After years of living in grief, I finally found joy again. But just as I was ready to start a new chapter, someone else was determined to close the book on it.
I never expected to fall in love again, not after losing Paul.
He was my husband of 37 years.
Grief had made my home feel like a museum, frozen in time, and for five long years, I lived alone more out of habit than desire. Then, one morning, a coffee spill changed everything.
It happened at a little corner café near the bookstore I frequent.
I was flipping through a gardening magazine when moist heat startled me!
While I was processing what had happened, a voice said, “Oh no, I am so sorry!”
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