In the photograph, there was a young, beautiful woman with a wide smile and lively eyes. But that wasn’t what made me freeze. It was the fact that the woman in the picture was me.
I felt the blood rush from my cheeks. I took the frame with trembling hands, convinced that I might not be seeing clearly. But no, there was no mistake. It was a picture taken many years ago, on a mountain trip with my husband and children. A long-lost photo.
— “Where did you get this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Radu looked at me, then sighed deeply, as if he had been carrying a heavy burden on his soul.
— “Because… I met you a long time ago. A very long time ago. You just… don’t remember.”
I was stunned. I looked at him, trying to find a corner of memory in his eyes. Nothing. Just that strange feeling of familiarity that had been haunting me from the start.
— “We first met almost 40 years ago,” he continued. “I was a student, and you worked at the bookstore downtown. You sold me a book, ‘Maitreyi’. I told you then that you resembled her. You liked the compliment, but you laughed and told me you were already married.”
I was left speechless. Indeed, I had worked at the bookstore in my youth. How much time had passed since then… How could he still remember?
— “After that, I went abroad. I didn’t hear anything about you. Until a month ago, when I saw you by chance in a café. I knew immediately it was you. I couldn’t help myself…”
I felt my eyes welling up. All the memories of my life, everything I thought was lost, seemed to blend into a strange dream.
— “But why didn’t you tell me who you were?” I asked almost in a whisper.
— “Because you wouldn’t have come with me. You wouldn’t have accepted. But I needed to see you, to talk to you. To tell you that… I never forgot you.”
A heavy silence fell between us. I didn’t know what to believe, what to feel. In my soul, shame mixed with a strange emotion, a warmth that hadn’t found a place in years.
I stood up, looked out the window — the city was waking up, and the sun timidly shone through the curtains. “Maybe it’s too late for regrets,” I said softly.
He moved closer to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe it’s never too late for a new beginning.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. In all the chaos in my mind, I felt for the first time, after a long time, that I was truly alive. The past, age, and mistakes no longer mattered. In front of me was a man who saw me differently than anyone else — and who, despite the years, recognized my soul.
I smiled slightly.
— “Then… let’s start with a coffee.”
He laughed, and that warm laughter filled the room with light. Perhaps life, even at 60, still has surprises. And maybe some encounters are not coincidental — but merely postponed by fate until we are ready to truly live them.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of the events or for how the characters are portrayed and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
