The date was wonderful, except for one thing—I hurt a good man. The storm outside trapped me in the hotel. I started reading the book that had sparked everything. Tears welled up, blurring the lines. That night, I was caught between the person I’d become and the one I started rediscovering.My name is Claire, and my story began on a gloomy Saturday when the rain seemed to mirror my mood. I reluctantly decided to attend a work networking event at a prestigious hotel, something I dreaded more than enjoyed.I was a successful business lady, I always prided myself on my achievements. But when it came to love, my life was a series of dead ends. My cynicism about relationships was the result of countless failed romances that had left me more guarded than I cared to admit.
I agreed to go to the event, not because I wanted to, but because it felt like an obligation—just another box to check off in my endless list of professional duties. On my way to the hotel, I decided to stop by a small café nearby. Maybe a strong coffee would help me get through the evening.As I stepped inside the cozy little café, I immediately spotted Olivia, a young and ambitious colleague in my company. She was sitting at a table, practically glowing with excitement.
Olivia was always so full of energy, so hopeful about everything, and today was no different. She eagerly told me about a blind date she was about to go on.
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She clutched a red book—something that was supposed to be her recognition signal for the date.
“A blind date? And with a book as a signal?” I scoffed, dismissing it as pure nonsense. “Olivia, you believe in that kind of thing?”
I had always believed that success came from hard work and taking what you want by any means necessary, not from silly romantic gestures.
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Olivia, however, seemed unfazed by my remark, still smiling as she checked her watch. But something about her optimism irked me.
Maybe it was her innocence or her belief that love was just around the corner, while I had long since given up on such fairy tales.
Without thinking, I “accidentally” spilled my coffee on her. The hot liquid splashed across her blouse, and her smile faded as she jumped up, rushing to the restroom to clean up the mess.
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I watched her go, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. At least she wouldn’t look better than me now.
As I sat there alone, contemplating whether to leave or stay, the café door opened, and in walked a handsome man. He glanced around, and his eyes landed on the red book Olivia had left on the table.
He smiled, assuming I was the one he was supposed to meet.
“Hi, I’m Ethan.”
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I didn’t correct him. Instead, I smiled back, feeling a spark between us that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Deciding that spending time with Ethan was far more appealing than the tedious networking event, I quickly pulled out my phone and sent a text to Olivia:
“Go to the event for me. You owe me one.”
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***
Ethan and I spent a wonderful evening together, one that felt like it could last forever.
We wandered through the city streets, stopping at little spots that caught our eye—a quaint bookstore, a lively street market, and a charming park where we sat on a bench, watching the world go by.
“So, what’s your big dream?” Ethan asked, leaning back on the bench with a relaxed smile.
I chuckled, thinking about how I usually avoided such questions.
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“Honestly? I’ve been so focused on my career that I forgot what it’s like to dream. Maybe a beach house somewhere, with no deadlines or emails. You?”
He grinned. “A cabin in the mountains. Somewhere quiet, where I can write a book and not worry about the world for a while.”
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We laughed at our flaws and aspirations, sharing stories about our past mistakes and the lessons we’d learned along the way.
The more we talked, the more I opened up to him. My usual cynicism seemed to melt away as we continued to explore the city together.
At one point, we found ourselves in a small, dimly lit restaurant, sharing a plate of pasta.
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Ethan twirled his fork in the spaghetti and asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
I smirked, ready with a snarky response, but something in his eyes made me pause.
“I used to think it was just a fairy tale. But… tonight’s been different.”
“Different how?” he pressed, his gaze steady on mine.
“Different as in, I’m enjoying myself. I feel like… like maybe I’ve been wrong about a lot of things,” I confessed, surprising even myself with the honesty in my words.
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Ethan smiled warmly, but his phone buzzed on the table before he could reply. He glanced at it, frowned, and put it away without answering.
“Do you need to get that?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of me was curious.
“It’s nothing important,” he said, waving it off. “I’d rather focus on us right now.”
But the phone kept buzzing throughout the evening, and each time, Ethan’s expression grew more troubled. Finally, as we were finishing dessert, it buzzed again.
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“I’m sorry, Claire, I need to take this,” he said, standing up and stepping away from the table.
I watched as he spoke quietly into the phone, his face shifting from curiosity to confusion. When he returned, his warm smile had faded, replaced by a tense expression.
