I came to the island searching for peace, a fresh start to heal from my past. Instead, I found HIM—charming, attentive, and everything I didn’t know I needed. But just when I started to believe in new beginnings, a single moment shattered it all.
Even though I’d spent decades there, my living room felt like a stranger’s space. At 55, I stared at the open suitcase, wondering how my life had come to this.
“How did we get here?” I asked the chipped “Forever & Always” cup in my hand before tossing it aside.
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I ran my hand along the couch. “Goodbye to Sunday coffee and pizza fights.”
Memories buzzed in my mind, unwelcome guests I couldn’t evict. In the bedroom, the emptiness hit harder. The other side of the bed stared back at me like an accusation.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “It wasn’t all my fault.”
Packing became a scavenger hunt for things that still mattered. The laptop sat on my desk like a beacon.
“At least you stuck around,” I said, patting it.
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After two years of work, my novel was inside. It wasn’t finished, but it was mine—proof I wasn’t entirely lost.
Then, Lana’s email came:
“Creative retreat. Warm island. Fresh start. Wine.”
“Of course, wine,” I laughed.
Lana had always been good at making disasters sound appealing. The idea felt reckless, but wasn’t that the point?
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I stared at the flight confirmation. My inner voice was relentless.
What if I hate it? Or if they hate me? What if I fall into the ocean and get eaten by sharks?
But then another thought crept in.
What if I enjoy it?
I exhaled and closed the suitcase. “Here’s to running away.”
I wasn’t running away. I was running toward something.
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***
The island greeted me with a warm breeze and the rhythmic sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore. For a moment, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill my lungs.
This is exactly what I needed.
But the peace didn’t last. As I approached the retreat, the serenity of the island was replaced by loud music and bursts of laughter. People mostly in their 20s and 30s lounged on brightly colored beanbags, holding drinks that seemed more umbrella than liquid.
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“Well, this isn’t exactly a monastery,” I muttered under my breath.
A group near the pool burst into laughter so loud it startled a bird from a nearby tree. I sighed.
Creative breakthroughs, huh, Lana?
Before I could retreat into the shadows, Lana appeared, her sunhat tilted at a jaunty angle and a margarita in hand.
“Thea!” she shouted, as though we hadn’t emailed just yesterday. “You made it!”
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“Regretting it already,” I murmured but plastered on a smile.
“Oh, stop,” she said, waving a hand. “This is where the magic happens! Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“I was hoping for something… quieter,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Nonsense! You need to meet people and soak in the energy! Speaking of which,” she grabbed my arm, “I have someone you must meet.”
Before I could protest, she dragged me through the crowd. I felt like a frumpy mother at a high school party, trying not to trip over discarded flip-flops.
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We stopped in front of a man who, I kid you not, looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ. Sun-kissed skin, a relaxed smile, and a white linen shirt unbuttoned just enough to be suggestive but not sleazy.
“Thea, meet Eric,” Lana said with excitement.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thea,” he said, his voice as smooth as the ocean breeze.
“Likewise,” I said, hoping my nervousness didn’t show.
Lana beamed as if she’d just set up a royal engagement. “Eric’s a writer, too. He’s been dying to meet you since I told him about your novel.”
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My cheeks flushed. “Oh, it’s not finished.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Eric said. “The fact that you’ve poured yourself into it for two years… that’s incredible! I’d love to hear about it.”
Lana smirked and backed away. “You two talk. I’ll find more margaritas!”
I glared after her. But in a few minutes, whether it was Eric’s undeniable charisma or the enchanting ocean breeze playing tricks on me, I found myself agreeing to a walk.
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“Give me a moment,” I said, surprising even myself.
Back in my room, I rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out my most flattering sundress.
Why not? If I’m going to be dragged around, I might as well look good doing it.
When I stepped outside, Eric was waiting. “Ready?”
I nodded, trying to act casual, even as my stomach did an uncharacteristic flutter. “Lead the way.”
