Every Monday I watched an elderly man who bought two tickets but always sat alone.
Curiosity drove me to discover his secret, so I bought the seat next to him.
As he began to tell his story, I had no idea how our lives would intertwine in the most unexpected ways.
Old Town Cinema was more than just a job to me.
It was a place where the hum of the projector could erase the cares of the world for a moment.
The scent of buttered popcorn wafted through the air, and faded nostalgic posters told stories of a golden era I could only imagine.
Every Monday morning Edward appeared, his appearance as reliable as the sunrise.
He was not like the regulars who barged in, rummaging for change or tickets.
Edward moved with quiet dignity, his tall, slender figure wrapped in a neatly buttoned grey coat.
His silver hair, carefully slicked back, reflected the light as he approached the counter.
He always asked for the same thing.
‘Two tickets for the morning session.’
And yet he always came alone.
His fingers, cold from the December frost, touched mine as I held out the tickets to him.
I smiled politely, but unspoken questions raced through my mind.
Why two tickets? Who are they for?
‘Two tickets again?’ – Sarah teased behind me, smirking as she served another customer.
‘Maybe for a lost love. Like in an old-fashioned novel, you know?’
‘Or maybe for a ghost,’ another colleague, Steve, put in with a chuckle. ‘He’s probably married to one.’
I didn’t laugh. Something about Edward made their jokes inappropriate.
I thought about asking him, even rehearsed a few phrases in my head.
But every time the moment came, the courage left me.
After all, it was none of my business.
The following Monday was different.
It was my day off, and as I lay in bed watching the frosty patterns on the windows, an idea popped into my head.
What if I followed him? It’s not spying.
It’s… curiosity.
After all, Christmas is coming soon – a time for miracles.
The morning chill was sharp and fresh, and the garlands along the street glowed brighter than usual.
When I entered the semi-darkened cinema room, Edward was already seated, his figure framed by the soft light of the screen.
He seemed pensive, his posture as straight and purposeful as ever.
His eyes met mine, and a faint smile flashed across his face.
‘You’re not working today,’ he remarked.
I settled into the seat next to him.
‘I thought you could use some company. I see you here so often.’
He laughed softly, but there was sadness in his voice.
‘It’s not about the films,’ he said.
‘Then what is it about?’ – I asked, not hiding my curiosity.
Edward leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.
He hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether to confide in me.
Then he spoke.
‘Years ago,’ he began, looking at the screen, ’there was a woman who worked here. Her name was Evelyn.’
I remained silent, feeling that this story needed time.
‘She was beautiful,’ he continued, with a slight smile on his lips.
‘Not the kind of beauty that makes everyone turn round, but the kind that stays.
Like a melody that can’t be forgotten. She used to work here.
We met here, and that’s how our story began.’
I imagined it as he spoke: the busy cinema, the flickering of the projector casting shadows on her face, their quiet conversations between sessions.
‘I once invited her to a morning session on her day off,’ Edward said. ‘She said yes.’
He fell silent, his voice trembling slightly.
‘But she never showed up.’
‘What happened?’ – I whispered, leaning closer.
‘I found out later that she was fired,’ he said, his voice getting heavier.
‘When I asked the manager for her contacts, he refused and told me not to come again.
I didn’t understand why. She just…disappeared.’
Edward sighed, his gaze falling to the empty seat beside him.
‘I tried to move on.
I got married and lived a quiet life.
But after my wife died, I started coming here again.
Hoping…I don’t know.’
I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat.
‘She was the love of your life.’
‘Yes. She still is.’
‘What do you remember about her?’ – I asked.
‘Just her name,’ Edward admitted.
‘Evelyn.’
‘I’ll help you find her.’
At that moment, I realised what I’d promised.
Evelyn worked at the cinema, but the manager who fired her was my father.
A man who barely noticed me.
Preparing to talk to my father felt like preparing for a battle I couldn’t win.
I adjusted my austere jacket and pulled my hair into a tight ponytail.
Every detail mattered.
My father, Thomas, valued order and professionalism-the qualities he lived by and judged others by.
Edward waited patiently at the door, hat in hand, both concerned and collected.
‘Are you sure he’ll want to talk to us?’
‘No,’ I admitted, putting on my coat.
‘But we have to try.’
On the way to the cinema office, I opened up to Edward, probably to calm my nerves.
‘My mum had Alzheimer’s,’ I explained, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
‘It started when she was pregnant with me.
Her memory was…unpredictable.
Some days she knew exactly who I was.
And other days she looked at me like I was a stranger.’
Edward nodded gravely.
‘That must have been hard for you.’
‘It was,’ I said.
‘Especially because my father – I call him Thomas – decided to send her to a nursing home.
I understand why he did it, but over time he just stopped visiting her.