“Claire,” he began, sitting down slowly, “why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the woman I was supposed to meet tonight?”
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My heart sank. I tried to keep my voice calm.
“Does it matter, Ethan? We’ve had such a great time together. Isn’t that what counts?”
“It does matter,” he said, his voice firm. “You should have been honest with me from the start. I don’t appreciate being lied to, even if it’s by omission.”
I reached out, trying to make him understand.
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“Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought maybe…”
But he cut me off, shaking his head.
“You already have, Claire.” He stood up, grabbing his jacket. “I can’t build anything real on a lie.”
I watched him walk out of the restaurant, leaving me alone at the table. The warmth of the evening evaporated, replaced by a cold, hollow feeling in my chest.
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***
Frustrated and angry, I stormed out of the restaurant, determined to regain control. Firing Olivia seemed like the first step.
She’ll never forget this.
But as I stepped outside, a heavy downpour and howling winds made it impossible to find a taxi. Drenched and defeated, I had no choice but to return to the hotel. The anger still simmered as I booked a room and trudged upstairs.
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I peeled off my soaked clothes, changed into a dry bathrobe, and tried to calm down, but my thoughts kept circling back to Ethan and how badly things had gone.
As I sank onto the bed, my hand brushed against something in my bag—Olivia’s red self-help book. I scoffed at the absurdity of it.
A self-help book? Really? This is what she bases her life on?
I tossed it aside, but with nothing else to do and the storm still raging, I picked it back up and started flipping through the pages, taking the bathroom and enjoying soothing tea.
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The words from that book made me uncomfortable, as if they were peeling away layers I hadn’t realized I’d built up.
Have I become this person?
I remembered how hopeful and excited I used to be about life, but somewhere along the way, I lost that version of myself.
Where did I go wrong?
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I used to care about more than just climbing the corporate ladder. Now, I’m someone I barely recognize. Memories of lost friendships and missed opportunities for love flooded my mind.
Why do I always push people away? Why do I make everything so difficult?
The truth was, that I built these walls to protect myself from getting hurt, but they only isolated me further.
Tears welled up, and I couldn’t hold them back. I grabbed a pen and paper from the nightstand and started writing. As I finished, I felt drained but oddly at peace, as if I had finally confronted a truth I’d been avoiding for too long.
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***
At dawn, after a night of soul-searching and tearful revelations, I felt a strange sense of calm.
I decided to start the day with a cup of coffee, hoping it would help clear the lingering fog in my mind. But before that, there was something I needed to do.
I picked up my phone, hesitating for just a moment before typing a message to Olivia.
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“Olivia, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been fair to you, and last night made me realize a lot about myself. I hope you can forgive me.”
It wasn’t easy to admit that I was wrong, but it felt necessary, like the first step toward being the person I wanted to be.
With the message sent, I headed down to the café where we had met the day before.
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Surprised, I saw Ethan sitting at a table by the window. I was about to approach him, the door behind me swung open, and Olivia walked in. She spotted Ethan and me immediately.
“Looks like we all ended up here,” she said, joining us at the table. “The storm must’ve had its plans for us.”
We ordered breakfast. I decided it was time to address what had happened.
“I owe both of you an apology,” I began, looking from Ethan to Olivia.
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“Last night was… Well, it was a wake-up call. I realize now that I’ve been hiding behind my work and my attitude for so long that I forgot who I really am. That book you had, Olivia, made me see things differently. It made me realize how far I’ve strayed from the person I used to be.”
When I finished, Olivia leaned forward.
“Claire, a book can’t change a person overnight. It might open your eyes, but the truth is, you’ve always been this way. You just needed a reminder. Sometimes, life gets in the way, and we forget who we are. But you’ve got a chance now, a chance to find your way back.”
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Ethan, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke.
“I think what Olivia is saying is true. The Claire I met yesterday was real, even if she was a bit lost. We all get lost sometimes.”
We laughed together as we enjoyed our breakfast.
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“I want you to keep the book,” Olivia said. “I want you to remember that you’re a wonderful woman. Don’t let anyone, especially yourself, make you forget that.”
I was touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Olivia. For everything.”
As we left the café, I couldn’t help but feel that something new and exciting was waiting for me. The road ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, I was ready to embrace it.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
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