My 70-year-old grandmother received a Valentine’s Day card from the only man she ever truly loved, a love she lost 50 years ago. However, she refused to see him again, fearing what the past might bring. I knew then that I had to intervene. Would I be able to reunite them after all this time, or was love destined to remain in the past?
When you’re in a relationship, Valentine’s Day is a magical holiday: romance is everywhere, couples are in love, and happiness is everywhere.
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On the other hand, when you’re single, Valentine’s Day is nothing more than a cruel joke, a reminder of how sad you are: love everywhere, annoying couples in love, and the fact that everyone is happy except you.
It’s not just the party itself, it’s everything that leads up to it. I felt like the universe was laughing at me.
Being single, I couldn’t stand seeing all those hearts, stuffed animals and flowers anymore.
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To escape all this, I decided to visit my grandmother. She lived in a small town where things move more slowly and the holidays aren’t as stressful.
There were still three days left until Valentine’s Day and I counted them down, waiting for them to end.
I just wanted life to go back to normal, without constantly reminding myself how alone I was.
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Suddenly, my grandmother’s voice rang out from the other room.
“Natalie!” His voice was high-pitched, urgent.
“Yes?” I asked as I entered the room.
She was sitting in her chair by the window, a letter in her hand. She held up the envelope, frowning. “I can’t find my glasses. Who is this letter from?”
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I took the envelope from her and glanced at the handwriting. It was neat, attentive, unfamiliar.
I turned it over and saw a name scribbled on the back. “It’s from someone named Todd,” I said.
Her expression changed. “Todd?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “This… this can’t be possible.”
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She snatched the letter from my hands before I could say another word. Her fingers trembled as she tore it open.
A small Valentine’s Day card popped out, along with a folded note. She picked them up, staring at them as if they might disappear. Then she handed them to me.
“Read it,” she said.
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I unfolded the Valentine’s Day card first. The card read, “I still love you.” My chest tightened. “That’s… really sweet.”
She didn’t react. Her eyes remained fixed on the note. “And the letter? What does it say?” she persisted.
I took a breath and opened the paper. The handwriting was elegant, neat, as if someone had taken their time with each word. I began to read aloud.
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“My dearest Mary, fifty years ago, you and I spent only one night together. A night that changed me forever. I never forgot you, but I had no idea how to find you again. You never came to the train station in Paris that day, and you broke my heart forever.”
I swallowed hard and looked up. My grandmother was sitting frozen, her hands clasped. I continued.
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“But I found you through your granddaughter’s social media. If you still remember me, if that night means anything to you, meet me at the train station in New York the same night we last saw each other. Forever, Todd.”
Silence filled the room. My throat was tight. I fought back tears, but my grandmother didn’t even try to hold back hers.
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“Who is Todd?” I asked quietly.
She wiped her face with her sleeve and took a shaky breath. “The only man I’ve ever truly loved,” she whispered.
I stared at her. “What? And Grandpa?”
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She looked down at the letter on her lap. “I loved your grandfather,” she said. “But I loved Todd with the kind of love poems and songs are written about. Even though we only spent one night together, he understood me better than anyone.”
“Did this happen in Paris?” I asked.
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She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “I was there as a tourist. Todd was a student. We met on the subway. We spent all night walking around the city, talking…”
“The next morning, I was supposed to fly home. Todd drove me to the train station so I could go to the airport, and we agreed to meet a year later, on the same day, at the same train station.”
“And what happened?”
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Her smile faded. She swallowed hard. “My mother died. Her funeral was the same day I was supposed to fly to Paris to meet Todd.”
I exhaled slowly. “Did you tell him?”
“How?” she asked me, shaking her head. “I didn’t have his address. There were no cell phones back then.”
“So you never saw him again?”
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She shook her head.
“What day was it?”
His voice was barely audible. “February 14th.”
I sighed, staring at the letter. “The most romantic day of the year, in the most romantic city on the planet.”
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A sad smile touched his lips.
“You have to go meet him,” I said.
His face hardened. “No. Absolutely not.”
“For what ?”
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“I let him down that day. Who knows how our lives would have turned out if I had gone?”
“But he wants to see you now!” I argued.
His hands gripped the letter tightly. “No. End of discussion.”
