Echoes of What Was
702 Words
Chapter X: Echoes of What Was
The wedding had ended. The music faded, the guests dispersed into laughter and lingering joy. But Noel remained where he stood—still cloaked in shadow, across the street from the chapel, his hands in his pockets, his heart tight in his chest.
For the first time in a long time, he felt... still.
Not busy, not distracted. Just quiet—and painfully aware of everything he’d thrown away.
Susane had gone ahead in a huff. “You can mope, or you can move,” she had snapped, slamming the door of her car. He hadn’t followed.
The wind rustled the leaves above him. Somewhere in the distance, someone cheered for the bride and groom.
Beatrice.
The name stung now. Not because he still had a claim to her—but because he knew he never deserved one in the first place.
He remembered the way she used to light up when talking about new projects. How she stayed late, hoping he’d show up just to walk her home. How she had defended him when people doubted his intentions.
And how he had let her down—over and over.
The affair with Susane had started as a distraction. Excitement. A selfish indulgence. He told himself Beatrice would understand, that she'd forgive, that maybe she didn’t need everything she asked for. That love was enough.
But love without respect was just cruelty in disguise.
He stared at the chapel door one more time and took a deep breath. Then, finally, he walked away.
A week later, Beatrice stepped out of her new office, heels clicking softly on the polished floor of the construction firm’s headquarters. She was in control now—site lead, project strategist, and newlywed. Life felt grounded.
Until she saw the figure waiting near the reception.
Noel.
He stood with his hands wringing the edge of a baseball cap, eyes uncertain. Dressed simply, but with something wounded in his expression.
“Beatrice,” he said, voice low.
She paused, spine straightening. “Noel.”
“I... I heard you got married.”
Her lips curved into a calm smile. “I did.”
“You look good,” he said awkwardly. “Better. Happier.”
“I am.”
He nodded, looked down. “I saw you. At the chapel. I didn’t mean to spy—I just… I don’t even know why I was there.”
She tilted her head. “Closure, maybe?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”
Beatrice folded her arms gently across her chest, eyes soft but steady. “You don’t have to deserve closure, Noel. You just have to accept that some doors stay closed.”
His jaw tensed. “I didn’t know what I had until I lost it.”
“I did,” she said softly. “I knew what I had. And I fought for it. But I was the only one fighting.”
Noel swallowed. “Susane... she’s not—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted. “We’ve both made our choices. Mine led me here. And I’m proud of that.”
He searched her face, like he was hoping to find a flicker of the girl who used to wait for him.
But she wasn’t there.
She had grown into a woman who no longer waited—who built, who chose, who led.
“I hope you find peace, Noel,” she said gently. “I truly do. But whatever you’re looking for—it isn’t with me.”
Noel nodded, his throat tight. “I wish I’d been better.”
“So do I,” she said, then added with grace, “but we both became who we were meant to be. You taught me what I don’t want. And Blake… taught me what I deserved.”
He stepped back, quietly accepting her words as final.
And as he walked away, the echo of her heels receded behind him—steady, powerful, whole.
For the first time, Noel realized it wasn’t Blake who had taken her from him.
It was Beatrice who had walked away.
And she had never looked back.
- Writer
