**The Gaze of Green Eyes from the Past**
I woke at dawn, a rare moment of deep, untroubled sleep. Where was I? In a haystack, out in the open, no comforts, no warm blanketnot that I needed one. It was summer, the air sweet with the scent of fresh hay.
I brushed the straw away and sat up. My mind was clear, no weight of sorrow over the split with my wife. Had I ever truly loved her? Ten years togetherwas it all just an illusion of family life? We got by well enough, though we never had children. Vera had a daughter, mind you, but shed always said she didnt know who the father was. Had the child just for herself.
Thered always been something forced about Veras affectiontoo many rows. After each one, my thoughts would drift back to a pair of green eyes, bright as emeralds, and the tender smile of Mary, the nurse whod tended to me in hospital. Back then, Id been wounded in action, serving overseas.
Sitting in that haystack, I smiled, remembering her gentle voice, her chestnut hair. Eyes like hersId never seen the like since. Shed been my anchor through the pain.
On the day I was discharged, I gathered wildflowers and went to find her, ready to ask her to come home with me. But when I reached the ward
“Marys gone,” another nurse told me. “Transferred to another medical unit.”
“Where?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No one can say. You know how it is.”
I left, heavy-hearted, but determined to find her. How, though? All I had was a name and the memory of those eyes. Home I went, discharged on medical grounds. Nothing had changedmy father still drank, my mother still scolded.
Then my old mate Leo turned up one day. Wed served together, seen too much. He clapped me on the back.
“Alright, Max? Healing up all right?”
“Getting by,” I shrugged.
“Come down to my village,” he said. “No work for you here. Unless theres someone keeping you?”
I shook my head. “No one. Just Mary.”
“Ah,” he sighed. “Got you good, didnt she? Keep looking, lad. Dont give up.”
So I went with him, settled into a little cottage, fixed it up. Time passed. Leo fell for a girl named Lizzie, moved to town.
“Sorry, Max,” he said before leaving. “Dragged you out here, and now Im off myself.”
“Dont fret,” I laughed. “Might be Ive got a wife lined up too.”
Vera. Id proposed.
Now, standing in the fields, the memory of last night returnedVeras sharp voice cutting through the quiet.
“Youll never find another like me,” shed spat. “No woman would put up with you. Your moods, your broodingits pathetic. Ive got a proper man now, one who actually loves me.”
She called my quiet spells *”moods”*those times when the past pressed down, and I needed solitude. She couldnt stand it, always poking, prodding, until it turned into a row.
Yesterday, she finally said what Id long suspected. I listened in silence, packed my bag, and left as curses followed me into the night.
StrangeI thought Id rage, scream, accuse. But I was calm. Relieved, even.
I walked until dusk, then turned into a field, burrowed into a haystack, and slept deeply for the first time in months. No dreams, just peace.
At dawn, I set off for town, bought a bottle of wine and chocolates for Lizzie. Leo answered the door, grinning.
“Max! About time!”
Inside, their boy Nicky clung to me, laughing. Lizzie waddled in, her belly round.
“Another on the way?” I asked.
She grinned. “A little girl.”
We sat at the kitchen table, reminiscing. Leo kept glancing at Lizzie, who finally blurted out
“Max, weve been meaning to tell you Marys alive. Shes been writing. She never marriedsays she never found another like you.”
The words hit like a bolt. My hands shook.
Leo took over. “Didnt want to stir things up while you were with Vera. But now well, Lizzie tracked her down. Shes waiting for you.”
On the train, I clutched Marys letter, reading it again and again. Outside, the countryside rushed past. After all these years, she still loved me. And I was finally going to her.
Funny thingsometimes the past doesnt stay buried. It finds you, just when you need it most.
