As I sat flipping through my old school pictures, a wave of memories hit me harder than I expected.
Twenty years had passed.
But somehow… it still felt like yesterday.
There I was—young, hopeful, a little naïve. Pomeline Hale, smiling like life was simple. Under my yearbook photo, a quote I once believed with my whole heart:
“Love takes two to make it real.”
I smiled at it… then my eyes drifted.
Right to him.
Dorian Reed.
The boy who had my heart back then.
The one who never gave it back.
I used to leave him notes. Awkward, sweet, embarrassing little pieces of myself tucked into his locker.
I truly believed we were meant to be.
I had imagined everything—our future, our life, even our wedding.
And then…
He disappeared.
Right before graduation.
No explanation. No goodbye. Nothing.
Just silence.
And somehow, after twenty years, that silence still hurt.
“Ready for the reunion?” Kerensa’s voice snapped me back.
I hesitated.
“I don’t know if I should go.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess… Dorian?”
I sighed. “It still bothers me. I never got closure.”
She softened. “Then maybe tonight… you will.”
The reunion was exactly what you’d expect.
Familiar faces. Forced laughter. Stories stretched a little too far.
And then…
I saw him.
Across the room.
Dorian.
Older. Different. But still him.
Our eyes met.
And he smiled.
Not smug. Not distant.
Just… real.
My chest tightened.
Every unanswered question came rushing back.
Before I could move, Kerensa grabbed my arm.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
Later that night, Kerensa spilled her drink and rushed off to the restroom.
And just like that…
I was alone.
“Pomeline.”
I froze.
I knew that voice.
I turned slowly.
Dorian stood there, hands in his pockets, like he wasn’t sure if he should be standing there at all.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
“Hi,” I replied, my voice thinner than I wanted.
There was a long pause.
Twenty years of silence sitting between us.
Then I said it.
“Why?”
He flinched.
“I waited,” I continued. “For a call. A message. Anything. You just… disappeared.”
He looked down, jaw tight.
“I know,” he said. “And I’m so sorry.”
“That’s it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “After all this time?”
He shook his head.
“No. That’s not it.”
He took a deep breath.
“My dad… he got arrested.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Fraud. Big one. Everything collapsed overnight. We had to leave immediately. My mom… she panicked. We were gone before sunrise.”
My anger flickered.
“But you couldn’t tell me?”
“I tried.”
He swallowed hard.
“I wrote you a letter. I left it in your locker.”
My heart stopped.
“I never got it.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I found out years later… someone else took it. I don’t even know who.”
The room felt like it tilted.
“I thought you ignored me,” he continued. “That you didn’t care. So I… let you go.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“For twenty years,” I whispered.
“For twenty years,” he echoed.
We stood there, both of us wrecked by something neither of us had actually chosen.
All that pain.
All that time.
Because of one missing letter.
“I never stopped wondering about you,” he admitted quietly.
I laughed through tears.
“Me neither.”
For the first time in twenty years…
The silence between us finally broke.
