The Reunion
480 Words
A tall man stood framed in sunlight, his clothes dusty from travel, his dark blond hair disheveled by wind and worry. His chest rose and fell sharply as his eyes swept the room—
—and landed on her.
Everything in him stilled.
His face broke.
“Evelyn.”
Her breath hitched. The way he said her name — raw, reverent, unbelieving — sent a strange shock through her. Something deep within her stirred, a trembling chord struck in a forgotten melody.
He took a step toward her. “My God… it is you.”
James subtly moved between them, protective. “Sir, she has been through a terrible ordeal. Please, calm yourself.”
But the stranger did not move his eyes from her. They were blue — not cold, but burning with emotion so fierce it seemed almost painful.
“Evelyn,” he whispered again, as if afraid she might disappear. “I searched every port. Every shoreline. I thought… I thought you were dead.”
Evelyn’s lips parted. “Do… do I know you?”
The man’s face broke open with grief.
“You’re my fiancée.”
The room froze.
James inhaled sharply. Mrs. Hartley covered her mouth. Evelyn blinked once, twice, as though trying to grasp the meaning of the words.
Fiancée.
Her?
She felt her pulse in her throat. “I— I don’t… remember.”
The man swallowed hard, pain flashing across his features before he mastered it. He stepped forward slowly, carefully, as one might approach a frightened deer.
“It’s Adrian,” he whispered. “Adrian Whitcombe. We grew up together. Our families arranged the match, but we—” His voice cracked. “We loved each other long before they knew.”
Evelyn’s knees weakened. She reached blindly for the back of the chair.
James steadied her instantly.
Adrian’s jaw tightened at the sight, jealousy and heartbreak warring on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I wish I could remember. Truly.”
Adrian’s eyes softened, even as glassy pain shimmered behind them. “It’s all right. I’ll remind you of everything. Every moment. Every promise. I swear to you, Evelyn, I will not lose you again.”
Silence fell — heavy, charged, fragile.
Evelyn looked into the eyes of the man who claimed her heart… and felt the ghost of something. Not memory, not recognition — but a familiar ache, like an echo calling from a great distance.
A longing she didn’t understand.
Yet beside her, James stood stiffly, quietly wounded, a protective shadow she had come to trust.
Two men.
Two worlds.
And a past that had just shattered her present.
Evelyn whispered, barely audible, “What… what am I supposed to do?”
Neither man had an answer.
Only the sea outside seemed to know — its waves rising and falling like the breath of fate itself.
- Writer
