Saí com um cara do Tinder e, quando nos conhecemos pela primeira vez, ele me rejeitou assim que viu minha cadeira de rodas. No entanto, nossa mesa foi selecionada para um jantar gratuito, então passei a noite com ele. Mal sabia eu que o coração partido estava apenas começando.
Meu coração disparou de antecipação enquanto eu me sentava na mesa 13, pronta para meu encontro no Tinder com Alan. Mas quando ele chegou e eu o cumprimentei da minha cadeira de rodas, seu sorriso desapareceu para choque.
“Sally? Uau. Você não mencionou… a cadeira de rodas,” ele gaguejou.
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“Eu não pensei nisso”, respondi, esperando por compreensão. “Eu queria que você me visse, não minha cadeira de rodas. Por quê, há algum problema?”
“É só que… é uma coisa grande, não se pode mencionar”, ele disse, seu entusiasmo inicial diminuindo. “Você não acha?”
“Eu queria que nos conhecêssemos sem suposições”, expliquei.
De repente, Alan pegou seu telefone e rolou por algo. “Nenhuma foto em uma cadeira de rodas. Mentindo por omissão?” Ele olhou para mim. Eu podia ver que ele estava furioso, seus olhos vermelhos e punhos cerrados.
“Eles-eles foram levados antes do acidente,” eu sussurrei, a lembrança dolorosa. Perdi minha habilidade de andar há dois anos em um acidente que levou meus pais embora.
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“Bela tentativa de conseguir minha pena”, Alan zombou de mim, suas palavras me cortando profundamente.
“Não estou pedindo piedade”, eu disse, com lágrimas brotando em meus olhos. “Estou aprendendo a me aceitar novamente. Eu mereço uma segunda chance na vida. Assim como todo mundo.”
“Você não pode aceitar sua deficiência, mas eu deveria? Eu queria um encontro de verdade, não alguém… em uma cadeira de rodas!” ele retrucou duramente.
As palavras cruéis de Alan doeram, mas eu permaneci esperançosa de que ele entenderia. “Eu estava com medo de que você não quisesse me conhecer se soubesse”, admiti.
“Você está certa,” ele zombou. “Eu nem teria pensado em vir aqui. Eu queria ir a um encontro com alguém normal, não… defeituoso!”
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Sua demissão foi um golpe doloroso, mas o fato de ele ter me chamado de “defeituoso” acendeu uma chama dentro de mim.
“Você nem mencionou a cadeira de rodas na sua biografia!” ele rosnou, seus olhos novamente no telefone.
Alan parecia tão diferente pessoalmente, não era o cara que me impressionou com seus poemas e conversas românticas no Tinder. Ele costumava me dizer que eu era bonita. Talvez ele tivesse se apaixonado apenas pelo meu lindo rosto. Talvez ele não estivesse preparado para me ver assim.
Não foi tudo culpa dele. Eu deveria ter contado antes. Mas eu estava com medo. Como mencionei, eu ainda estava aprendendo a me aceitar.
“Este fim de semana inteiro foi arruinado por sua decepção!” Alan explodiu, me trazendo de volta ao momento. “Você se considera normal? Você é, no máximo, meia pessoa!”
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Suas palavras doeram, mas eu me mantive firme. “Eu sou normal! Estar em uma cadeira de rodas não me torna defeituoso”, declarei.
“Sabe de uma coisa? Encontre alguém tão ‘defeituoso’ quanto você”, ele zombou, virando-se quando um garçom se aproximou da nossa mesa.
A raiva de Alan atingiu o auge quando ele esbarrou no garçom, que anunciou um jantar surpresa para nós, nos celebrando (mesa 13) como o 10.000º convidado e trazendo um bolo.
“Ótimo, mesa 13! Eu só tinha ouvido falar até agora, mas agora tenho certeza de que traz azar”, Alan zombou, mas eu escolhi aproveitar o momento. E daí se eu não podia ir a um encontro com Alan? Eu ainda podia aproveitar o bolo! Eu ainda podia fingir que estava… feliz.
“Isso é maravilhoso, obrigada!”, exclamei, olhando para o bolo delicioso.
