CHANCES

BOOK 1 As she stared at the only guy she had ever loved,her heart fluttered and she couldn't breathe properly,he was seated across from her eyes focused on a file,he hadn't looked away from it in what seemed like hours. She clutched her bag tightly, what was he doing in 'Heliport'? far away from home,her eyelids felt heavy he wasn't the timid guy who wore glasses anymore he was a fully grown man. "Ma'am,is that all?"it was then she realized she had been lost in thought for minutes. " Don't bother, I'm in a hurry to get something else"she quietly stood and walked away, eyes lowered,she felt guilty,had he come to ruin her?,she got into her car and rode off to work. She was the secretary of 'Melvin Hugart' in the 'Hugart group ' her phone rang that instant she saw it was 'Denise' her boyfriend, suddenly she didn't feel too happy to talk to him,she reluctantly answered the call "Hi babe"he greeted " what's wrong?" " nothing, but I think something's wrong with you, you sound down " "nothing's wrong,why did you call " "are you free tonight?" "I am" she answered "let's have dinner tonight then " "Don't we always do?" "I mean ........ just the both of us " if it had been before she would had been blushing like crazy but now, because of 'justin' she couldn't "fine" "I'll pick you up by eight see you soon" he disconnected the call and she sighed in guilt Denise was too good to be played with. She seemed to remember the first time she and Justin had met #flashback# The rain hammered the platform like a thousand tiny drums, turning the concrete into a glossy mirror that reflected the flickering neon signs of the old station. Steam rose from the tracks, curling around the legs of weary travelers huddled under their umbrellas. In the middle of this damp chorus, a lone violin case rested against a weather‑worn bench, its owner nowhere in sight. He was standing near the edge of the platform, watching the droplets race each other down the glass of the ticket window, when a sudden splash erupts from the opposite side. She was dressed in a navy coat darts forward, her scarf flying, trying to catch a runaway newspaper that’s been swept up by the wind. She slips, lands on her side, and the paper flutters away like a white bird. He instinctively reach out, His hand catching the edge of the paper just before it disappears into the puddle. She looks up, eyes wide and startled, then softens into a grateful smile that seems to cut through the gloom. “Thank you,” she says, voice a little breathless, the rain dripping from the brims of her coat. "I'm Amelia.” He introduce himself, and as the train’s distant rumble grows louder, they both find their selves waiting for the same late‑night express—she’s heading to a small coastal town to visit her ailing grandmother, and he was on his way to a family meeting that feels more like a leap of faith. The rain keeps falling, but the platform suddenly feels co‑warmer. He talked about favorite books, the strange feeling of being stuck in a moment, and the way the city lights blur into watercolor when you’re under an umbrella. Amelia pulls out a small, worn out notebook and flips to a page where she’s sketched a train station—this very one—under a stormy sky. She laughs, admitting she’s been drawing it for weeks, hoping to capture the feeling of “waiting for something that might never come.” The train finally screeches to a halt, its brakes hissing like a sigh. Passengers shuffle forward, but you both linger, reluctant to break the bubble you’ve created. The conductor calls out the final boarding call, and Amelia’s eyes met His, a mixture of excitement and melancholy. “Maybe we’ll meet again,” she says, tucking the notebook into her bag. “Same station, same rain?” smile, feeling the odd certainty that some stories are meant to be paused, not finished. “I’ll bring a bigger umbrella,” He replied. he steps onto the train, waves once, and disappears into the carriage just as the doors close. The rain continues its steady rhythm, but the platform feels different now—like it’s holding a secret promise. #back to present#. Her mind wandered to their memories together................ . The rain had finally stopped, but the streets of the old seaside town still glimmered with a thin sheen of water. Amelia Atkins pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and walked toward the little bookshop that sat at the corner of Harbor and Main. She’d been back in town for a week, tying up loose ends after her mother’s passing, and the familiar scent of old paper and sea salt was a quiet comfort. She hadn’t expected to see him again though she had hoped she would,she couldn't believe her eyes. Yet there he was, leaning against the shop’s weathered doorframe, a coffee in one hand and a battered notebook in the other. Justin Lance looking a little cuter than before,he had a lollipop by the side of his mouth making him look like a little girl.A piece of art. He looked up as she approached, and for a heartbeat the world seemed to pause. The streetlights flickered, casting a soft halo around him, and the distant gulls called out like an old song. “Amelia?” