The stranger

Seline

The man stops the car right in front of my house. For a moment, he does not say anything, he just stares at me. His eyes are calm, steady, but I cannot tell what exactly he is thinking.

This has been a very quiet ride, almost painfully quiet. I had been sobbing the whole way here, drowning in my own pain and misery, and he hadn’t uttered a single word.

At first, I thought the silence would crush me, but as the car moved along the streets, I started appreciating it. Sometimes, silence is the greatest kindness someone can offer.

“We are here now,” he finally says, his voice low.

I quickly wipe away the tears on my face using the handkerchief I had been holding in my hand to clear my vision, though my eyes still sting. I force myself to put on a straight face, even though inside I feel like I am about to collapse.

“Thank you, sir. And here, your coat,” I say softly, handing it back to him.

“Before you go, please tell me your name,” he asks. His tone carries no pressure, no demands, only a quiet sincerity that makes me pause.

“I am Seline,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. Then I quickly open the car door and step out. The last thing I wanted right now was to start talking to him or anyone else.

Words felt heavy, almost unbearable. I didn’t feel like explaining myself, I didn’t feel like socializing. My entire body was drained. All I wanted was to head to my room, shut the door, and bury myself under the sheets. I was tired, tired from today, tired from all the heartbreak, tired from everything.

I had barely reached my gate when I heard his voice again.

“Seline, you left your bag in my car,” the man calls out, making me turn around.

I blink in surprise. It was true. My handbag. In my state of mind, I hadn’t even realized I was missing it. My mind was too clouded with pain to remember such small detail.

“Oh, thank you. And I’m sorry I have troubled you,” I reply, forcing a smile on my lips.

“No, don’t even think about it. It was my pleasure helping you,” he says kindly, his words warm and assuring.

Something in me feels it would be wrong to let him leave without at least knowing who he is. He was my saviour today and I am really grateful for that.

“What is your name?” I ask quietly, my voice trembling but steady enough to be heard.

“Alex. I am Alex Stones,” he replies.

“Thank you, Alex,” I say as I open the gate, my fingers trembling slightly as they grip the metal.

“You are welcome,” he says simply, and then turns to leave.

I watch him for a brief second before heading inside my house. The moment the door closes behind me, the tears I had been holding back burst out uncontrollably. My knees feel weak, and before I know it, I am crying again, my sobs echoing in the silence of my empty house. I toss my bag onto the couch with trembling hands, and it falls open, spilling its contents across the cushions.

My eyes catch on something I had completely forgotten about, the birthday presents. They were still inside, tucked away neatly but now spilling into view. For a moment, I just stand there, frozen. My heart clenches painfully. This should have been a moment of joy. Normally, I would be smiling, tearing the wrapping paper with excitement, celebrating another year of life.

But now, the sight of the presents only reminds me of everything that had gone wrong today. Instead of happiness, all I feel is pain pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

With shaky hands, I sit down on the couch and begin unwrapping the first gift. It was Jude’s present. My heart races, my emotions raw. Inside, I find something that makes my tears fall harder, my favorite watch. The very watch I had admired countless times, always dreaming of owning one someday. And Jude, Jude had made it happen for me, today, on my special day.

I hold the watch carefully, my vision blurred with tears. Then I notice the note. My fingers tremble as I unfold it and read the words written in his familiar handwriting.

“Happy birthday, my love. I hope you will love this gift and wear it often. It will make me so happy. I love you.”

That was all it said, but those words pierced through my heart like a blade. I could not stop myself from crying harder. The pain was unbearable. How could life be this unfair? How could someone who loved me so much now turn away from me because of a lie.?

My chest tightens as I pick up my phone. I hesitate for a moment, fear battling hope, then I dial his number. Jude. The only person I wanted to hear right now, the only person who could heal this gaping wound in my heart. My hand shakes as I press the phone to my ear, silently praying he had switched it on this time.

But my hopes are crushed when the call goes straight to voicemail again. My heart sinks. He clearly wanted nothing to do with me right now. He had never been this angry before, not in the two years we had been together. Not once had I seen him behave this way towards me.

The thought of him walking away from me for good makes me tremble. My stomach churns with dread. What if he never comes back? What if he never believes me? What if this is truly the end?

I press my phone to my chest, closing my eyes tightly, wishing I could erase everything that happened today. I wish I could make him see the truth. But wishing doesn’t change anything.

Slowly, I force myself to stand. My legs feel heavy, my body drained. I walk to the bathroom, dragging my feet with each step. Maybe if I take a shower, the warm water will wash away at least a fraction of this heaviness. Perhaps it will calm me down enough to think clearly.

I needed strength. I needed clarity. Because deep inside, I knew I couldn’t let Jude slip away from my hands. Not like this. Not because of one single lie. A lie that wasn’t even true.

And as the sound of running water fills the bathroom, I place my hands on the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are red and swollen, my face pale and exhausted. But somewhere beneath all the sadness, a small flicker of determination sparks.

I was not going to give up on him. Not now. Not ever.