Henry.
I’m here.
Staring at the place where she will be married in a matter of minutes… or hours… I don’t know.
I’m uncertain if I want to step in. I’m unsure if I want to disrupt this wedding. Deep down, I want to, every fiber of me yearns for it, but I don’t want to hurt her again.
These years have been excruciating. How did I live without her? In truth, I didn’t. For so long, I haven’t breathed, haven’t felt, nothing.
I tried convincing myself that I didn’t need her. That I never truly loved her. That I wasn’t happy with her. But it was just a futile attempt to move on or rather, to let her move on.
Regret fills me for being here. I should be at a bar right now, drowning my sorrows for what I lost, for what could have been, for my wretched life, for my fate.
How audacious of me to show up after five years. She’ll probably see me, maybe kick me out, or worse, she’ll look at me, smile, say she forgives me, and then marry that man, relegating me to a mere memory.
Every step closer makes me feel oddly better, knowing she might be mere feet away makes my heart race.
Upon entering the venue’s reception, a timid woman approaches. Her timidity annoys me.
“Excuse me… Are you a guest of Miss Anna’s and Mr. Dave’s wedding?” she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
I gift her one of my most charming smiles, and she blushes.
“Yes, in fact I…”
Before I can continue with my lie, she glances down, prompting me to do the same. A child is tugging at her skirt. When she looks into his face, he smiles, and a lump forms in my throat. What’s happening to me?
“I need the bride’s purse,” the boy says in a sweet, high-pitched voice.
She nods, moving behind the counter.
I kneel down to be face-to-face with him. He gives me a suspicious look, then realizes I’m mirroring his expression. He’s so small, and I have this strange urge to embrace him, which is odd because I’ve never felt this way towards a child, especially a stranger’s. I’m losing my mind.
“Who are you?” he inquires hesitantly, as though recognizing me.
“Henry,” I reply curtly.
“Are you a friend of my mom’s?”
“I don’t know who your mother is.”
“Oh, so you’re with Dave.”
“I don’t know him either, kid.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I came to see the bride.”
Still eyeing me warily, the boy then smiles, grabs my jacket, and leads me down a corridor lined with lights and doors.
He stops in front of one and enters without hesitation.
There she is. An angel in white. The same woman, just with beautiful blonde hair.
Time seems to slow. A flurry of conflicting emotions surge within me. I feel the need to run, to smash something, to escape, yet I also yearn to hold her, to apologize, to touch her.
I’ve missed her profoundly. She’s the sole reason I want to fight, to live, to breathe. She’s the only thing that ever made me happy, and I know now I can never let her go.
She kneels down, continuing to gaze straight at me, clearly in shock. I see the glossy sheen in her eyes, and if a single tear rolls down her cheek, I know I’ll break down too.
“Mommy!” the boy shouts, rushing to her side with concern.
Mommy? What does he mean by “Mommy”? My world crumbles then and there.
Is that child Anna’s?
Anna collapses. I move to lift her, but a hand stops me, pushing me back. I kneel beside Anna, touching her cheek, and a wave of warmth rushes through me, revitalizing me.
“Henry, you need to leave now. If Anna’s mother sees you, there’s going to be trouble,” Alison warns.
“I can’t just leave her here like this…” I mutter through gritted teeth.
“Anna’s mother is leaving on a cruise with her husband this afternoon. You’ll be free to chase after her for two weeks, and she won’t tell her fiance who you are either.”
“Is he mine?” I glance at the boy who is now touching his mother’s face, crying and terrified.
Alison nods, and I look upwards, cursing internally. “Damn it, what have I done?”
“Hey, champ, your mom will be okay. Don’t be scared,” I assure the child, who nods repeatedly, trying to hold back his tears. Like him, I can’t help but cry too.
This beautiful child is ours. He belongs to Anna and me. I can’t believe what a mess I’ve made of things. I stand up, taking one last look at Alison.
“Thank you for finding me.”
She winks at me, smiling, but her expression changes to one of sternness. “Still, I hate you for what you did to her. She might forgive you, but me? Forget it.”