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Eric showed me parts of the island that seemed untouched by the chaos of the “retreat.” A secluded beach with a swing hanging from a palm tree, a hidden trail leading to a cliff with a breathtaking view—places that weren’t in any guidebook.
“You’re good at this,” I said, laughing.
“Good at what?” he asked, sitting on the sand nearby.
“Making someone forget they’re wildly out of place.”
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His smile widened. “Maybe you’re not as out of place as you think.”
As we talked, I laughed more than I had in months. He shared stories of his travels and love for literature, which matched mine. His admiration for my novel felt sincere, and when he joked about framing my autograph one day, I felt a warmth I hadn’t in a long time.
But beneath the laughter, something tugged at the edge of my thoughts. A faint unease I couldn’t explain. He seemed perfect, too perfect.
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***
The next morning started on a high note. I stretched, my mind buzzing with ideas for the next chapter of my novel.
“Today’s the day,” I murmured, reaching for my laptop.
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I woke it up. But when the desktop appeared, my heart stopped. The folder where my novel had lived—two years of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights—was gone. I searched every corner of the hard drive, hoping I had misplaced it. Nothing.
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“That’s odd,” I said to myself.
My laptop was there, but the most important part of my life’s work had disappeared without a trace.
“Okay, don’t freak out,” I whispered, clutching the edge of the desk. “You probably just misplaced it.”
But I knew I hadn’t. I bolted out of the room and headed straight to Lana. As I passed the hallway, muffled voices caught my attention. I froze, my heart pounding. Slowly, I moved toward the sound. The door to the next room was slightly ajar.
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“We just need to pitch it to the right publisher?” he said.
My blood ran cold. Eric’s voice was unmistakable. Peeking through the gap, I saw Lana leaning in, her voice a low hum of conspiracy.
“Her manuscript is brilliant,” Lana said, her tone syrupy. “We’ll figure out how to position it as mine. She’ll never know what hit her.”
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My stomach churned with anger and betrayal, but also something worse—disappointment. Eric, who’d made me laugh, listened to me, and who I’d started to trust, was part of that.
I turned away before they could see me and headed to my room. I slammed my suitcase shut, stuffing clothes into it haphazardly.
“This was supposed to be my fresh start,” I whispered bitterly.
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My vision blurred, but I refused to cry. Crying was for someone who still believed in second chances, and I was done with that.
By the time I left the island, the bright sunshine felt like a cruel joke. I kept my gaze ahead, refusing to look back. I didn’t need to.
***
Months later, the bookstore was buzzing with excitement. Rows of seats were filled, and the air hummed with conversation. I stood at the podium, holding a copy of my novel, and tried to focus on the faces smiling back at me.
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“Thank you all for being here tonight,” I said, my voice steady despite the swirl of emotions beneath the surface. “This book is the result of years of work and… a journey I never expected to take.”
The applause was warm, yet I felt an ache deep in my chest as I looked out over the crowd. The novel was my pride, yes, but the road to its success had been anything but smooth. The betrayal still lingered in my mind.
After the signing line dwindled and the last guest left, I sank into a chair at the corner of the store, exhausted. That’s when I saw it—a small folded note on the table.
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“You owe me an autograph. Café around the corner when you’re free.”
The handwriting was unmistakable. My heart skipped a beat. Eric.
I stared at the note, my emotions a confusing mix of curiosity, irritation, and something else I wasn’t ready to name.
For a moment, I considered crumpling it up and walking away. But instead, I sighed, grabbed my coat, and headed for the café. I spotted him immediately.
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“You’re bold, leaving me a note like that,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
“Bold or desperate?” he replied with a wry smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Neither was I,” I admitted.
“Thea, I need to explain. What happened on the island… At first, I didn’t realize Lana’s true motives. She convinced me it was all to help you. But the moment I discovered what she was really planning, I took the flash drive and sent it to you.”
I stayed silent.
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“When Lana involved me, she said you were too modest to publish your novel yourself,” Eric continued. “She claimed you didn’t believe in your talent and needed someone to surprise you, to push it forward. I thought I was helping.”
