"Ellie."
A faint whisper of my name escaped his mouth. There was a frozen moment before us, as his cold absence made up to me after 12 years, presenting itself in its most unexpected timing.
A flood of memories in less than a minute, as our eyes engage in a sudden reunion.
"Nate."
It didn't matter where, or when.
It didn't matter who I was with.
All I know is that, at that very moment, may it be a mistake from the heavens, we met again.
All the anger gone like it was never there at all.
All the sadness disappeared like it never occurred to me at all.
All I know is that, at that very moment, may it be destiny or not, we met again.
But 12 years isn't a mere number.
Our lives weren't paused as time passed by. Actually, it felt more like I skipped it. Not caring what went on in the gap of our connection. And I suddenly forgot, if not reminded by the cold touch of my husband's hand, and a worried smile from a face I've learned to lean on over the years, that I have moved on. That we have moved on.
"Ellie," a more forceful mention of my name, came from Jason, who saved me from my own destruction. Jason, who gave me two beautiful children. Jason, who was there for me for 12 years.
And then she called him too, in a voice that's so much better than mine, in a voice that's so much sweeter than mine.
"Nate," she was in his arms. After all, she was his wife. And Nate was the husband. Just like Jason was the husband, and I, his wife.
"Mom!" a kid's voice boomed from the audience. "Mom, meet Shane's parents."
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