Way To Airport

I couldn't help but feel the weight of my loneliness. Five years had passed since my wife's untimely death on our honeymoon, and it seemed like an eternity had gone by without her. Despite my parents' best efforts to cheer me up and encourage me to start dating again, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. My heart had been shattered, and I didn't think it could ever be put back together.

As the car drove down the highway, I gazed out the window at the passing scenery, lost in thought. Suddenly, my attention was drawn to a woman walking on the sidewalk. She looked vaguely familiar, and my heart skipped a beat when I realized who it was. It was her.

My wife.

Or at least, someone who looked just like her. I felt a surge of hope and disbelief, but I quickly tried to talk myself out of it. It couldn't be her, I thought. She was gone.

But something inside me refused to let go of the possibility. I asked the driver to pull over and watched as the woman walked past us. She turned her head and caught my eye, and I could see the same shock and recognition in her expression that I felt in mine.

Without thinking, I got out of the car and walked over to her. "Excuse me," I said, my voice trembling. "I know this might sound crazy, but...have we met before?"

She looked at me for a long moment, and then she smiled. "Yes," she said softly. "We have."

My heart leapt in my chest. It was her. It was really her.

We spent the next few hours talking, catching up on everything that had happened in our lives since we last saw each other. It turned out that she had been traveling around Europe for the past few years, trying to find herself after a difficult breakup. She had never stopped thinking about me, she said, and had even tried to contact me a few times, but had never been able to find me.

As we sat in a small café, sipping coffee and talking, it was as if no time had passed at all. We laughed and joked, reminiscing about old times and sharing our hopes and dreams for the future.

But as much as I wanted to believe that this was fate, that we were meant to find each other again, I couldn't help but feel anxious. What if it wasn't really her? What if I was just imagining things, projecting my longing onto a stranger?

I tried to keep my doubts to myself, but she could sense that something was bothering me. "What's wrong?" she asked, taking my hand in hers.

I hesitated for a moment, and then I told her everything. About how I had lost her on our honeymoon, about how I had given up on love and resigned myself to a life of solitude. I expected her to be frightened or repulsed, but instead she just looked at me with compassion in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "That must have been so hard for you."

And then, to my surprise, she leaned in and kissed me. It was a gentle, tentative kiss, but it was enough to send shivers down my spine. I felt alive again, for the first time in years.

We spent the rest of the day together, exploring the city and getting to know each other all over again. As the sun began to set, we found ourselves standing on a bridge overlooking the river, watching the boats go by.

"I know this might be too soon," she said, turning to face me. "But I can't help how I feel. I've missed you so much, and I don't want to let