My 70-year-old grandma got a Valentine’s gift from the only man she ever truly loved—a love she lost fifty years ago.
But when she refused to see him, afraid of what the past might bring, I knew I had to step in.
Could I reunite them after all this time, or was some love meant to stay in the past?
When you’re in a relationship, Valentine’s Day feels like a magical holiday—romance everywhere, couples in love, and happiness all around.
But when you’re single, Valentine’s Day becomes nothing more than a cruel joke, a reminder of how miserable you are—romance everywhere, annoying couples in love, and everyone is happy except you.
It wasn’t just the holiday itself; it was everything leading up to it. I could practically feel the universe mocking me.
Being single, I could no longer stand the sight of all the hearts, plush toys, and flowers.
To escape it all, I decided to visit my grandmother. She lived in a small town where things moved slower, and holidays didn’t feel as overwhelming.
There were still three days left until Valentine’s Day, and I counted each one, waiting for it to be over.
I just wanted life to go back to normal, without the constant reminder of how painfully single I was.
Suddenly, my grandmother’s voice called out from the other room.
“Natalie!” Her voice was sharp, urgent.
“Yes?” I asked, stepping into the room.
She sat in her chair by the window, a letter in her hand.
She held the envelope up, frowning. “I can’t find my glasses. Who is this letter from?”
I took the envelope from her and glanced at the handwriting.
It was neat, careful, unfamiliar.
I turned it over and saw a name scrawled on the back. “It’s from someone named Todd,” I said.
Her expression changed. “Todd?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
“That… that can’t be.”
She snatched the letter from my hands before I could say another word. Her fingers trembled as she tore it open.
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