My 70-year-old grandma got a Valentine’s gift from the only man she ever truly loved—a love she lost fifty years ago. But when she refused to see him, afraid of what the past might bring, I knew I had to step in. Could I reunite them after all this time, or was some love meant to stay in the past?
When you’re in a relationship, Valentine’s Day feels like a magical holiday—romance everywhere, couples in love, and happiness all around. But when you’re single, Valentine’s Day becomes nothing more than a cruel joke, a reminder of how miserable you are—romance everywhere, annoying couples in love, and everyone is happy except you. It wasn’t just the holiday itself; it was everything leading up to it.
I could practically feel the universe mocking me. Being single, I could no longer stand the sight of all the hearts, plush toys, and flowers. To escape it all, I decided to visit my grandmother.
She lived in a small town where things moved slower, and holidays didn’t feel as overwhelming. There were still three days left until Valentine’s Day, and I counted each one, waiting for it to be over. I just wanted life to go back to normal, without the constant reminder of how painfully single I was.
Suddenly, my grandmother’s voice called out from the other room. “Natalie!” Her voice was sharp, urgent. “Yes?” I asked, stepping into the room.
She sat in her chair by the window, a letter in her hand. She held the envelope up, frowning. “I can’t find my glasses.
Who is this letter from?”
I took the envelope from her and glanced at the handwriting. It was neat, careful, unfamiliar. I turned it over and saw a name scrawled on the back.
“It’s from someone named Todd,” I said. Her expression changed. “Todd?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
“That… that can’t be.”
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 card slipped out, along with a folded note.
She picked up both, staring at them like they might disappear. Then she held them out to me. “Read it,” she said.
I unfolded the Valentine’s card first. “The card says, ‘I still love you.’” My chest tightened. “That’s… really sweet.”
She didn’t react.
Her eyes stayed locked on the note. “And the letter? What does the letter say?” she pressed.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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