My grandmother is a stubborn woman. Once she makes a decision, there’s no changing her mind.
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I knew she wouldn’t agree to meet Todd, even if I begged her. So I had to take matters into my own hands.
A little cunning never hurt anyone, especially when it’s for a good cause.
On February 14, I put on my coat and grabbed the car keys. “Grandma, I have an errand to run. Come with me,” I said casually.
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She sat in her chair, knitting, barely looking up. “What kind of race?”
“It’ll be quick,” I said. “I don’t want to go alone.”
She sighed and put down her knitting. “All right, all right. Let me get my coat.”
We got into the car and I started driving. The first few minutes were quiet, just the sound of the road beneath the tires. Then she glanced out the window and frowned.
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“Natalie,” she said slowly. “Where exactly are we going?”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “To the station,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Which station?”
I cleared my throat. “New York.”
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She tilted her head towards me. “What?!”
“You have to meet Todd,” I said. “He remembered you even after all these years.”
His face turned red. “No way! Turn around!”
“No,” I said firmly.
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She crossed her arms and huffed. “Then I won’t talk to you anymore.” She turned her face toward the window, her lips pressed into a thin line.
The rest of the ride was silent. She refused to look at me. I knew she was upset, but I also knew she needed this.
When we finally arrived at the station, I parked the car and turned to her. “Come on,” I said.
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She didn’t move.
“Grandmother”.
Still nothing.
I sighed. “You may be stubborn, but so am I,” I said.
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She turned around, narrowed her eyes, then slowly got out of the car. I then took her arm and guided her inside.
The station was bustling, filled with people rushing in different directions. I scanned the crowd, looking for a man in his seventies. My heart was pounding.
But I didn’t see anyone.
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My grandmother let out a deep breath. “He’s not coming,” she said. “He probably wanted revenge on me for not coming all those years ago.”
I didn’t want to believe it, but the longer we stood there without seeing Todd, the more I began to doubt he was coming.
But then a man about my age walked towards us. He looked nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
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“Are you Mary?” he asked.
My grandmother straightened up. “Yes. Who are you, young man?”
“My name is Justin. I’m Todd’s grandson,” he said. “I sent you the letter.”
My mouth fell open. “What?! Does Todd even know?”
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Justin hesitated. “No,” he admitted. “But he told me the story. He said he’d spent his whole life regretting never finding you. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. So I found you, Natalie, and then I found Mary because of you.”
I threw my arms up in the air. “So we came all this way for nothing?!”
“No,” Justin said quickly. “My grandfather wants to see Mary. But he’s afraid she won’t want to see him.”
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My grandmother shook her head. “I told you we shouldn’t have come.” She turned to leave.
“Wait,” I said. “How do I know Todd isn’t just going to slam the door in my grandmother’s face?”
Justin’s eyes softened. “He won’t,” he said. “Every word of that letter was his. I only wrote it because he didn’t have the courage to do it.”
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My grandmother snickered. “If he really wanted that, he would have written it himself.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, you didn’t go to Paris fifty years ago, and you were afraid to come here too,” I said. “So… do you want to see Todd or not?”
She didn’t answer.
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“Please,” Justin said. “I just want to make my grandpa happy.”
I caught my breath. “We’ll go see him,” I said. “Someone should be able to be in love on Valentine’s Day.”
Justin smiled. “Oh, I don’t need you to tell me!”
We arrived at Todd’s apartment building. Justin led us to the apartment and knocked on the door.
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“Grandpa, it’s me!” he said.
A voice was heard from inside. “I’m coming!”
Justin turned to me and pulled me away. My grandmother stood alone in the doorway.
The handle turned. The door opened.
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A man came out. His hair was gray, his posture slightly hunched. His face changed as soon as he saw her.
“Mary…” he whispered.
I jumped and covered my mouth with my hand. Even Justin looked stunned.
“You remember me,” my grandmother said softly.
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Todd’s eyes filled with emotion. “How could I forget?”
They stood frozen, staring at each other. Neither spoke.
Then Todd stepped forward and hugged my grandmother. She let out a small sob as she clung to him.
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Justin turned to me. “We did well,” he said. “You convinced Mary to come, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“We make a good team,” he said, smiling. “Maybe we should celebrate over dinner?”
I smiled. “We’ll see.”
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