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Para minha surpresa, Alan não queria mais ir embora. “Tudo bem, então. Traga o cardápio, mas eu vou sentar em outro lugar”, ele disse ao garçom. Ele queria a refeição grátis, mas eu não.
O sorriso do garçom vacilou levemente. “Temo que a comemoração seja apenas para a mesa 13. Vocês não estão juntos?”
“É claro que estamos juntos!”, aleguei, segurando a mão de Alan, forçando-o a entrar na farsa.
Alan, pego de surpresa, olhou nos meus olhos por um momento, sua surpresa evidente quando ele entendeu minha dica. Eu queria que aproveitássemos o mimo de cortesia. Pelo menos algo mais memorável para a noite do que nada? Eu tinha me apaixonado por Alan, e eu o amava, apesar de seus defeitos. Eu amava. Não é disso que se trata o amor?
“Certo, sim, absolutamente. Teremos o menu então,” Alan concedeu, e eu sorri.
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O jantar prosseguiu em silêncio até que tentei iniciar uma conversa. “A comida é realmente boa, não é?”, eu disse, tentando aliviar o clima.
Alan me ignorou até eu mencionar basquete. “Você assiste basquete?”, ele perguntou, mostrando um toque de interesse.
Uma onda de excitação percorreu meu corpo. Alan falou. Ele abriu a boca e começou uma conversa comigo! Finalmente!
“Absolutamente! Adorei. Tenho até uma camisa autografada pelo LeBron”, exclamei, minha voz borbulhando de alegria e os olhos cheios de esperança.
Mas então, a piada de Alan sobre LeBron autografando minha camisa no pronto-socorro azedou o momento, mas eu segurei as lágrimas, me recusando a deixar que suas palavras me machucassem ainda mais.
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Enquanto o silêncio sufocante ameaçava nos consumir mais uma vez, a voz do garçom ecoou pelo microfone.
“Senhoras e senhores, é hora do nosso concurso semanal de pombinhos! Qualquer casal que esteja se sentindo sortudo esta noite, vamos ver essas mãos!”
Apesar dos protestos de Alan, eu ansiosamente nos ofereci, sua relutância clara. “Você é louco? Abaixe sua mão. Eu não vou fazer isso,” ele objetou.
Ignorando-o, mantive minha mão erguida, e logo fomos chamados para participar. No palco, o jogo envolvia identificar nosso parceiro pelo toque e remover os prendedores de roupa presos em seus vestidos. “Peguei você”, eu disse, tentando remover os prendedores de roupa de Alan assim que o encontrei.
“Não podemos perder isso. Você precisa coletar os pinos rápido,” Alan sussurrou, tentando ajudar. Fiquei feliz que ele estava envolvido no jogo.
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Mas fomos desqualificados para nos movermos — Alan deveria ficar parado. Frustrado, ele atacou, me chamando de “idiota deficiente”. Lágrimas brotaram em meus olhos enquanto eu murmurava um pedido de desculpas, me sentindo completamente derrotado.
O garçom, percebendo a tensão, interveio, anunciando uma rodada de quiz. Enxugando as lágrimas, eu entrei com as respostas confiantemente. “Pacífico!”, declarei para o maior oceano, e “Taj Mahal!” para o símbolo do amor eterno.
Alan, impressionado com meu conhecimento, perguntou: “Como você sabe de tudo isso?”
“Dois diplomas e uma sede de conhecimento”, respondi, orgulhoso e um pouco corado.
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Naquele momento, seu sorriso, caloroso e genuíno, pareceu um pedido de desculpas silencioso, reconhecendo minha resiliência e intelecto, apesar das tensões da noite anterior.
A excitação atingiu o pico quando a pergunta final do quiz foi sobre Space Jam 2. Alan e eu, agora em sincronia, apertamos a campainha juntos, gritando: “LeBron James!” Nossa resposta correta nos uniu em uma breve e inesperada camaradagem.
“Sally, você é a mulher mais incrível que já conheci. Sinto muito por ter sido um babaca antes,” Alan confessou, sua hostilidade anterior substituída por admiração.
Mas meu coração se partiu mais uma vez quando ouvi uma conversa no corredor. Alan tinha se desculpado depois do jogo e, enquanto estava indo para o banheiro, encontrou seu amigo, Karl.
