Unfinished conversations

@urchpuppi · 2025-09-08 11:52 · The Ink Well

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‎ ‎It's been years since we had all been in one place. College reunion never really worked out. Each of us had all gotten occupied with one thing or the other; like family and work. Daniel, Anna, Clara and I had all agreed to spend a couple of days together, just like the good old times. ‎ ‎On the first evening after dinner, we sat together on the deck. ‎ ‎“So,” Clara said, raising up her glass, “To old friends and new memories.” ‎ ‎We clinked glasses. We began talking about work, kids, how adulthood had changed our lives. But beneath all this talk, I could sense there was something we all were trying to avoid to talk about. ‎ ‎When the plates were cleared and bottle were empty, Daniel said, “Crazy, isn't it? How fast ten years go.” ‎ ‎“Faster when you were trying to forget half of it,” Anna murmured. ‎ ‎“What do you mean by that,” Clara asked. ‎ ‎“Nothing—just old memories,” replied Anna. ‎ ‎That we all could tell that there was a lot more to that. ‎ ‎The next morning, we were taking a walk. Daniel walked ahead with Anna, while Clara and I walked behind. ‎ ‎“You've noticed it too, haven't you?” Clara said quietly. ‎ ‎“What?” I asked, though I already knew. ‎ ‎“The way the look at each other.” ‎ ‎Anna had been careful—always careful—but being here, with the four of us together, it was difficult to hide. Back in school, before she and I had become serious, before Clara had entered Daniel's life, there had been a spark between them. A kiss at a party. Late night talks took a bit longer than usual. Nothing they claimed was “serious,” but it was hard to get off the mind. ‎ ‎We had all chosen to overlooked it. To move on. Until now. ‎ ‎Later that night, we sat on the rug in the middle of the living room as we shared a bottle of wine. Daniel finally spoke. ‎ ‎“Alright,” he said. “Are we all to pretend we don't feel it? Like there isn't an elephant in the room?” ‎ ‎Clara put down her glass of wine. “Finally. Thank you.” ‎ ‎At this point, I could tell our evening was about to take a new turn. ‎ ‎“Anna,” Daniel said, looking straight into her eyes, “don't.” ‎ ‎Clara turned to me. “And you—you knew, didn't you?” ‎ ‎I open my mouth and tried to say something but the words refused to come out. Because yes—I had known. For years I had chosen to bury it, to build a life with Anna, hoping the past would stay where it belonged. ‎ ‎It was now Anna finally spoke. “It was a long time ago. Before any of this mattered. I love —” She stopped and looked at me. “I chose this life. With him.” ‎ ‎But the way Daniel looked at her seemed to be telling a different story. ‎ ‎No one slept that night. I lay awake throughout, wondering if I'd been fooling myself all these years. ‎ ‎ ‎The next morning we gathered for coffee. But this time it was a lot quieter than before. Clara sat with her hands firmly gripped to her mug. ‎ ‎“I don't think I can seat here and pretend to not see you two exchange glances,” she said. “I deserve better than that.” ‎ ‎Daniel didn't argue. He just stared out through the window like there was something going on outside. ‎ ‎By the time we packed up on Sunday, the house wasn't really the same way it was when we arrived. We casually hugged goodbye, but it felt odd. ‎ ‎Anna sat quietly as we drove away, with a remorseful expression on her face. ‎ ‎“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “For all of it.” ‎ ‎I held the wheels tighter. “Sorry doesn't erase what's there.” ‎ ‎She didn't respond, neither did I. We just kept our thoughts to ourselves till we made it to our destination. ‎ ‎Looking back now, I wonder if the weekend was a mistake—or maybe it was necessary. Sometimes we bury things so deep we convince ourselves they are gone. But time, distance, even love—none of it erases the past. ‎ ‎It waits. And when it resurfaces, it demands to be faced. ‎ ‎The vacation didn't destroy us,not entirely. But it reminded us that relationships are not just built on the present—they are built on everything that came before. ‎

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