Lucy once thought she had a loving family and a happy life. But after the divorce, she had nothing. It felt like there was nothing left for Lucy in this world. But then, everything changed when a car nearly hit her. That’s when she met a long-lost friend, and her life began to take a new turn.
The family photo in my hands seemed to hum with forgotten laughter, each smile a painful reminder of what I no longer had.
I brushed the dust from the frame, studying their carefree expressions—so unburdened, so whole. My throat tightened as my thoughts drifted to Harry, my son, who now refused to speak to me. James, my cheating ex-husband, had poisoned him against me, spinning lies that I was the one who walked away.
"Lucy, is everything alright?"
Miss Kinsley’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked, hastily wiping my damp cheeks.
"Yes, just... tired," I lied, forcing a weak smile.
Her gaze softened, but there was a firmness beneath it. "Lucy, I think we need to talk."
My stomach dropped. "Please," I whispered, desperation creeping into my voice. "I’ll work faster, I’ll be more cheerful—just give me another chance."
She sighed. "It’s not about speed. But my son notices things... and this house needs light. I think it’s time for you to focus on healing."
The words crushed me. This job was my lifeline.
"Sometimes," she said gently, "letting go is the only way to move forward."
I nodded numbly, my world fracturing a little more.
Later, lost in memories of simpler days, I barely noticed the blaring horn until it was too late. A car barreled toward me, tires screeching. I lunged forward, straight into a murky puddle.
The driver, a scowling man in a tailored suit, stormed out. "Are you blind? You could’ve wrecked my car!"
Before I could stammer an apology, another voice cut in.
"Glen, enough."
A tall, well-dressed man stepped out, his expression warm with concern. "Are you hurt?"
I shook my head, stunned by his kindness.
"Let me help you," he insisted, guiding me into the car.
His mansion was staggering—gleaming marble, vaulted ceilings. He handed me tea by the fireplace, then introduced his doctor, who confirmed I was fine.
"I should go," I murmured.
"Stay," he said softly. "It’s been too long, Lucy."
I froze. "You know my name?"
A smile tugged at his lips. "Do you remember me?"
I studied his face—the familiar crinkle of his eyes, the way he held himself. Then it hit me.
"George? From high school?"
He laughed. "Twenty-eight years, and you’re just as beautiful."
We reminisced about sneaking out to diners, nearly getting caught skipping class. But when he asked about my life, the truth spilled out—the divorce, Harry’s silence, losing my job.
His hand covered mine. "I’m sorry, Lucy."
Then, quietly, he said, "Remember prom night? When I told you I loved you?"
The memory ached. "I do."
"We can’t change the past," he said. "But we’re here now. Maybe that means something."
A fragile hope flickered in my chest.
"Dinner?" he asked. "Just two old friends catching up."
I laughed. "Only if you promise not to run me over again."
As we smiled at each other, I realized—sometimes life’s worst moments lead to its greatest blessings.
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