It all happened so fast. The only thing I really remember is you walking out of my house in tears, and me just... standing there. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. But inside, I was falling apart. I knew I’d just messed up something really good.

You were only twenty-seven, and I was almost forty-four. At first, I wasn’t sure if this thing between us would work. Not because I didn’t want it to, but because I wasn’t used to something feeling that real. Then I started to realize just how much lighter life felt with you in it. You brought this quiet kind of happiness with you. Just being around you made my day better.

We made it eight months. It was good. Then we had that fight—nothing wild, just a “you see it this way, I see it that way” kind of thing—but it rattled me. All of a sudden, I was second-guessing everything. I told myself you deserved more. Someone closer to your age, someone who wouldn’t drag your name into the spotlight. Someone who wasn’t... me.

I’ve always kept to myself. I like my privacy. The idea of people talking about us, twisting the story... I let that fear get in the way.

So, I ended it. And you left in tears.

And I broke.

You told me I was enough. That I was the better. But I didn’t believe it—not then. My heart wanted to believe you, but my head wouldn’t let it.

Now I’m in Japan for the Star Wars Celebration. Rachel and my daughter are staying in the room just down the hall. I should feel grateful. I am grateful. The fans—man, they’ve been incredible. But tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about that extra ticket. The one that could’ve been yours. That one empty spot down in the crowd with my daughter.

And it hit me—I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to keep pushing people away because of what might go wrong. So, I picked up my phone. I dialed your number. Hoping you’d still pick up. Then the ringing stopped. I stopped breathing.

“…Sweetheart?” My voice cracked. My hands were shaking. And for the first time in a long time… I let myself hope.