Prologue
Past Man
I know time is supposed to heal us, that we need time to grow and move on, to find the space to mend ourselves and ease the burdens that make life heavy and painful. However, the sting of heartbreaks can linger, no matter how swiftly time passes. It's crucial to understand that time alone cannot heal us; we must actively allow ourselves to heal and move forward. To aid in our healing journey, we must summon the courage to face life's challenges with bravery.
Courage to acknowledge what was not okay. The sooner we accept that something is amiss, the smoother the healing process becomes. Healing is a gradual journey, and every deep wound requires ample time to mend completely.
And what if? Perhaps, instead of buying time, we simply need to keep moving forward, surpassing the past. But is it worth it? Would it be worth it to return to him?
Returning to him is a difficult decision. It feels like resetting the clock on past heartbreaks. Can I be blamed for wanting to revisit the comfort of yesterday?
The warm sun casts its glow over the sugar-white sand, while the crashing waves serenade the shore. A tiki bar, offering refreshing beach drinks, captures the attention of many, painting scenes of a blissful summer.
Truly, paradise unfolds across twenty-one miles of coastline adorned with expansive sandy beaches, towering peaks, deep canyons, stunning waterfalls, sprawling ranches, and secluded compounds. This is Malibu, a paradise on earth.
With a glass of the signature spicy margarita in hand, complete with a salted rim, I find my way to a coveted table at the far end of the Surfrider's effortlessly chic rooftop deck. The wind picks up, carrying a salty ocean breeze and the lively sounds of beachgoers reveling below.
In the midst of surf season in Malibu, the waves teem with surfers of all levels, eager to ride the area's renowned waves. The century-old pier remains a timeless attraction, drawing visitors year-round. The unending coastline of beach cities offers breathtaking daily sunsets and epic breaks to be savored.
When one thinks of summer, thoughts drift to basking in the sun or enjoying the water in some form. So why not elevate the experience with a spicy margarita?
As I take my first sip, I am met with smoky grey eyes, a tall masculine figure, and a handsome Greek face that has always captivated me in twilight. These striking features bear a resemblance to my past man, or shall I say, my ex. I decide to take more sips to confirm or delve deeper into my observations.
What in the world? This cannot be happening. Oh, dear, it cannot be. No, no, no. It can't be him. Surely, I am simply too inebriated to see him as himself. It can't be true. Oh, it just can't be, for heaven's sake.
No, no, he is not him. I sob desperately, repeating to myself that this is not real but a mere illusion.
No, for heaven's sake, Mione, he is not your past man, not your long-lost paradise. And slowly, tears well up in my eyes as everything fades into obscurity, plunging into darkness.
