I walked into Central Park that Saturday afternoon with a stack of flyers in one hand and a coffee in the other. The sun was out, warm for October, and kids were running everywhere, laughing like the world was still simple. My charity group "Bright Futures" was setting up a booth near the zoo entrance. We handed out information about after-school programs for kids who needed extra help. Reading. Math. Art. Anything to keep them off the streets and dreaming bigger.
I loved this work. Really loved it. Not the fake kind of love you show at galas for photos. The real kind. When a shy nine-year-old came up and whispered that she wanted to be a marine biologist because of the whale facts Sophia kept telling her, I felt something light up inside me. Something that didn't depend on Marcus or money or what anybody else thought.
I smiled at the girl, knelt down so we were eye to eye. "You know humpback whales sing songs that travel miles underwater? You could study that one day. Travel the world. Find out what they're really saying."
Her eyes went wide. "You think I could?"
"I know you could."
She hugged me quick, then ran back to her mom. I stood up, chest full, and caught Lila watching me from the other side of the booth. She raised one eyebrow, the way she does when she's about to say something I don't want to hear.
"You're good at this, you know," she said, handing me a fresh stack of brochures. "The kids light up around you. You should do it full-time."
I laughed, soft. "Full-time? With Sophia's schedule and Marcus's… everything? No chance."
Lila rolled her eyes. "Marcus's everything is code for 'he's never home and when he is, he's on his phone.'"
I glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear. "Keep your voice down."
"Why? It's true." She leaned in, voice lower but still sharp. "You're thirty-eight, Elena. Gorgeous. Smart. Kind. And you're wasting away in that fancy apartment playing perfect wife. When's the last time you felt… alive?"
I swallowed. The word hit too close. Alive. That was the exact feeling I'd lost somewhere between saying "I do" and waking up every morning next to a stranger.
"Last night," I said quietly. "When I got that message."
Lila's eyes narrowed. "From Alexander?"
I nodded once.
She whistled low. "And you replied?"
"'Okay.' That's all."
"That's enough." She grinned, wicked. "Girl, you just cracked the door open to your first love. The Greek-god billionaire version of your first love. What are you going to do when you see him at the gala?"
"I don't know." My stomach flipped just thinking about it. "Pretend I'm fine. Smile. Say hello like we're old friends. Then go home to my husband and daughter."
Lila snorted. "Sure. And I'm the next pope."
A family walked up then, mom, dad, two little boys so we switched to professional mode. I smiled, explained the programs, signed up the older boy for free art classes. They thanked me, left happy. But Lila wasn't done.
Later, when the crowd thinned and we were packing up flyers, she cornered me again.
"Be honest," she said. "When Marcus touches you… does it feel like anything anymore?"
I froze, hands full of paper. The question hung there, heavy.
"No," I admitted. "It feels like… going through the motions. Like I'm checking a box so he won't feel bad. Or so I won't feel guilty for not wanting it."
She nodded slowly. "And when you think about Alexander?"
Heat rushed to my face. "It's different. Even just the memory. My whole body remembers. The way he used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. The way he kissed me like he'd die if he stopped."
Lila didn't laugh or tease. She just watched me, serious. "You deserve that again, Elena. Not scraps. Not polite forehead kisses. Real fire."
I looked down at the flyers in my hands. "Bright Futures". That's what we called the charity. Funny how I could help other people's kids dream big, but I'd stopped dreaming for myself a long time ago.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"Of what?"
"Of wanting it so bad I do something stupid. Of hurting Sophia. Of blowing up the only life I know."
Lila put a hand on my arm. "And what if staying hurts more in the long run? What if you wake up in ten years and realize you never really lived?"
I didn't have an answer. Not one I could say out loud.
We finished packing in silence. The sun was dropping now, turning the park gold. Families headed home. Joggers slowed. I zipped my jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder.
Lila hugged me quick. "Think about it. Really think. And if you go to that gala… don't lie to yourself about what you feel when you see him."
I nodded. "I won't."
But as I walked toward the subway, Sophia's school pickup next on my list, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Another message from him.
Can't stop thinking about you. Saturday can't come fast enough.
I stared at the words until they blurred.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
I didn't reply.
But I didn't delete it either.
And that small choice felt bigger than anything I'd done in years.
The train rattled underground while I stood holding the pole, heart pounding like I was eighteen again.
Saturday was coming.
And I wasn't sure which version of me would show up.