A FACE FROM THE PAST

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The city noise faded into the background. It seemed like people walking past me suddenly disappeared. I can't describe how I felt; I felt ashamed and hopeful at the same time.

All I could see was Lucas Bennett standing in front of me. Ten whole years had passed since I had last seen him.

Back then, we were inseparable. Back then, life had been simple. Back then, I still believed happy endings were real. Now he was looking at me as if he couldn't recognize that I was the woman sitting before him.

Honestly, I couldn't blame him. I barely recognized myself either. "Lucas..." My voice came out weak.

He looked devastated. I could already sense pity. The concern in his eyes only grew. "Where have you been?"

I almost laughed, though. Of all the things he could have said, that was the one he chose. "Where have you been too?"

He smiled at me. "Fair enough.”

For a brief second, it seemed like all those years had disappeared. I saw the boy I used to know—the boy who always stole my lunch, the boy who used to pull my pigtails and then run for his life, the boy who once promised he would never let anyone make me cry.

Memories of us flashed back to me, and my chest was already starting to feel heavy. Life had changed too much since then.

Lucas glanced at the hospital bill lying near my feet. I quickly bent down and picked it up. I felt so ashamed; embarrassment flooded me. I folded the paper and shoved it into my bag.

He pretended as if he hadn't already seen it—pretending he hadn't seen me crying, pretending he hadn't seen the woman I had become.

"I didn't mean to pry," he said gently.

"It's fine."

It wasn't fine, but I didn't have the energy to explain. Lucas looked at me. He stared carefully at me. He wasn't staring in a judgmental way or in the way strangers did. He wasn't staring in the way I judged myself every morning.

His gaze felt different, like he was trying to understand something. That somehow made me feel worse because understanding me would make him see the truth, and the truth isn't funny.

"You look tired, Amelia."

I forced a smile.

"That's a polite way of saying I look terrible." His expression changed instantly.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

The smile vanished from my face. Silence stretched between us. Lucas finally broke the silence; he sighed. "Come have coffee with me."

I blinked at him. "What?"

"Coffee."

"I should go home," I said hurriedly.

"You don't want to go home."

The words hit harder than they should have because they were true. He was right; I didn't want to go home. My home was an empty mansion. My home was more like eating dinner alone. My home was waiting for a husband who barely noticed me. My home was literally loneliness.

Lucas seemed to read the answer on my face.

"One coffee."  

I hesitated a little; then I nodded.  

"One coffee."

He smiled at me again, and something inside me unexpectedly warmed.

---

The café was only a few blocks away. I almost turned back three different times. Every reflective surface we passed made me painfully aware of myself.

Lucas looked successful, confident, and well put together. Meanwhile, I looked like someone who had given up. Maybe because I had.

When we entered the café, several women immediately looked in Lucas's direction.

Of course, they did. He was tall, handsome, and well-dressed.  

He was the kind of man people noticed.  

The kind of man who belonged in places like this.

I felt painfully out of place beside him.  

Lucas ordered coffee for both of us before I could protest. When we sat down, he leaned back in his chair.

So.  

I stared into my cup.  

"So."  

He laughed. The sound of that surprised me. I couldn't remember the last time I had heard genuine laughter, probably because Ryan never laughed anymore. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.  

Lucas tilted his head.  

"What happened after college?"  

I shrugged.  

"I got married."  

"I know." He answered almost immediately, and that caught my attention.  

"You know?"  

"I heard about it."  

He looked at me.  

"Ryan Carter."  

I nodded.  

For some reason, saying Ryan's name felt strange. It was like mentioning a distant relative instead of my husband.  

Lucas remained silent. He was waiting for me to speak.  

Eventually, I sighed.  

"Things aren't exactly perfect."  

He took a little sip from his cup.

"I figured that out.”  

The words slipped out before I could stop them.  

"We lost three babies."  

Lucas raised his head in shock. The café suddenly felt too loud and too quiet at the same time.  

Lucas froze; shock flashed across his face.  

From a shocked expression, Lucas transitioned to a sad one.  

He felt really sad, not pity or discomfort; he was very sad.  

The kind of sadness people feel when they genuinely care.  

"Oh, Amelia."  

I looked away immediately.  

"I don't want sympathy," I replied softly.  

"You won't get sympathy."  

I frowned at him. Because what was he trying to insinuate?  

Lucas leaned forward, resting his coffee on the table.  

"You'll get honesty."  

I looked back at him. He continued.  

"You survived something most people couldn't."  

My throat tightened.  

No one had ever said that to me before.  

Most people acted like my miscarriages were failures.  

They acted like my body had betrayed everyone.  

Lucas continued.  

"And you're still here.”

I started blinking rapidly. My tears had started to pile up. Just a few more blinks to unleash them.

"Some days, barely," I managed to speak.

His expression broke my heart because it was the same expression someone would wear after finding an injured animal. He didn't look disgusted or judge me like others do; he looked concerned. I haven't felt like this in years.

