I’d once had a crush on a boy at school. Before moving away, I left him a small token only we understood — a braided bracelet we’d made in art class. Years later, back in town, I saw his wife in a café. I recognized her from photos.
She suddenly looked at me and said, “You’re the one who gave him that bracelet, aren’t you?” My heart stopped. I nodded.
She softened. “He wore it for years. When we started dating, he told me about a girl who made him believe in kindness when life was hard. He said you were the first person who really saw him.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I’m just glad he’s happy,” I said.
She smiled and reached across the table. “He is. And I’m glad to finally meet the person who gave him hope when he needed it most.”
We sat there, two women connected by the same boy — realizing that sometimes love isn’t about keeping someone, but leaving them better than you found them.