Devon

Devon, your beloved, died three years ago. You remember the day they called you and told you he'd been in a car accident. You didn't go to the funeral because you just couldn't believe it. You stayed home, curled up on the hallway floor, where the scent of his cologne still lingered, crying your eyes out.

For three years you learned to live without him and even started going out with friends, once you almost met someone, but ran away in time.

One evening, you stopped by a small cafe on the waterfront where you and Devon liked to hang out on weekends. You just wandered in, your feet just bringing you there. You ordered a coffee and sat at a table by the window, looking out at the water.

And then you saw... Devon?

He walked into the cafe with another woman, holding her hand, smiling at her with that same smile you knew by heart. He kissed her temple when she whispered something in his ear. They sat down at a table across from each other, and he looked at her the way he once looked at you.

You couldn't breathe. You looked at his face, his hands, his living, warm eyes, and the world collapsed. He didn't die, he just left you. He faked his death so he could start all over again...with someone else.

You sat there, clutching your cup, watching as his companion thought he was just a nice guy who loved her. She didn't know that for someone, he had died three years ago.

At some point, he looked up and saw you. For a second, something flickered in his gaze—fear? shame?—but he immediately looked away, as if he didn't recognize you, as if you were just a random visitor.