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Karl zombou do encontro de uma “garota deficiente”, sugerindo que o homem estava fazendo isso só para se exibir. Meu coração afundou quando percebi que ele estava falando sobre Alan e eu. A pior parte? Alan fingiu que não era o homem de quem Karl estava falando.
Da nossa mesa, eu podia ouvir tudo e esperava que Alan me defendesse. Mas, para meu desânimo, ele se juntou a Karl e um grupo de mulheres, me ignorando.
“Sophia, moças, conheçam Alan,” Karl anunciou, e Sophia rapidamente disse, “Não é aquele cara com o par deficiente? Eu os vi juntos enquanto esperava você chegar, Karl.”
“Foi um mal-entendido… Ela não é ninguém”, respondeu Alan, forçando um sorriso.
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Juntei minha coragem e me aproximei da mesa deles. “Alan, você está me ignorando?”, perguntei, apenas para ser rebatido por Karl, “Ah, então você é a garota na cadeira de rodas, hein?! Vai embora!”
Apesar de me sentir magoado, tentei esclarecer: “Alan e eu estamos num encontro”.
A dispensa de Alan foi dura, não deixando espaço para esperança. “Não houve encontro, Sally. Só o concurso. E jantar grátis. Por favor, vá embora! Estou com meus amigos agora”, ele disse friamente, com o riso dos amigos pontuando sua rejeição.
Tentei alcançá-lo, “Alan, por favor…” mas ele estava inflexível. “Eu não quero falar. Eu quero estar com pessoas ‘normais’, Sally. Por favor, vá embora!”
Raiva e mágoa alimentaram minha resposta: “Ser ‘normal’ não é só sobre o corpo; é sobre ter um bom coração. E você é… sem coração!”
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Suas palavras finais cortaram fundo, “Sinto muito. Você terá que ir sozinho.” E então, eu vi algo em seus olhos. Culpa? Mas então, por que você não se juntou a mim? Por que ficar aqui se sentindo triste? Por que me dar falsas esperanças?
Deixado em lágrimas, pensei em deixar o café, mas fui atraído de volta pelo anúncio do desafio do karaokê. “Finalistas, preparem-se para o grand finale — o desafio do karaokê!”
No palco, com Alan fora, duvidei da minha participação. “Meu encontro, ele… ele foi embora. Isso significa que estou desqualificado?”
O garçom me encorajou: “De jeito nenhum, senhorita… O palco é todo seu!”
Com determinação renovada, cantei “You Are Only Mine”, colocando meu coração na apresentação, encontrando força na minha vulnerabilidade.
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Quando terminei, Alan reapareceu, microfone na mão, sua voz cheia de remorso. “Sally,” ele começou, “eu… eu não sei como expressar o quanto sinto muito. Por tudo.”
Seu retorno inesperado e seu pedido de desculpas ofereceram um vislumbre de esperança, uma chance de compreensão e, talvez, perdão.
“Ouvir você cantar, sentir a verdade em suas palavras… me fez perceber o quão errado eu estava. Você abriu meus olhos, Sally. Você é a pessoa mais corajosa que já conheci. Eu estava tão errado.”
Eu poderia confiar em Alan… de novo?
“E agora?”, perguntei, com lágrimas brilhando nos meus olhos.
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Seu pedido de desculpas pareceu genuíno, oferecendo um vislumbre de esperança. “Eu estava cego para quem você realmente é, Sally. Sinto muito. Quero dar a você, a nós, uma chance.”
Enquanto a música do café suavizava, Alan ofereceu uma dança, um gesto em direção à reconciliação. Hesitante, aceitei, nossa dança, uma conversa silenciosa de arrependimento e compreensão. O garçom nos anunciou como vencedores, nossa vitória compartilhada simbolizando nossa jornada do mal-entendido à conexão.
Ao sair do café, de mãos dadas, Alan e eu refletimos sobre a noite, reconhecendo que a verdadeira deficiência não está nas limitações físicas, mas na ausência de empatia e compreensão.
Girl Claims She Sees Late Mom at School Every Day, Dad Shocked Upon Discovering the Truth — Story of the Day
Michael, a single father, was left with his 8-year-old daughter after his wife died in a car accident. He thought he was managing well and that his daughter was coping with her mother’s death. But one day, she approached him and said she saw her mom at school every day.
