In the City of Love
She used to think it would be so different than this. That they would see each other and all would be forgiven. She never imagined he would look different - older, more serious, but without a trace of bitterness as he offered his hand to Harry. She always thought she would run to him, slap him and then pull him into kiss, not sit demurely turned away, her hands on her swollen belly, on her comfort and penance.
She would never know if he looked at her. And she wouldn’t see him again until he had a child of his own. And a wife whose hand he held as he walked along the platform of their childhood. She imagined that he held her hand when they walked along the cobblestone streets of the city of love in their adulthood.
Sometimes her marriage, her life, the choices that she made and the things she could not control tasted like ashes in her mouth. She pushed away the dessert she had been eating. By the time she turned again, he was gone and her husband was walking back to her.