---

Two hours passed before I realized how much time had gone by. I couldn't remember the last time I'd spent two uninterrupted hours talking to someone, especially someone who actually listened.

When my phone vibrated, I instinctively reached for it. My hope flared instantly, but my heart sank immediately. I thought it was Ryan, but it wasn't him.

There were no messages and no missed calls. Lucas noticed it immediately. He briefly looked at the screen but didn't ask me any questions. For some reason, that made me appreciate him even more. He wasn't forcing answers out of me; he was simply here.

When we finally left the café, the sun was beginning to set.

"I should go," I said to him, turning in his direction.  

Lucas nodded.

"I'll drive you."

"No," I replied immediately.  

His eyebrow rose.

"No?"

"I can get home."

"You can."  

He smiled at me.  

"But I'm still driving you."

To my annoyance, I laughed. I actually laughed. Why was I laughing? My reaction always betrays my mood.  

The sound of my laughter shocked both of us because I couldn't remember the last time it happened.

Lucas looked pleased. He looked very pleased, as if he had accomplished something important.

---

The mansion came into view several minutes later.  

Lucas slowed the car. His eyes widened slightly.

"You live here?"  

I nodded.  

He whistled softly.  

"Remind me why you're worried about hospital bills?"

The joke hit a little too close to home. I looked away. Lucas immediately regretted saying it.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay.”

It wasn't. Nothing was okay, but I was tired of talking about money. The car stopped. Neither of us moved immediately. The silence between us felt strangely comfortable.

Lucas finally spoke.

"Can I see you again?"

"What?"  

He smiled.

"As friends."

Friends. The word should have felt simple.  

Instead, it stirred something complicated inside me because I couldn't remember the last time I had a friend—a real friend.

He didn't want something from me. He didn't judge me either. He just wanted to be friends.

Slowly, I nodded.  

"I'd like that."

His smile widened. Seeing him happy made me smile too. Then I stepped out of the car. I expected him to drive away. Instead, he waited until I reached the front door, just like he used to when we were kids.

My chest tightened unexpectedly. Some people changed; some people didn't.

---

The house was dark, silent, and empty. My smile vanished immediately. Reality snapped back to me. I kicked off my shoes and entered the kitchen. There was no dinner, no note, no husband; nothing.

I checked the clock: 8:43 PM. Ryan still wasn't home. My chest ached a little. I shouldn't have cared. Yet somehow, I still did.

I opened the refrigerator, then closed it. I opened it again, then closed it.

I wasn't hungry. For once, I wasn't. I mean, food was my only therapy. Instead, I found myself replaying the afternoon: Lucas's smile, Lucas's laughter, Lucas asking how I was doing. Simple things. Normal things. Things a husband should probably ask.

The realization left me feeling guilty. I headed upstairs. Halfway through changing into my pajamas, I heard the front door open. Ryan is home. My heart reacted stupidly and pathetically, the same way it always did.

A few minutes later, he entered our bedroom. His tie was loosened, and his face looked exhausted.

Yet somehow, he still managed to look annoyingly handsome.  

Ryan glanced at me, then at the room… and back at me.

"You're awake."  

I stared at him. That was it. No "How was your day?"  

No "Where were you?" Nothing; just "You're awake."  

Honestly, I wasn't even surprised.

"Obviously," I said sarcastically.  

His eyes narrowed slightly. That was a rare reaction. Ryan set his briefcase down.

"I had meetings," he said.

"I didn't ask you."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.  

Both of us froze.  

Because I never snapped. Ever.

Surprise flashed across his face.  

Then he looked confused… then irritated.  

"I wasn't aware I needed permission to explain my schedule."

I laughed bitterly.

No. You don't need permission."  

Ryan stared at me as though he couldn't figure out what was wrong. That almost made me laugh again. How could he not know? How could he look at me every day and not know?

Eventually, he walked into the bathroom.  

The conversation ended. Just like that. As if nothing mattered. As if I didn't matter.

---

Much later, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Ryan slept beside me,  

close enough to touch; far enough to feel like a stranger.

My phone suddenly vibrated. I glanced at the screen.  

It was a message from Lucas. I smiled before I could stop myself.  

Then I opened his message. His message was very short, but it made my chest tighten.  

Because nobody had asked me this in a very long time. Not even my husband.

Lucas's message read:  

"Did you eat dinner?”

I stared at the screen. Then I looked at the man sleeping beside me. One of them had known me for less than a day. The other had been my husband for years. Yet somehow, only one of them remembered to ask if I had eaten. I couldn't stop myself from smiling, though I felt a little guilty.

Before I could answer, another message appeared. This one made my blood run cold because it wasn't from Lucas. The message was from an unknown number.

Attached to the message was a photograph—a photograph of Ryan.

Ryan was entering a restaurant, smiling. He was sitting across from a beautiful woman. My hands began to shake. Then I read the message beneath the picture; my entire world tilted.

"Your husband has been meeting her for months.”