Michael mourned the loss of his wife, Simone, every day. Just a few months ago, she had died in a car accident, but her body was never found because she had fallen into a river.
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This left Michael alone with his 8-year-old daughter, Hannah. Determined to stay strong for her, Michael moved to another city to escape the painful memories that filled their old town. He knew Hannah had already lost her mother; he couldn’t let her lose him, too.
Hannah slowly adapted to her new school and even seemed happy. Michael, on the other hand, had to learn to be both a father and a mother.
He taught himself how to style Hannah’s hair, woke up early every morning to make her breakfast and pack her lunch, and even learned some ballet moves to practice with her at home.
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Simone had enrolled Hannah in ballet, believing she would be a great ballerina one day. Michael kept that dream alive, and it kept a part of Simone alive in her.
Today, Michael had finished work early and decided to pick up Hannah from school, a rare treat since she usually took the bus. He waited in the car outside the school, excitement bubbling inside him.
Soon, Hannah ran out of the school. Michael honked the horn to get her attention, and she waved cheerfully, sprinting toward the car. She hopped in, throwing her backpack onto the back seat.
“Hi, Dad!” Hannah said with a big smile as she got into the car.
“Hi, sweetheart. How was school today?” Michael asked, starting to drive.
“It was good. Everyone praised me for my math. All the work we did yesterday really helped,” Hannah replied proudly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Hannah’s smile faded. “But Mom still ignores me,” she said sadly.
Michael’s heart skipped a beat. He hit the brakes harder than he meant to. “What do you mean, Hannah? Do you talk to her?” he asked, his voice full of worry.
“Yes, every day,” Hannah said. “But she pretends she doesn’t know me.”
Michael sighed and started driving again, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. “Hannah, your mom is in a better place now. It’s far away, and she can’t respond to you. But she hears everything you say and loves you very much.”
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Hannah looked confused. “What do you mean? She’s not far away. She’s at school. I see her every day,” she insisted.
Michael glanced at her, puzzled. “What? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Hannah groaned in frustration. “Dad, what’s not to understand? Mom cleans our school every morning when I get there. But when I talk to her, she says she doesn’t know me. I think she’s mad because I want to quit ballet,” she said.
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“You want to quit ballet?” Michael asked, surprised.
Yes. I don’t like it anymore. Mom wanted me to do ballet, but now she doesn’t even talk to me,” Hannah said.
“Hannah, you’re not quitting ballet,” Michael said firmly.
“I will!” Hannah shot back, her voice rising.
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“No!” Michael shouted louder than he intended. Hannah’s eyes widened in fear. He took a deep breath and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, but you’re not quitting ballet. We’re not discussing this.”
“But…” Hannah started to say.
Michael cut her off. “It’s not up for discussion. Now let’s go to school, and you show me your mom.”
“She’s not there now. She only comes in the mornings,” Hannah replied.
“Then tomorrow, I’ll go to school with you, and you can show me,” Michael said, determined to understand what was going on.
“Okay, you’ll see I’m telling the truth. You don’t believe me now,” Hannah said quietly.
Michael sighed, his heart aching for his daughter.
For the rest of the day, Michael couldn’t find peace. His mind kept racing with thoughts of Hannah seeing visions of Simone. He had thought Hannah was coping well with her mother’s death.
She had been calm and cheerful since their move to the new city. But now, it seemed he was wrong.
The next day, Michael took Hannah to school and went inside with her. All morning, Hannah kept repeating that she wasn’t lying and that he would soon see for himself.
“Where is she?” Michael asked as they walked through the school corridors, his eyes scanning the halls.
“I don’t know. We need to find her,” Hannah replied, looking around anxiously.
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They walked further, passing classrooms and offices. Suddenly, Hannah shouted, “There! Mom!” She pointed at a cleaner standing with her back to them. Michael froze, his heart pounding.
From behind, the woman did look like Simone. Hannah ran up to her and gently tugged on her sleeve. Michael approached slowly, his mind racing.
When the woman turned around, Michael realized it wasn’t Simone. The resemblance had been uncanny from behind, but up close, it was clear she was a stranger.