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and something softer—hope, perhaps. She stopped a few steps away, the rain‑slick pavement reflecting the neon sign of the shop behind them. “Justin. I… I didn’t think I’d run into you here.” He gave a half‑smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Me too,we go to the same school,I heard about your mother,I'm really sorry for your loss,but why did you leave home?". She swallowed, feeling the old ache rise but also a strange lightness. “I left because I needed to figure out who I was without the shadows of our past. I didn’t want to be the girl who stayed because she was scared of being alone.” Justin stepped closer, the notebook falling open to a page filled with sketches—tiny, intricate drawings of the town’s lighthouse, the pier, and in the margin, a quick pencil sketch of a woman with a book tucked under her arm, her hair caught in the wind. “That’s you,” he said, pointing to the sketch. “I drew it the night we met at the lighthouse. I never finished it because I was too busy trying to convince myself that I wasn’t falling for you.” Amelia’s breath caught. She remembered that night—the wind howling, the lantern’s beam sweeping over the water, the way his hand had found hers in the darkness. She had thought that moment was a fleeting spark, but the memory had lingered, a quiet ember she’d carried with her. “I was going to give you this,” Justin continued, pulling a small, weather‑worn envelope from his coat pocket. “I wrote it the day after you left. I never sent it because I thought you deserved more than a letter that arrived after I’d already let you go.” He handed it to her. She opened it carefully, the paper thin but sturdy from being folded and unfolded many times. Inside, his handwriting was neat, each word deliberate: *Amelia If you’re reading this, it means the tide has brought us back to the same shore. I spent months convincing myself that I was protecting you from my family’s expectations, from the weight of my name. In truth, I was protecting myself from the possibility of losing you. I’m not asking for a second chance because I think I deserve one, but because I finally understand that love isn’t about fitting into a perfect picture—it’s about choosing each other, flaws and all, every day. If you’re willing, meet me at the lighthouse at sunset tomorrow. No promises, no past—just two people who once found something beautiful in the storm. -love Justin Amelia felt a tear slip down her cheek, but it wasn’t just sadness; it was the sweet ache of a heart that had finally found its way back. She looked up at him, the rain‑kissed town behind them, and the lighthouse in the distance, its beam cutting through the dusk. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, a smile breaking through the tears. “I’ll be there.” He exhaled as if a weight had lifted, and for the first time in years, his shoulders relaxed. “I’ll bring the coffee,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been in months. They stood there for a moment longer, the night air cool and briny, the sound of waves lapping against the shore a gentle rhythm. It wasn’t a grand gesture—just two people, a shared glance, and the promise of a new beginning. The next evening, the sky blazed with shades of orange and pink as the sun slipped behind the horizon. The lighthouse stood tall, its lantern glowing warmly against the growing darkness. Amelia arrived a little early, her hands clasped around a steaming mug, her heart beating a steady, hopeful rhythm. Justin was already there, leaning against the railing, a small picnic basket at his feet. He turned as she approached, his eyes lighting up the way they had years ago. “Coffee?” he offered, holding out the mug. She laughed, the sound mingling with the sea breeze. “Only if you promise not to spill it this time.” He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Deal.” They sat on the weathered steps, sharing stories they’d never told anyone else—about the nights they’d spent watching the stars, the dreams they’d tucked away, the fears that had kept them apart. The lighthouse beam swept over them, a steady, reassuring presence, as if blessing this second meeting. When the night grew deep and the stars were scattered like diamonds across the sky, Justin reached into his jacket and pulled out a tiny, hand‑carved wooden bookmark shaped like a lighthouse. He slipped it into Amelia’s book, his fingers brushing hers. “Consider this a reminder,” he said softly, “that no matter how many storms we face, we’ll always have a light to guide us back to each other.” Amelia’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “I’ve kept the one you gave me that night,” she replied, pulling the original bookmark—a simple sea‑shell—from her pocket. “It’s been my talisman.” They laughed, the sound echoing over the water, and as the lighthouse’s beam rotated, it seemed to wrap around them like a gentle embrace. (note that , Richard lance- Justin's father is also known as Richard hart.)