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Charlotte left for the city with her widowed mother and brother to chase modeling.
He looked at me over his coffee. “Son, I think you’re still measuring everybody against one girl in a blue dress.”
He wasn’t wrong. And then one stormy night, 20 years later, she showed up carrying my dinner and looking like life had asked too much of her.
***
By dawn, I had made up my mind. I called the restaurant, ordered food, and asked for Charlotte specifically. Then I added a note to the order:
“You forgot something. Come back.”
The second evening, when the bell rang again, my heart kicked so hard it embarrassed me.
Charlotte stood at my door, pale and worried, holding another paper bag.
She showed up carrying my dinner and looking like life had asked too much of her.
“Did I do something wrong?” she rushed out. “Please don’t complain. They’ll fire me.”
“Breathe,” I said gently. “Come inside. You deserve to see what you did.”
Her eyes searched mine as if she were deciding whether I was safe. Then, slowly, she stepped over the threshold.
I closed the door and turned on the lights. Charlotte froze.
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