“A surprise?” I shot back. “You mean taking my work behind my back?”
“That’s what I thought at first. The moment she told me the truth, I grabbed the flash drive and went to find you, but you were already gone.”
“So, what I overheard wasn’t what it seemed?”
“It wasn’t. Thea, I chose you the second I understood the truth.”
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I let the silence settle, waiting for the familiar anger to surface. But it wasn’t there anymore. Lana’s manipulations were in the past, and the novel had been published on my terms.
“She always envied you, you know,” Eric said quietly, breaking the silence. “Even back in university, she felt overshadowed. This time, she saw an opportunity and used both our trust to try and take what wasn’t hers.”
“And now?”
“She’s gone. Disappeared from every circle I know. She couldn’t face the fallout after I refused to back her lies.”
“You made the right choice. That counts for something.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me another chance?”
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“One date,” I said, holding up a finger. “Don’t mess it up.”
His grin widened. “Deal.”
As we left the café, I caught myself smiling. That one date turned into another and then another. Before I knew it, I fell in love. And that time, it wasn’t one-sided. What started with betrayal had blossomed into a relationship built on understanding, forgiveness, and, yes, love.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I thought I was helping a sharp-tongued customer pick a gift for her son’s girlfriend. But our clash became deeply personal when she came to dinner as my BF’s mother. Read the full story here.
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Woman Tires of Admirer Who Joins Her Jog Every Morning but Desperately Searches for Him When He Doesn’t Show Up — Story of the Day
Rebecca coped with her depression by organizing her life so there’d be no time for it. She’d been doing that for years since the divorce. Until one persistent stranger decided to interfere with her strict, lonely routine. Little did Rebecca know, he’d become the one person she’d end up missing.
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In the dim light of her bedroom, Rebecca lay on her back, her gaze locked on the digital clock beside her bed.
The numbers read 6:29. She took a steady breath, waiting for the clock to change.
As soon as it clicked to 6:30, the alarm went off, but Rebecca was quick to silence it.
She sat up, threw the covers aside, and rose from the bed with practiced precision.
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First things first—Rebecca smoothed out her sheets, arranging every corner until the bed looked crisp and perfectly made.
She walked into the bathroom, where everything had its place.
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Her toothbrush rested neatly in a holder, the soap was placed just so in a dish, and a small mirror hung over the sink.
Rebecca took a moment to look at her own reflection, her expression calm but distant.
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She was forty-seven, with lines of experience and resilience etched onto her face.
Seven years had passed since her divorce, and though the pain had dulled, it had left behind a scar.
Her response to the heartache had been order, discipline, and strict routine. These things brought her a sense of control, something solid to hold onto when life felt chaotic.
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At exactly seven o’clock, Rebecca laced up her running shoes, plugged in her headphones, and stepped outside, ready for her morning jog.
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For years, these runs had been her escape, a time to strengthen her body while listening to audiobooks that exercised her mind.
It was her shield against sadness, each step a way to push forward.
But for the past month, something had started to disrupt her carefully designed routine—a neighbor named Charlie, who seemed determined to break through her guarded solitude, one cheerful “good morning” at a time.
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Charlie’s house was right across the street, and every morning, just as Rebecca fell into her steady pace, he would come bounding out, waving his arms like an enthusiastic kid, barely managing to keep his sneakers on.
This morning was no different. Rebecca spotted him out of the corner of her eye as he hopped down his steps, shoving his shoelaces into his sneakers in a hurry to catch up.
She sighed, rolling her eyes and speeding up, hoping he’d get the hint this time. But, as always, Charlie wouldn’t be discouraged so easily.
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“Rebecca! Wait, it’s me!” he called, his voice cheerful as he jogged over, waving with one hand and holding his side with the other.
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Rebecca pretended not to hear him and kept her eyes straight ahead, her footsteps rhythmic and focused.
But Charlie was determined, and soon he was jogging alongside her, albeit slightly out of breath.
“You’re fast… as always,” he managed between pants, giving her a crooked smile as he tried to match her pace.
