I snuck into the bathroom to change into something more comfortable, my heart light with happiness.
But when I returned to the bedroom, an unexpected sight caught up with me.
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, talking quietly to someone…who wasn’t there.
My heart sank.
‘I wanted you to see this, Stacey. Today was perfect…I only wish you could have been here,’ Steve said, his voice full of emotion.
As if dumbfounded, I stood in the doorway, trying to realise what I had heard.
‘Steve?’, I called out, my voice shaking.
He turned around slowly, a look of guilt on his face.
‘Amber, I…’
I stepped closer, feeling the weight of unspoken words between us.
‘Who…who were you talking to?’
He sighed, and his shoulders slumped.
‘I was talking to Stacey. To my daughter.’
I stared at him, trying to comprehend what he’d said.
He’d told me his daughter had died, but I didn’t know anything about…that.
‘She died in a car accident, along with her mother,’ he continued, his voice trailing off.
‘But sometimes I talk to her. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like she’s still with me.
Especially today. I wanted her to know about you. I wanted her to see how happy I am.’
I didn’t know what to say.
My chest constricted and the room felt like it was shrinking.
Steve’s grief was palpable, raw, and it seemed to belong to both of us now.
But I didn’t feel fear.
I didn’t feel anger.
I felt only…sadness.
Sadness for him, for all he had lost, and for the weight he carried alone.
His pain flowed through me as if it were my own.
I sat down next to him and took his hand in mine.
‘I understand,’ I said quietly.
‘You’re not crazy, Steve. You’re worried.’
He sighed, his breathing ragged, and he looked at me with such vulnerability that my heart nearly burst.
‘I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘You don’t scare me,’ I assured him and squeezed his hand.
‘We all have things that haunt us.
But now we’re together.
We can carry this weight together.’
Steve’s eyes filled with tears and I pulled him to me, hugging him tightly as the weight of everything-his grief, his love, his fear-rested between us.
‘Maybe we should talk to someone. Maybe a therapist. It doesn’t have to be just you and Stacey.’
He nodded at my shoulder, his grip tightening.
‘I’ve been thinking about it. I just didn’t know how to start. Thank you for understanding me, Amber. I didn’t know how much I needed it.’
I pulled back a little, looked into his eyes, and my heart filled with love, deeper than I could have ever imagined.
‘We’ll figure it out, Steve. Together.’
And when I kissed him, I knew we’d work it out.
We weren’t perfect, but we were real – and for the first time, that was enough.
That’s the special thing about love, isn’t it?
It’s not about finding someone perfect without scars; it’s about finding someone whose scars you’re willing to share.