“Oh, you’re not my mom,” Hannah said. She stepped back, her shoulders slumping.
“Unfortunately not, sweetie,” the woman replied kindly, giving Hannah a gentle smile.
After apologizing to the woman, Michael took Hannah’s hand and led her aside. “Hannah, this isn’t your mom. I know it’s hard to lose her, but your mom is in a better place now and is always watching over you,” he said softly.
“I know this isn’t Mom! I’m not blind,” Hannah said, her eyes filling with tears. “But she was here. I swear, I saw her.”
“Okay,” Michael sighed heavily, feeling the weight of her words.For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You don’t believe me!” Hannah shouted, her voice echoing in the hallway. “Mom always believed me!” She turned and ran away from Michael.“Hannah!” he called after her, but she kept running, her small figure disappearing down the hall.
Michael returned to his car, feeling a deep sense of guilt. He knew Hannah and Simone had a special bond. He realized he could never replace her mother, but he would try his best to be there for his daughter.
Michael took time off work and scheduled an appointment with a psychologist for Hannah that very day after school. He picked her up and explained, “We’re going to see a lady you can talk to about anything. She’s here to help.”
Hannah crossed her arms and frowned, still angry with Michael. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” she muttered.
“I know you’re upset, but this might help,” Michael said gently as they drove to the psychologist’s office.
When they arrived, the psychologist greeted them warmly. “Hi, Hannah. I’m Dr. Stevens. Would you like to come with me?” she asked with a kind smile.
Hannah glanced at Michael, then reluctantly followed Dr. Stevens.
After an hour, Dr. Stevens came out to talk to Michael. She looked thoughtful and serious.
“How did it go?” Michael asked, his voice filled with concern.
Dr. Stevens smiled reassuringly. “I don’t see any signs of psychological issues. I don’t think she’s lying. Hannah genuinely believes she sees her mother at school.”
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Michael frowned. “But that’s impossible. Her mother is dead.”
“I understand,” Dr. Stevens said, nodding. “But everyone grieves in their own way. Hannah might not be ready to let go of her mother. She could be seeing her in others.”
“What should I do?” Michael asked, feeling lost.
“Support her. Believe her,” Dr. Stevens advised. “She’s not lying to you. This is her reality right now.”
Michael nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay, thank you.”
He picked up Hannah, and they headed home. On the way, he glanced at her, noticing she seemed a bit calmer, less angry. He hoped this was a step in the right direction.
The next day, Michael took Hannah to school again. As they arrived, her teacher approached his car. “I have some of Hannah’s drawings to show you,” the teacher said.
Michael got out of the car, curious. “Sure, let’s see them,” he replied, following the teacher.
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The teacher handed him a stack of drawings. Michael flipped through them, astonished. “These are amazing. I didn’t know Hannah could draw like this,” he said, feeling a swell of pride.
“She has real talent,” the teacher agreed.
Michael thanked the teacher and continued to look at the drawings as he walked into the hallway. He was so absorbed that he almost didn’t notice what was in front of him.
When he looked up, his heart nearly stopped. Standing there was Simone. Michael felt like he had forgotten how to breathe; his heart raced, and he couldn’t move.
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Just then, Hannah ran out of her classroom, her face lighting up when she saw the woman.
“Mom!” Hannah shouted, running towards the woman who looked exactly like her late mother. She turned to Michael with a triumphant smile. “I told you I was telling the truth.”
Michael stood frozen, his mind reeling. “Uh-huh,” he mumbled, unable to form any other words.
The teacher called Hannah back, and she reluctantly returned to her classroom. Michael, still in shock, slowly approached the woman. “Simone?” he asked, his voice shaking.
The woman looked at him, clearly confused. “Excuse me?” she said.
“Simone, is it really you?” Michael asked again, his heart pounding.
“I’m sorry, sir, but my name is Evelyn,” the woman replied firmly.
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“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Evelyn said, still looking puzzled
How is this possible? How did you end up here?” Michael asked.
“Sir, I really don’t understand what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before in my life. I think you must be mistaking me for someone else. I need to get back to work,” Evelyn said, turning to leave.
