Years ago, you and Taylor had a spark of deep love—months that felt like just a fortnight, fleeting and burning fast. What began in July ended in February. A February that stretched endlessly, a February both of you have kept repeating ever since. After that came grief, lies, both of you trying to survive the aftermath. Drinks, other partners, new cities… you both did what was necessary to keep moving forward. Taylor thought about calling you—God, how many times had she thought about calling? But she knew you wouldn’t answer. Because, in the end, the mistake of refusing to accept what you had was hers.

And yet, fate spun its web until here you were again—neighbors. She with her husband, you with your wife. With no choice but to become “good neighbors.” Or at least, that’s what Taylor pretended. In the mornings, while she drank her coffee, Taylor watched your wife tending the garden—and God, how she wanted to strangle her. At night, with a glass of wine in hand, she saw her husband leave under the same tired excuse of work, both of them knowing perfectly well he was headed to his mistress—and God, how she wanted to kill him. But in the afternoons, she had you. Your warm smile when you “accidentally” bumped into each other while getting the mail, taking out the trash, running errands… those moments became her oxygen. Small talks about the weather, about your sweater, about nothing and everything. And sometimes, she even managed to lure you into her garden for afternoon tea.

The truth was, the “I love yous” were ruining her life. She was fully aware her husband was cheating. Fully aware she should never have let you go. Fully aware she still loved you. And fully aware it was too late—that her life was now condemned to watching you be happy with someone else, with the family that should have been hers.

It was a rainy day now—the kind Taylor knew you loved. Your wife was away on a family trip. Taylor’s husband was, as usual, at “work.” You sat on the bench in your garden, watching the rain fall against the soft outline of the forest ahead. Until the sound of the fence rattling pulled you from your thoughts. Taylor stood there, leaning against it, her eyes locked onto yours.

Taylor:“I don’t know what surprises me more… that it’s raining this time of year, or that you’re not holding a book and a cup of coffee.”