When my grandmother died, all the responsibility fell on me.
He helped financially, but he was…absent.
That’s the best word to describe him.
‘aloof. Always distant.’
Edward hardly said anything, but his presence kept me going.
When we reached the cinema, I froze before opening the door to Thomas’s office.
Inside, he was sitting at his desk, papers neatly spread out in front of him.
His sharp, penetrating gaze slid over me, then Edward.
‘What’s up?’
‘Hi, Dad. This is my friend Edward,’ I murmured.
‘Go on.’ His face remained unmoved.
‘I need to ask you about a man who worked here years ago.
About a woman named Evelyn.’
He froze for a split second, then leaned back in his chair.
‘I don’t discuss former employees.’
‘You have to make an exception,’ I insisted.
‘Edward has been looking for her for decades.
We deserve answers.’
Thomas’s gaze slid to Edward and narrowed slightly.
‘I don’t owe him anything. In fact, neither do you.’
Edward spoke for the first time.
‘I loved her. She was everything to me.’
Thomas’s jaw tensed.
‘Her name wasn’t Evelyn.’
‘What?’ – I blinked.
‘She called herself Evelyn, but her real name was Margaret,’ he admitted, and his words cut the air.
‘Your mother.
She made up that name because she was having an affair with him,’ he pointed at Edward, ’and thought I wouldn’t recognise it.’
Silence hung in the room. Edward’s face went pale.
‘Margaret?’
‘She was pregnant when I found out,’ Thomas continued bitterly.
‘By you, as it turned out.’
He looked at me, his cold expression trembling for the first time.
‘I thought if I cut her off from him, she’d rely on me.
But that didn’t happen. And when you were born…’
Thomas sighed heavily.
‘I knew I wasn’t your father.’
I felt dizzy and waves of disbelief came over me.
‘You knew all along?’
‘I cared about her,’ he said, avoiding my gaze.
‘About you. But I couldn’t stay.’
Edward’s voice cut through the silence.
‘Margaret is Evelyn?’
‘She was Margaret to me,’ Thomas answered dryly.
‘But apparently with you she wanted to be someone else.’
Edward sank into a chair, his hands trembling.
‘She never told me that. I…I didn’t know anything.’
I shifted my gaze between the two of them, feeling my heart racing.
So Thomas wasn’t my father at all.
‘I think,’ I said, ’we should go visit her. Together.’
I looked at Edward and then turned to Thomas, holding his gaze.
‘The three of us. Christmas is a time of forgiveness, and if there was ever a moment to make things right, it’s now.’
For a moment, I thought Thomas would chuckle derisively or dismiss the idea.
But to my surprise, he hesitated, his stern gaze softening.
Silently, he rose, picked up his coat, and nodded.
‘Let’s do it,’ he said hoarsely, putting on his coat.
We drove to the nursing home in silence.
Edward sat next to me, his hands folded tightly in his lap.
Thomas sat in the back, his posture tense, his gaze fixed on the window.
When we arrived, the festive wreath on the door of the establishment seemed out of place.
Mum was sitting in her usual place by the window in the living room, her frail figure wrapped in a warm knitted cardigan.
She was looking out the window, her face seemed distant, as if she were lost in another world.
Her hands lay still in her lap, even as we came closer.
‘Mum,’ I called softly, but there was no response.
Edward took a step forward, his movements slow and careful.
He looked up at her.
‘Evelyn.’ The change was instantaneous.
Her head turned towards him, there was clarity in her eyes.
A light seemed to come on inside her.
Slowly she stood up.
‘Edward?’ – she whispered.
He nodded.
‘It’s me, Evelyn. It’s me.’
Tears filled her eyes, and she took an uncertain step forward.
‘You’re here.’
‘I never stopped waiting,’ he replied, his eyes glistening with tears as well.
As I watched them, I felt my heart fill with feelings I couldn’t fully comprehend.
It was their moment, but it was also mine.
I turned to Thomas, who stood a few steps behind me with his hands in his pockets.
His usual sternness was gone, replaced by something that seemed almost vulnerable.
‘We did the right thing to come,’ I said quietly.
He nodded faintly, but said nothing.
His gaze lingered on Mum and Edward, and for the first time I saw something resembling regret.
Outside, the snow began to fall quietly, blanketing the world in a calm, peaceful blanket.
‘Let it not end here,’ I said, interrupting the silence.
‘It’s Christmas time.
How about we grab a hot chocolate and watch a Christmas film?
Together.’
Edward’s eyes sparkled.
Thomas hesitated.
‘That sounds…good,’ he said hoarsely, but his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.
On that day, four lives intertwined in ways none of us could have imagined.
We began a new story together that took years to reach its conclusion – and a new beginning.
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