Lia may have preferred to leave the beginning of her story untold, as it wasn’t the greatest chapter in her life. Her affection for someone who wasn’t even aware of her deep feelings was painful, to put it mildly. Nonetheless, that is where this story begins.

Early morning, Lia loved opening her vintage boutique. Where the scent of lavender and aged fabric surrounded her, like a page from the past. She cherished her little shop and the thrill of discovering beautiful pieces, each one telling its own story. Each day unfolded like a well-curated storybook, captivating her customers—women who delighted in the nostalgia of stepping back in time, often sharing laughter and whimsical tales over tea.

But today her mind was on an unforgettable evening with Hank—a dinner date that promised happily ever after. Why else would he take her to the most elegant restaurant in town? Her imagination soared—a ring glinting in the candlelight like scenes from a romantic movie.

She glanced at her manicured nails—the soft, blush pink polish shimmered under the chandelier, a perfect match for a romantic proposal. Her heart raced with excitement as she gracefully descended the stairs, her mind filled with their last conversation, where he had hinted at a special dinner. All the signs were there—tonight was the night.

“‘Sadie, Sadie, married lady.’” Lia quoted a line from “Funny Girl” as she waved to Maggie, the owner of the antique shop downstairs. 

“Tomorrow, I want details.” Maggie’s melodic voice followed her outside, fading into the background as she reversed from the parking space. The sparkling azure sea added to her fantasy as she sped down the coastal road, the salty breeze blowing her hair. Visions of a summer wedding on the beach played in her mind—it would be everything she had ever dreamed of. At the sign for the Sea Crest Inn, she turned right, pulled into the valet lane, and handed her keys to the attendant. And with her foot on the first step, Lia reminded herself to stay grounded.

                                                                                        * * *

In the bustling lobby, Hank stared out a window toward the waves, his frame silhouetted against the setting sun. His masculine stance, the fit of his police uniform. In that moment, a wave of certainty startled Lia—she would soon become a Mrs. to his Mr. It stole her breath away, as she anticipated a night of joy and celebration. She pictured the bottle of Perrier-Jouet adorned with a graceful spray of Japanese anemones, chilling at her place.

With a smile, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Hello, handsome.” She leaned in, softly kissing his cheek. Her heart filled with elation, but as Hank shifted his stance, she noticed the tension in his jaw, an edge of doubt in his eyes. Lia sensed his internal struggle. After all, this was a big step in their lives.

“Hello, Lia,” he responded after a pause, lacking his usual exuberance—the terms of endearment, his usual way of greeting her.

She ignored the uneasiness as they stepped through the rosewood doors of the Chantilly Rose Restaurant, each adorned with a delicate carved rose that invited them inside. The decor blended classic elegance with modern charm—a perfect reflection of the future she envisioned with Hank.

Seated along the glass wall overlooking the azure waves, each splash synchronized with the rhythm of her racing heart. Candelabras flickered around the room, casting a dreamy ambiance.

She closed her eyes, wanting to remember every detail. The sound of the waves. The soft golden light. The scent of roses in the salty air. Hank had chosen this enchanting place for a proposal—a moment to treasure forever. He knew her well—a true romantic at heart.

Leaning back, she savored a glass of crisp white wine, a smile trembling on her lips as she gazed into his eyes. He turned away, looking as if he were about to deliver bad news. What could be wrong? 

He reached across the table, his fingertips brushing hers. “I care for you.” The tension in his words shattered her dream of a proposal.

“I assume this isn’t a happy-ever-after conversation.” Her voice softened to a mere murmur. 

“If I wanted that with anyone … it would be you.” He downed his wine as if seeking courage. 

A wave of distress tightened in her chest. “What are you saying?” The impending breakup made it hard to breathe. 

He shifted in his chair, the tension thickening between them. “It’s complicated.” He refilled his glass. “Serenity Cove is a great little town. But I need more.” His delivery, rehearsed and distant, had her trembling as the evening morphed into a nightmare.

“The FBI accepted me into its training program.” For the first time that night, a spark of excitement radiated from him. Lia struggled to recall when she had last seen his eyes light up like that.

“FBI? When?” Panic surged as she pushed her drink aside, her appetite fading.

“My acceptance arrived last week. There were tons of forms—it was a long process.” Pride seeped into his tone as he refilled his glass once again. “I invited you to dinner to celebrate with me.”

To celebrate? She needed to escape. He clearly wasn’t in love with her. He wasn’t even aware of how deeply she cared for him. 

The illusion of their perfect life shattered, she clutched her evening bag like a shield against the harsh reality. She glared at him, desperate to run. “I wish you well.”

“I’d like to see you again before I leave.” He stood as if to escort her out, but she couldn’t bear to prolong this unbearable night. She bit back the tears, willing her heart to slow down. 

Suddenly, she reached for her drink and tossed it in his face. “Let’s consider this goodbye.” 

Hank grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. “This is not the Lia I know.”

“You’re right about that.” Without a glance back, she strode through the lobby, her steps unwavering as she passed other guests. She slipped through the garden patio, seeking solace beneath the moonlit sky.

                                                                                             * * *

The lamplit boardwalk, framed by whispering palms, overlooking the crashing waves, went unnoticed. The romantic evening she had envisioned crumbled like ashes beneath her feet. 

Of course, she had heard of partners getting it wrong, yet the ache in her heart said she’d never known Hank at all. If they were in love, wouldn’t he have shared his goals, his dreams, his desires?

An “aha moment” startled her. When had she trusted him with her deepest hopes? The realization crashed over her like a wave, dragging her deeper into despair. 

Memories of quiet evenings together replayed in her mind. How had she romanticized their relationship, confusing comfort for true love? Did he have regrets, or was he content to leave everything behind?

She stopped to catch her breath as a soft breeze blew through her hair. Tears flowed endlessly, like the waves before her. How would she face Maggie? For two years, she had dated a man whose hopes and dreams existed elsewhere. If he had left her for another woman, it might have been easier.

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