**Diary Entry**
She was gone, and he realised far too late that she had been the only one he truly loved.
Edward sat in his car, staring at the entrance to the pub. His hands trembled, though he barely noticed. His ears rang with tension. Tonight was the school reunion—twenty years since they’d graduated. Twenty years since he’d destroyed what might have been his only shot at real happiness.
Back then, he’d been convinced Emily was cheating. A photo with what he’d assumed was her new flame had gutted him. She never defended herself. Never said a word. He’d screamed, hurled accusations, poured out every bitter thought inside him. And then she left. Quietly. No shouting, no explanations.
Six months later, he married Charlotte. Not for love—out of spite. To prove to Emily he could be happy without her. Except he wasn’t. The marriage was hollow, a lifeless routine. Everything looked right on paper—wife, child, career. But his heart stayed silent.
Tonight, he’d see her again. Emily. The one who’d always been *the* one.
He stepped inside and felt her before he even saw her. That laugh, that effortless grace. She was breathtaking—a floral dress, curls cascading over her shoulders, that steady gaze. And just like that, his world turned upside down again.
“Emily,” he called as she stepped outside to take a call.
“Yes, Eddie?” Her voice was calm, almost teasing.
“I need to know. How did you live… without me?”
“Are you sure you want that answer?” No pain in her words—just exhaustion, deep and weathered.
“I can’t do this without you. Without *us*.”
“There *is* no *us*, Eddie. Not anymore.”
“What about our child?” The words tore out of him.
Emily went pale. She shut her eyes, then spoke low and firm.
“You mean the baby I lost after your accusations? The one I couldn’t save because I was too broken to stop crying? Yes, I was pregnant. But you swore it wasn’t yours. You believed a photo—not me. Not your own heart. Only Charlotte.”
He hung his head. He’d destroyed it all.
“I survived, Eddie. Broken, burned—but I survived. I left. Started over. A man helped me—one who saw me, not my mistakes, not my past. Just *me*. We have two adopted children now. They’ve been mine from day one. And I’m happy.”
“Forgive me.”
“For what? For tearing me apart? I forgave you. Myself took longer. But I’m not her anymore. I’m not yours. You realised too late who you lost.”
She turned and walked away. Light steps, straight back, unshaken. Everything he’d failed to protect.
And he stood there, amid the parked cars, heart shattered, knowing—some things can’t be undone. Sometimes it’s too late. Even if you carry someone in your heart forever, to them, you’re nothing now.
**Lesson learnt:** Pride costs too much. By the time you swallow it, the person who mattered may already be gone.
