A Familiar Stranger.

Rain had just ended, leaving the streets of Georgetown with deep puddles, paves slicked as they shined under the glow of street lamps on Main Street. The grey overcast sky and bright lights painted a picture of sad romance, like a rose dripped in tears. Samuel wished it would rain like this everyday, it was cruel of the sun to bring laughter and promises of a better tomorrow when his heart was trapped in a box of regrets and sorrow; like a carnival of grief decorated with webs of brightly colored memories. Today was always the worst day for him, a reminder that he had once captured something spectacular, like dragonflies in a jar, before fate had snatched it away from him.

He had sat in bed that morning, staring at the framed photo he had never been ale to put away. In it, she was staring up at him, eyes a mixture of mischief and secrets, locks coiled down her back, smile a dazzling light that always chased his shadows away. He had nicknamed her Passion Fruit- not only because she was sweet and sultry but also because of her fierce nature, sharp witted tongue, the way she couldn't stand to see anyone wronged or suffering. The memory of her voice, the way she whispered his name in a heat of passion, all tugged at him. He moved with his head lowered, blind not from sight but from sorrow, for life no longer held anything worth looking at. Suddenly the sound of a familiar laughter lifted his gaze.

Across Regent Street, a young woman stepped out of a taxi. Samuel froze. The hair, the tilt of her head, —it was as if Romina had walked straight out of his memory and into the living world. He must he hallucinating from the endless abyss of his grief! My gawd! This was " impossible" he whispered, even as he stared in disbelief at her.

The woman turned. For a moment, time folded back like the pages of a book being flipped backward-her eyes, wide and bright, mirrored the ones he had never thought would glance back at him from across the street. He could barely speak, his legs felt weak. She smiled, a frown on her face and turned to walk away. Heart pounding, he dashed across the street in desperation before reason could stop him, he wasn't about to lose her again!

"Wait! Please!" he called after her, his voice cracked slightly, he was afraid that if he touched her she would disappear into the evening, like a cruel joke.

The woman turned around. The resemblance up close caused him to suck in a breath, his heart pounded wildly. He swallowed hard.

"Don't you remember me?"

Her brows Knit in confusion." No, I don't think so."

Up close, he saw the subtle differences- her features were softer, eyes steady with a hint of sadness, her smile forced instead of warm and open. But the resemblance was enough to make him tremble. He lifted his hands as if to touch her face and she shrunk back, his hands fell to his side, he sigh.

"You look like..." He hesitated. fighting the ache in his heart." Like someone I once knew."

Her expression soften just a little, a sympathetic smile tugged at her lips, and for a moment he could have sworn he saw a familiar flicker of mischief in her eyes but it was gone in a flash. "A, good someone I hope."

"The best. I'm sorry if this is weird." He apologized.

The stranger extended her hand. "I'm...." She paused slightly before clearing her throat, "My name is Amaia."

He stared at her hands for a moment, unsure what to do, still afraid that any contact with her would make her vanish, then he gently took it, with the slightest touch ." Samuel."

She smiled as they shook hands briefly and as she turned to leave, he felt the weight of both grief and something lighter. Suddenly, panic gripped his heart, he wasn't ready to let this person who looked so much like his lost love disappear just yet.

" Wait!" He pleaded. She stopped, glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

He took a step closer. " I know this might sound strange- we just met-but would you...would you have a drink with me? Just one. Please."

Amaia studied him, her face unreadable. Samuel felt exposed, a little foolish even, but he couldn't ignore the grief that hugged him. He hoped she would see that he was not a man chasing company for the night but only a broken man trying to lighten the heavy weight of grief with a familiar face.

He was relieved when she softly said, " You've lost someone haven't you?"

"The love of my life. Three years ago on this...this day." He was on the verge of tears. He swallowed the turmoil that coiled within him. "Seeing you....it's like..." He broke off, unable to finish, tears slid down his cheek, he felt no shame, just a crack in the dam that always threatened to shatter his resolve.

She looked at him again with the same mask expression on her face. Then a small smile tugged at her lips. " Alright," She said gently." One drink. I don't know why, but...I can't say no. Not with that look in your eyes."

Samuel felt a flood of relief and for the first time joy that he couldn't understand as they walked towards Palm Court. It was now dusk and though grief still clung to him like dirt on a kid his heart was a tiny bit warm.

The bar was quiet, it was too early for the usual party crowd. They slipped into a corner booth. The music hummed lightly in the background. A round face waitress took their order and left. For a moment, neither spoke. Samuel toyed with his fingers, finally he drew in a shaky breath." Her name was Romina. I called her Passion Fruit."

Amaia tilted her head, reminding him of her again, a smile tugged at her lips as she asked , " Why Passion Fruit?"

He didn't no why, but it felt easy to talk to her about the woman who he love even in death." Because she was adorable but always fierce like a heavy wind. She hated injustice and loved so freely."

He paused, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. " She was everything. And then one Sunday morning, she was gone. Just like that. Where she was only shadows live now, all the warmth turned to cold.

"I didn't know her," She whispered, her voice thick with emotion, " but hearing you talk about her...it hurts." She brushed away a tear in frustration and he was moved, that this stranger would share his grief.

" When I saw you tonight...you reminded me so much of her and for a moment I thought she had returned to me." He gave a broken laugh, " You must think I'm crazy."

She reached across the table, her hands rested gently on his and he felt a jolt of something warm. Her eyes shinned through her tears and again he was touched by her empathy. " Maybe I remind you of her because she's still alive in your heart. That kind of love doesn't just vanish ,Samuel. It imprints on the soul."