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Rebecca pulled out one of her earbuds and glanced at him, feigning surprise. “Oh, hi, didn’t see you there,” she replied, with just a hint of annoyance.
She had her whole morning planned out, and chatting with her neighbor hadn’t been on the agenda.
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“No problem, totally my fault for being late,” Charlie said, his breath still coming in gasps.
Rebecca could see he was trying hard to keep up, yet he looked pleased just to be running alongside her.
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She gave a small, dismissive nod and was about to put her earbud back in when Charlie chimed in again.
“Hey, want to hear a joke?” he asked eagerly, his voice carrying that unbreakable enthusiasm she found both irritating and oddly endearing.
“You’d save more breath if you talked less while running…” she muttered, but he ignored her suggestion.
“Why did the scarecrow get a promotion?” he asked, grinning.
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Rebecca sighed. She knew better than to indulge him, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Because he was outstanding in his field!” Charlie delivered the punchline with a broad, triumphant grin, his eyes bright with expectation.
Rebecca paused, rolling the joke over in her mind, and against her better judgment, a chuckle escaped her lips.
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She quickly tried to stifle it, but it was too late. Charlie had seen her reaction, and his face lit up with delight.
“See? You smiled! I’m getting better at this,” he noted with satisfaction, practically glowing at his small victory.
Rebecca shook her head, but her smile lingered, however brief.
“I’ll give it to you, that one wasn’t… too bad,” she conceded, still pretending to be unimpressed.
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Charlie threw a fist in the air, grinning as if he’d won a prize.
“Finally! Progress!” he cheered, laughing.
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Rebecca picked up her pace again, leaving Charlie struggling to keep up.
Each morning, Rebecca found herself looking forward to the sight of Charlie bounding out of his house with his untied sneakers and his cheerful grin.
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His silly jokes that once made her roll her eyes had grown on her, and she found herself smiling more often, even laughing aloud, which was something she hadn’t done in a long time.
More surprising to her, she had started to slow her pace—just a bit—so they could talk longer.
Charlie’s enthusiasm and light-heartedness had a way of softening the strict walls Rebecca had built around herself.
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He had even managed to slip past her strict routine, something she thought no one could do.
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As she laced up her shoes and looked out the window, Rebecca found herself glancing at his house, as she had started doing most mornings. Today, though, something felt different.
The door to his house was shut tight, and there was no sign of him.
She checked her watch and waited, telling herself not to worry. But after a few more minutes passed, doubt crept in.
This wasn’t like Charlie—he was always so excited to join her.
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She hesitated, feeling a strange mix of concern and disappointment, but finally, she walked over to his house and knocked on the door.
She tapped her foot as she waited, glancing around and hoping he’d just forgotten to wake up. But there was no answer.
She rang the doorbell again, then leaned close to the window, peeking inside, but the rooms were still and quiet.
“Charlie! Are you there?” she called, trying to keep her voice steady. “Come on, you’re missing our jog!”
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She hoped he’d suddenly appear, laughing and apologizing for being late. But all she heard was silence.
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Just then, an elderly voice spoke from nearby.
“Who’s shouting out here?” Startled, Rebecca turned to see Mrs. Lewis, an elderly woman who lived next door to Charlie, watching her with curiosity.
“Oh, Mrs. Lewis,” Rebecca said, feeling embarrassed for the outburst.
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“I usually run with Charlie, but he didn’t show up today. Maybe he overslept,” she added, her voice quieter, almost as if she were speaking to herself.
She felt a pang of worry, wondering if maybe he simply didn’t want to run with her anymore.
Mrs. Lewis shook her head, looking concerned.
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“Overslept? Oh no, dear. He was taken to the hospital by ambulance last night.”
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Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat.
“The hospital? What happened to him?”
Mrs. Lewis sighed, clearly upset herself.
“I’m not sure. I only saw the ambulance pull up and take him away. It’s such a shame. Poor man lives alone with no one to watch over him.”
