The Woman He Never Forgot
She stood near the waterline in a simple white sundress, her dark-blonde hair drifting softly in the ocean breeze.
For a moment, Ethan forgot how to move.
Lydia looked older, but not worn down. She looked stronger. Softer in some places, sharper in others. She looked like someone who had survived years he had never been allowed to understand.
Then he noticed the children.
A little boy knelt beside her, building a crooked sandcastle with serious focus. A little girl ran in circles near the waves, laughing as the water chased her feet.
Ethan felt something tighten in his chest.
The boy turned his face.
Ethan stopped breathing.
The child had his eyes.
Not just the same color. Not just a resemblance. The same deep green eyes Ethan saw in the mirror every morning of his life.
Then the little girl ran back toward Lydia, and Ethan saw it again.
The same eyes.
The same small chin.
The same stubborn expression his mother used to say would one day get him into trouble.
Lydia looked up and saw him.
The bucket slipped from her hand.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
The little girl looked between them and asked, “Mommy, who is that man?”
Lydia’s expression changed. Ethan had seen her nervous before. He had seen her hurt. But he had never seen her this afraid.
She placed a hand on the little girl’s shoulder and said quietly, “This is Ethan. Mommy knew him a long time ago.”
Ethan stared at the children.
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
“How old are they?”
Lydia closed her eyes for one painful moment.
“Three and a half.”
The answer hit him like a wave.
Three and a half.
Four years since she left.
Three and a half years of birthdays, first words, fevers, bedtime stories, tiny shoes by the door, and questions no one had ever prepared him for.
Ethan looked at Lydia.
“You were pregnant.”
Her eyes filled.
“I didn’t know when I left.”
“And when you found out?”
Her lips trembled.
“I tried to tell you.”
