- 7.
I stood there for a long moment, watching
him in the breeze.
John looked haggard and defeated in his
worn clothes, as if he could crumble at the
slightest touch.
It was the same face I’d loved in my past life,
but the John I knew had always been arrogant
and dismissive.
This humble, almost subservient demeanor
was new.
“Five minutes,” I said, checking my watch, my
voice devoid of warmth.
“I… I’ve been in Miami this whole time,” John
blurted out. “Close to you.”
“I know,” I replied flatly.
He kept looking at me, still searching for a
flicker of emotion. Dejected, he continued,
“Amy, I wasn’t ready to give up. I thought
after all these years, we couldn’t just end
things because of Sarah.”
“I’ve regretted my impulsiveness countless
times. I hate myself for being so weak, for
always thinking about bow Sarah saved my
<
always thinking about how Sarah saved my
father’s life, how I owed her, for using your
secret against you.”
My eyes dulled. I remained silent.
Six months had passed, and he still didn’t
understand why I’d left.
He thought that if he hadn’t revealed my
secret, I might have stayed.
The wind ruffled his hair. It had grown long,
and his beard was unkempt. He looked
nothing like the polished teacher he once
was.
His face was right in front of me, a face I had
seen countless times in my past life, yet now
it seemed blurry, just an outline.
Perhaps love had etched his features into my
memory, and now, without love, only a vague
impression remained.
His voice choked with emotion. “I’ve seen it
these past few months. You’re better off
without me.”
I clutched my coat tighter, watching his tears
with the same detached coldness he’d once
shown me. “John,” I said after a moment, “it
wasn’t just that one thing that made me
leave.”
He looked up at me, his eyes red and filled
with confusion. “I know,” he croaked. “I didn’t
give you enough attention.”
I shook my head. “I could see our future,
John. I could see you still pining for Sarah
<
twenty years from now. This was just a blip, a
temporary pause in your obsession with her.”
He shook his head vehemently. “No, I’ve
realized my feelings. I’ve always just been
grateful to her.”
“Amy, it’s you I love. I’m used to you chattering away beside me. The house is so
quiet, so empty without you…”
This life had brought many unexpected, even
shocking, turns.
John confessing his love was one of them.
I cut him off, my voice calm. “Then get used
to it, because I won’t be there anymore.”
His lips pressed together, his brow furrowed,
not in anger, but in sorrow.
For the first time, I felt a flicker of pity for
him.
He looked down, wanting to speak but unable
