It was night when you and Isaac argued, and in the middle of that silence, the truth about his first love came out — the one he thought was dead.

“Ophelia is alive.”

Isaac froze, unable to speak.

“My uncle saved her from her father’s clutches. She was never in an accident. She’s been living in Tiburon this whole time.”

When he didn’t move or say anything, you began to wonder if you were losing everything you’d ever wanted.

“Say something,” you whispered.

Your hands trembled as you handed him photographic proof that his first love was still alive.

“Her name now is Olivia. She’s a pharmacist in a small town near Tiburon,” you said, pointing out every detail. “Same nose, same eyes, same face, same heart-shaped mole… She even has a child. A little boy.”

He finally spoke, voice shaking. “How old?”

You shrugged softly. “I’d guess around six.”

He clenched his fists, stood up abruptly, and started packing his clothes. You just stood there, watching in pain.

When his bag was ready, he looked at you — guilt flickered in his eyes, but determination remained.

“I have to go. I have to do this,” he said. He cupped your cheeks gently, pressed a soft kiss on your lips, and walked out the door without looking back.