They say time is the best healer.
A year later, on New Year's Day, Amanda finally stepped into the apartment Lucas once called home.
Per her instructions, the place had been meticulously maintained.
Every trinket, every framed photo, every little ornament remained exactly where it had always been, as if frozen in time—as if Lucas had never left.
Amanda picked up a broom and began to clean, her movements slow, deliberate.
Just then, a letter arrived.
At first, she paid it no mind.
But when she saw the sender's name, her fingers trembled ever so slightly.
The letter contained only a single sentence.
Yet, Amanda stood there motionless, as if every ounce of strength had been drained from her body.
The housekeeper approached cautiously, hesitating at the sight of her standing in the doorway, dazed.
"Ms. Johnson, are you alright?"
Amanda blinked and shook her head. Then, with an almost reverent tenderness, she folded the letter and the photograph that had come with it, as if afraid they might crumble at the slightest mishandling.
The photo slipped slightly in her grasp, giving the housekeeper a clear view of its contents.
Lucas and Sophie, dressed in matching outfits, stood side by side beneath a sky bursting with fireworks, the air thick with the promise of spring.
The housekeeper had heard whispers of Amanda and Lucas's past.
Seeing that photo now, a tight knot formed in her chest.
But Amanda remained composed.
"He's happy."
"That girl... she really loves him."
"They're getting married."
Her voice was quiet, as if she were merely stating facts.
Or perhaps, reminding herself.
Lucas was happy. He didn't need her anymore.
A year had passed. She had convinced herself she had moved on...
Yet, as if all strength had abandoned her, Amanda reached out to grip the edge of the table, her legs giving way as she sank onto the sofa.
She stared at the photograph, trying to muster a smile.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't do it.
In the end, she simply covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling ever so slightly.
The housekeeper quietly retreated, leaving her alone.
Amanda sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, time dissolving around her.
For a fleeting moment, she could almost see him—Lucas stepping through the door, smiling at her with that same familiar gentleness.
She reached out.
But her fingers met only empty air.
Just another illusion.
The letter's message was simple.
Stop punishing yourself. Live well. Happy New Year.
It was a long time before Amanda finally picked up a pen and wrote her reply.
Congratulations on your wedding, Lucas.
———END