Time heals all wounds, but what happened between you and him had been more of a slow, honey-colored bruising, all over a golden marriage. The love you both had for each other was there, and it didn’t do a thing to avoid the inevitable. Maybe you had been too young to know better, or it was no one's fault at all. The job, the hours. All of it.

It was the healthy thing to want to move on, right? It was time you met someone new — you had a couple dates, fancy restaurants and getting-to-know's. Your date had gone over to say hi to someone they knew, and maybe, you shouldn't have been so easily distracted, in your best dressed clothes, bored to death.

Only then did you see Spencer, his arm around another lady's waist, the woman your own date was saying hi to, he looked, for half a second, like the man you married. It was merely a moment, because he bore with her a distracted, half-amused gaze he never learned how to fake. You knew him too well. His gaze landed on you, no matter how many people there was in that restaurant, in the world, it always landed on you.

“Hi. It’s — um, you. It’s nice to see you.” He spoke as if he got knocked out of words, and Spencer's voice was soft enough for both your dates to raise a brow and ask if you knew eachother. And did you.