore, not saying much.
I didn’t feel like a guest. I didn’t feel like someone passing through. I felt alive. And I felt… at home.
Andreas asked me to stay a bit longer. And I… wasn’t in a rush to go back.
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