I laughed. Not politely, not nervously–just genuinely. A deep, surprised laugh that shook my shoulders and made the flowers in my hand tremble slightly. The man in front of me, standing near the chapel’s archway, looked amused.
“What’s so funny?” he asked with a smile.
“Me,” I replied, still chuckling. “And you. This whole thing.””
He stepped closer, hands tucked into his pockets. “So, is that a yes?“}
I shook my head. “No. Definitely not.”}
His brow arched. “No?”
“I’m good being alone,” I said with a soft grin. “I’ve spent most of my life taking care of someone else. I didn’t get to enjoy my youth. I skipped the part where you’re supposed to be selfish and free. So now I want to enjoy myself–alone.“}]
“That sounds like a speech rehearsed many times.“}
I shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s honest.”
He tilted his head. “So you’re married?”
“Divorced,” I corrected. “Recently. Twenty years of… loyalty. And silence. Then nothing.“}
He watched me for a moment. “And now you don’t want to find love?“}]
“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t need it. I don’t even think I believe in it anymore.“}
“Too bad,” he said, his smile fading into something warmer, quieter. “You feel like the one for me.”>
looked at him then–really looked. There was something about him that disarmed me. The way his eyes stayed soft even when his grin turned mischievous. He was teasing, but not mocking. Intrigued, but not pushy.}
I narrowed my eyes. “You always say that to random women you catch walking down an aisle alone?“!
He laughed. “Only once. Today. With you.”>
1 bit back a smile. “Well, that makes me feel special.“@
“You are,” he said.
We started walking. Nowhere in particular, just away from the chapel and toward the nearby park where the trees swayed under the light Parisian breeze. We found a bench near a garden and sat like we’d known each other longer than ten minutes.} Conversation came easy. We talked about the weather. The food. The absurdity of marrying yourself.”
“You know,” he said as I took a sip of water, “you’re surprisingly fun for someone who just rejected me at the altar.”
“I didn’t reject you,” I replied. “I declined with grace.“>
“Oh right,” he grinned. “Big difference.”}
We sat in a moment of easy silence, watching a couple ride past on bicycles, their laughter echoing in the air.}
“I feel like I know you from somewhere,” I said suddenly, frowning slightly.
He looked amused. “You think we’ve met?“>
“No… maybe,” I said, studying his face. “I don’t know. There’s just something familiar.”
He looked at me with the same curiosity. “That’s strange. We’ve been talking all this time, and we never even exchanged names.“”
I blinked. He was right.
“Okay then. I’m Erika.”
He smiled. “Riley.“2
The name hit something in my memory like a switch being flipped.”
I stared at him.
Riley.
“Wait a minute…” I leaned in slightly, squinting as if that would make the memory clearer. “Riley… Alonzo?”
He grinned wider. “Now we’re talking.”
I gasped. “You’re Riley Alonzo? As in… valedictorian Riley? Genius Riley?”
“The one and only.”
“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth, staring at him. “You were the top of our batch. You aced everything. People said you memorized books “%
“I didn’t,” he said with a shrug. “But yeah, that was me.“}
“You were a year ahead of me!”
“You were hard to miss,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “Everyone knew Erika. The girl who won the national design competition. Your sketches were on the hallway bulletin board for months.”
I smiled, the memory so far away it almost didn’t feel like mine. “Wow. I haven’t heard anyone mention that in years.”
“I always wondered what happened to you,” he said. “You were supposed to be the next big thing.”
“I got married,” I said quietly. “Early. I thought I was making the right choice. Then I just stopped. I gave it up.”
He was quiet for a moment. “And now?“E
12:32 PM d
he was quietion aument. ATTU TUW: 3
“Now I’m here. Alone. Trying again.”
0
Riley nodded, thoughtful. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a business card. “Maybe this is a good time, then.”
I took the card and read it.”
Riley Alonzo
Creative Director – Atelier d’Horizon
Paris
I blinked. “You’re a creative director?”
“We’re looking for a designer,” he said casually. “For a capsule collection. We’ve been trying to find someone who thinks differently. And I remember your work. You were never like anyone else.“}}
I stared at the card. “You’re offering me a job?“}
“I’m offering you a chance to start again,” he said. “If you want it.“}
The city moved around us–buses passing, kids laughing, dogs barking–but inside me, something stood still.”
This wasn’t just coincidence. It felt like timing.
I smiled. “You know… I was actually thinking about staying here a little longer.“>
“Good,” he said. “Then maybe next time, you’ll walk down that aisle… with someone beside you.“}
I laughed again, this time lighter. “Don’t push your luck, Riley.“}]
He raised a brow. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
We sat there, two former schoolmates, two grown people with unfinished stories–and maybe, just maybe, the start of something new.
