Then laughing again in a way I hadn’t in years.
My daughter noticed the change.
“Mom, you seem happier.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
I smiled. “I reconnected with an old friend.”
She raised an eyebrow.
I blushed.
Six months later, Walter looked at me across the table at our favorite diner.
“Debbie, I don’t want to waste any more time.”
My heart skipped.
“What do you mean?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
“I know we’re not kids anymore.
I know we’ve both lived whole lives without each other. But I also know that I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left without you.”
He opened the box.
Inside was a simple gold band with a small diamond.
I started crying happy tears. The kind I thought I’d never cry again.
“Yes!
Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Our wedding was small and sweet.
My daughter and son were there. A few close friends. People who kept saying how beautiful it was that love could come back around.
I wore a cream-colored dress.
I’d spent weeks planning every detail myself.
The flowers. The music. The vows I’d written by hand.
I wanted everything to be perfect.
Because this wasn’t just a wedding.
It was proof that my life wasn’t over. That I could still choose happiness.
Walter wore a navy suit. He looked so handsome, yet so nervous.
When the officiant said, “You may kiss the bride,” Walter leaned in and kissed me gently.
Everyone clapped.
For the first time in 12 years, my heart felt full.
Everything felt perfect.
Then, while Walter was across the room, a young woman I didn’t recognize walked straight toward me.
She couldn’t have been more than 30.
Her eyes fixed on mine as if she’d been searching for me.
She stopped close enough that only I could hear.
“Debbie?”
“Yes?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Walter, then back at me.
My heart raced.
“What?”
Before I could say anything else, she slipped a folded note into my hand.
The words haunted me:
“Go to this address tomorrow at 5 p.m., please.”
Below was an address. Nothing else.
“Wait, who are you? What are you talking about?”
But she was already walking away.
She turned back once at the door and nodded at me.
Then she was gone.
I stood there, frozen.
I looked up at Walter across the room. He was laughing with my son. Looking so happy.
So innocent.
I couldn’t focus for the rest of the reception.
I smiled, laughed, and cut the cake.
But inside, I was terrified.
What was Walter hiding? Who was that woman?
Had I made a terrible mistake?
I excused myself and went to the bathroom.
“You need to know the truth,” I whispered to my reflection.
Whatever it was, I couldn’t ignore it. I’d spent 12 years running from life.
I wasn’t going to run anymore.
I made a decision right then.
I would go to that address and face whatever was waiting for me.
Even if it broke my heart.
That night, lying in bed beside Walter, I couldn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about the note.
What if he wasn’t who I thought he was? What if this whole thing had been a lie?
I’d just started to be happy again. I’d just started to feel alive.
What if I were about to lose it all?
The next day, I lied to Walter.
“I’m going to the library.
Just need to return some books.”
He smiled and kissed my forehead.
“Don’t be gone too long. I’ll miss you.”
I got in my car and sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel.
Part of me wanted to tear up the note and forget about it.
But I couldn’t. I’d made a choice to face life head-on.
That meant facing the truth, whatever it was.
I drove to the address on the note.
What was I going to find?
Some terrible truth that would destroy everything?
At my age, love felt borrowed. Like it could be taken away at any moment.
I had just learned how to be happy again. I didn’t know if I could survive another goodbye.
But I had to know.
When I pulled up to the address, I froze.
It was a building I recognized.
My old school.
The one where Walter and I had met all those years ago.
Except it wasn’t a school anymore.
It had been turned into a restaurant. A beautiful one with big windows and string lights.
I sat in my car, confused.
I got out slowly and walked to the entrance. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
For a moment, I stood alone in front of the door.
Taking a breath. Preparing myself.
Then I pushed it open.
The moment I did, confetti rained down on me.
Streamers popped. Balloons floated everywhere.
Music filled the air.
Not just any music. Jazz. The kind I used to love when I was a teenager.
Everyone was clapping.
My daughter was there.
My son. Friends I hadn’t seen in years.
The crowd parted.
And there was Walter.
His arms spread wide open. A huge smile on his face.
“Walter?
What is this?”
He walked toward me, tears in his eyes.
“Do you remember the night I had to leave town? The night my father got transferred?”
“Of course I do. You were supposed to take me to prom.”
“But I never got the chance.”
“No.
You left two days before.”
He took my hands. “I’ve regretted that for 54 years, Debbie. When you told me last year that you’d never gone to prom, that you’d always regretted it, I knew what I had to do.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Walter…”
“I couldn’t give you prom when we were teenagers.
But I can give it to you now.”
The young woman from the wedding stepped forward.
“I’m Jenna. I’m an event planner. Walter hired me to put this all together.”
I looked around.
The room was decorated like a 1970s prom. Disco balls. Retro posters.
Even a punch bowl.
My daughter walked up and hugged me.
“We’ve been planning this for months, Mom. Walter wanted it to be perfect.”
I couldn’t speak. I just stood there and cried.
Walter held out his hand.
The music started.
A slow jazz song I remembered from high school.
Walter pulled me close.
We swayed together in the middle of the room.
Everyone was watching, but I didn’t care.
For a moment, we weren’t in our 70s. We were 16 again. Back when anything felt possible.
“I love you, Debbie,” Walter whispered.
“I love you too.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t be.
We had good lives. We loved good people. But this?
This is our time now.”
He kissed me. Right there in front of everyone.
And I kissed him back.
Later, after the music slowed and people started saying their goodbyes, I sat with Walter at one of the tables.
He smiled.
“You mentioned it once. Just casually.
You said you always regretted not going to prom. And I thought, why not? Why can’t we have it now?”
“But all of this?
The planning? The secrecy?”
“I had help. When you said you were heading to the library, I guessed you’d follow your heart.
I just made sure I arrived here before you did.”
I looked at Walter. At his kind eyes. At the man who’d spent months planning this just to make me happy.
“For what?”
“For reminding me that it’s never too late for second chances.”
At 71, I finally went to prom.
And it was perfect.
Love doesn’t come back.
It waits. And when you’re ready, it’s still there, exactly where you left it.
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