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Rebecca stood there, processing the news, a wave of guilt and worry washing over her.
She had only known Charlie for a short while, but in that time, he had somehow become a part of her life, someone she looked forward to seeing.
Without a second thought, Rebecca thanked Mrs. Lewis, turned around, and headed back home to grab her purse and keys. There was only one hospital nearby, and she needed to find him.
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Rebecca felt her heart racing as she walked through the bustling halls of the hospital, the antiseptic smell filling her nose and making her even more anxious. She took a steadying breath as she approached the reception desk, hoping to sound calm.
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“Good morning,” she said, her voice just a bit shaky. “I’m looking for a patient who was admitted last night. His name is Charlie.”
The receptionist raised an eyebrow, looking over her glasses. “Do you have a last name, ma’am?”
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Rebecca felt herself blush. “No, sorry… I only know him as Charlie. We just… met recently,” she admitted, realizing how strange it must sound.
The receptionist gave her a slightly skeptical look. “You do know that only family or close relatives are typically allowed to visit patients, right?”
“I… I’m his girlfriend,” she blurted, surprising even herself.
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The receptionist’s eyes softened as a small smile crept onto her face. “Girlfriend, huh?” She tapped a few keys on her computer, a slight twinkle in her eyes.
“You might as well learn his last name, then. You’ll need it if he’s going to be around,” she said with a wink.
“Charlie Sanders. Room 113. I’ll take you there.”
Rebecca felt her heart flip as she whispered a quick “thank you” and followed the receptionist down the hall.
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Before they even reached the room, she could hear Charlie’s familiar laughter, his voice carrying through the doorway as he shared a joke with someone in the room.
The receptionist rapped gently on the wall to announce Rebecca’s arrival.
“Charlie, there’s a lady here to see you… she says she’s your girlfriend,” she added, a hint of playfulness in her voice as she glanced at Rebecca.
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Charlie’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Yes, yes! Rebecca, come on in. Of course, she’s here for me,” he said with a grin, gesturing for her to come closer.
Rebecca felt a rush of relief as she walked over to sit beside him.
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Charlie looked tired but cheerful, as if the hospital gown and the IV were just minor inconveniences in his day.
She glanced at him, both relieved and exasperated. “Girlfriend, huh?” Charlie teased, raising his eyebrows playfully.
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Rebecca gave him a mock-scowl. “I had to say something to get in here, didn’t I? And you missed our jog this morning! What happened?” she asked, a touch of concern creeping into her voice.
Charlie sighed, shifting slightly in the bed.
“Well… it’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but those jogs? Not exactly great for my health.”
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Rebecca’s face fell. “What do you mean?”
He glanced down, looking a little sheepish.
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“I have a heart condition. Doctor’s orders are to avoid anything too intense… like trying to keep up with you,” he admitted with a wry smile.
Her heart sank, and she shook her head in disbelief.
“Charlie, why didn’t you tell me? You shouldn’t have been running at all!”
Charlie gave a small, lopsided smile.
“Well… if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have seen you. I wouldn’t have gotten to know you.”
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Rebecca felt her face soften, a mix of surprise and affection warming her heart.
“So you were willing to risk your health just to talk to me?” she asked quietly, looking him in the eye.
He nodded, his expression turning serious.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“I’ve watched you every morning, jogging at the same time, like clockwork. I’ve seen you give things to charity, help the neighbors. You’re… you’re someone special, Rebecca.”
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Rebecca felt a lump form in her throat, his words striking her in a way she hadn’t expected.
She reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently.
“Charlie,” she said, her voice soft, “you don’t need to run to spend time with me. How about dinner at my place instead?”
Charlie’s face broke into a warm smile.
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“Now that sounds a lot safer for my heart,” he replied, his eyes shining. “I think the doctor would definitely approve.”
Rebecca chuckled, feeling the tension in her chest ease as they shared a smile.
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“I hope so,” she murmured, looking forward to an evening that didn’t involve heart-stopping runs but instead a quiet meal with someone who, in a short time, had become surprisingly important to her.
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