“You have a tattoo on your shoulder!” Michael shouted, desperate. Evelyn stopped in her tracks, frozen. “A chrysanthemum,” he added.
Evelyn turned around slowly, her eyes wide with surprise. “How do you know that?”
“You got it when Hannah was born. Hannah Chrysanthemum, that’s the name of the flower on your shoulder. You joked that even if Hannah grew up and forgot about you, the flower would always be with you,” Michael explained.
“Listen, this is very strange, and it’s scaring me,” she said, her eyes darting around nervously.
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“I also wanted to get that tattoo but was too scared. You were always braver than me,” Michael said.
“How do you know what tattoo I have? Have you been following me? First, that strange girl calls me her mother, and now you. I’m going to go crazy,” Evelyn said, her voice rising with fear.
“Please, let me explain everything. Will you have coffee with me?” Michael asked, his eyes pleading.
“I need to finish my work,” Evelyn replied, still looking wary.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll wait for you outside,” Michael said, hoping she would agree.
Michael went outside and leaned against his car, his mind racing. He couldn’t believe this was real. After some time, Simone came out of the school and hesitantly approached him.
“Ready to go?” Michael asked softly.
Simone nodded, and they got into the car, driving to the nearest café. They ordered coffee. Black. Michael smiled, remembering how Simone always hated coffee with sugar or cream.
When their order arrived, Michael took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. We were married, and we have a daughter named Hannah.”
Simone looked confused but listened intently. “I don’t remember any of that,” she said softly. “Fishermen found me on the riverbank. They let me live with them, but I couldn’t remember anything about my life, not even my name. I chose the name Evelyn, but I don’t know why.”
Michael’s eyes softened. “We wanted to name our next daughter Evelyn,” he explained.
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Simone’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Michael nodded. “Yes. Hannah and I would love for you to come home with us. You don’t have to decide now, but think about it.”Simone looked down at her coffee. “Okay, I’ll come with you. But I still don’t remember anything.”
Michael smiled gently. “That’s alright. We can figure it out together.”Simone had been living with Michael and Hannah for a week. Hannah was very happy and constantly reminded Michael that she had been right.
Simone was also trying to adjust to her new life. Although she still couldn’t remember anything from before, she was trying her best to fit in.
Michael decided they should sleep in separate rooms for now. He wanted Simone to feel comfortable and not pressured.
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Today, after breakfast, Simone was finishing her coffee at the table while Michael washed the dishes. Hannah approached Simone with a serious look on her face.
“Mom, will you be mad at me if I quit ballet?” Hannah asked.
“Why would I be mad at you?” she asked, glancing at Michael, who stopped washing dishes to listen.
“You liked watching me dance. You wanted me to be a ballerina,” Hannah said quietly.
Simone smiled gently. “And what do you want to do?” she asked.
Hannah’s face lit up. “I want to draw!”
“Then you should draw,” Simone said. She turned to Michael. “Do you think we could enroll her in an art school?”
Michael smiled warmly. “Yes, definitely,” he replied.
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“Yay!” Hannah shouted. She hugged Simone tightly, then ran to Michael and hugged him before dashing off to her room.
Simone watched her go, then cautiously approached Michael, holding her coffee cup. “Let me wash this,” she offered.
Michael took the cup from her hands. “It’s okay, I’ll wash it,” he said with a smile. Simone smiled back but didn’t move away. She continued to stand there, watching him.
“Is everything okay?” Michael asked, noticing her hesitation.
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“Yes,” Simone said softly. “I think I remembered something.”
Michael turned to face her. “What did you remember?”
“We were standing by the sea, and a dog ran up to us. It first knocked me over and then knocked down an arch we were standing under,” Simone said.
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Michael laughed. “Yes, that was our wedding. The dog was Toby, my childhood pet. He adored you and couldn’t contain his excitement. That was your favorite story from our wedding.”
Simone smiled. “I think it will still be my favorite story when I remember everything,” she said.
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Michael smiled back, and Simone tentatively hugged him. Michael hugged her back, trying not to splash her with water and soap. He felt warmth and hope flood through him.
Just a few weeks ago, he couldn’t have imagined feeling this happy again. As he held her, he realized how much he had missed this closeness.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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