He stared at her hands in his. She wasn't his Romina but she felt like a bridge between what he had lost and what he could possibly still find. Tears burned his eyes.

"Listen , it's time you try to live again, you don't have to replace her," She quickly reassured him by squeezing his hands." But you can learn to love anew. Differently. Maybe even better."

Samuel blinked, his heart tightened. " I don't know if I can."

" You don't have to know tonight," She replied." But you can start by opening your heart to small things. Okay how about this..." She paused as the waitress brought their drinks. Then continued, " If I were her, just for a moment, what would be your one wish?"

Samuel stared at her. His mind suddenly conflicted. Pretend she was his Passion Fruit? The thought both hurt and comforted him. what would he do, if he had one more day with Romina?

" I'd dance with her, hold her close one last time. She loved to dance." He paused, then continued, despite the ache that slashed at his heart. " Then I'd take her to an open mic poetry event, she loved poems, said it was the unspoken language of the soul." For the first time in years he laughed- not a bitter sound, but a honest laughter. It surprised him.

He watched as she sprung up and made her way to the DJ, leaned in, pointed his way and said something to the bulky guy then glided back to him, so much like his Romina. He shook his head as if to clear a fog. By the time she got back to him, the song had changed to something slow and she stretched her hands out to him.

" She would have wanted you to live, the way she did, with passion. Would you, Samuel?"

He hesitated, caught between the past and the present. Then he nodded. " Yes. Let's"

On the small floor, they swayed slowly. Samuel closed his eyes, letting the moment wash over him. It was easy to imagine that the stranger in his arms was his forever love. They moved as if made for each other, and he held her tightly as deep sobs shook his body.

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t save you. I didn’t get to say goodbye. But you must know—you were my heart, my soul, bone of my bones. Oh, gosh! We both died that day; you just stopped breathing while my heart kept beating, hollow and broken. I wish I had been in that car with you, I would have taken your place a thousand times over. I only live to remember you… I ache, I’m bleeding life without you! I love you…so infinitely! More than my wretched existence. Why did life take you and leave me here? You were my life…you were everything!”

The words tumbled from him, uncontrolled, and he had no idea how long he wept, clutching her as if he could anchor himself to her. She didn’t respond, but he felt the tiny tremors rippling through her and knew she was weeping too.

Gradually, his sobs faded, replaced by a raw, aching need. He kissed her neck without thinking. The instant he realized what he had done, alarm shot through him. He pulled away, heart hammering, and retreated to their small booth, his hands trembling. his chest heaving, the warmth of her still lingering in the air. Every nerve in his body seemed alive with the echo of her presence, and he pressed his hands to his face, trying to stop the memories of the past and the flood of emotions from the present that consumed him. He felt like he was tittering on the edge of madness.

He could feel her eyes on him, though she said nothing. The silence was almost unbearable. He wanted to speak, to reach through the impossible to make it a reality.

She made a hasty retreat for the washroom and when she returned he was turning his glass in his hands, as he stared at the beads of perspiration. He was afraid she would scold him angrily, for letting his grief overwhelm him but instead she asked if he was okay. He Looked up at her with a rueful smile, his eyes a sea of loneliness ,sadness and longing he couldn’t hide.

" I can't stay much longer Samuel, but I want you to Know that you're an amazing man. Goodbye doesn't have to be an end, sometimes it's also hello waiting to greet you. live again and when you remember those bitter sweet days- smile.”

She reached out, brushing her fingers gently over his. The touch sent a bolt of desire through him, so strange yet achingly familiar, as if it was part of a memory he knew too well. His chest tightened; he felt a stirring of hope mingled with pain, a confusing yet undeniable echo of his Passion Fruit.

Overwhelmed, he excused himself and quickly retreated to the men's room. He leaned over the sink and ran his hands across his bald head to steady the storm of emotions that raged in his heart. How could she be so familiar yet unknown, for he had glimpse again his Passion fruit in her eyes. He couldn't make sense of this strange happenings.

He quickly returned to their booth but it was empty, heart pounding he eagerly glanced around the bar. Panic surged through him like a sharp cold fever. Oh gawd! She couldn't have vanished...just like Romina did! A cold dread settled over him. The waitress quickly came over to him and handed him a note.

Samuel’s hands shook as he unfolded the note. His heart thudded, each beat loud, heavy, desperate. The handwriting—God, he knew it anywhere. His throat tightened, his eyes blurred. Slowly, he began to read:

My Dearest Love, My Peach Blossom,

His breath caught. No one else had ever called him that. Only Romina. His eyes moved hungrily across the words, devouring every line.

If I had to choose again, I would choose you still—

even if it meant the ending would be the same.

He pressed the paper to his lips, trembling. The ache in his chest deepened. He whispered, brokenly, “Romina…”

Wherever I am, know this: I love you still.

But I am glad that you have time yet,

to love again,

to live,

to taste the sweetness of life a little longer than I was allowed.

Tears welled and slipped down his cheeks. He gripped the note tighter, as though the words themselves were her hands holding him.

Even death cannot silence what I feel for you.

You are carved into my soul,

remembered the way a child remembers a cherished story—

every page, every line, every detail, forever mine.

His lips parted, trembling. “I remember you, Romina… every moment… every smile…”

You were my reason to breathe.

You were my beautiful opposite:

my darkness and my light,

my storm and my calm,

my everything.

His chest heaved with sobs. He leaned forward over the table, the note blurring beneath falling tears.

Because of you, I became light.

Now let me be the shadow

behind your shining days,

the whisper in your silence,

the warmth in your memory.

Samuel’s knuckles whitened as he clutched the paper, as though it would vanish like she had. His heart ached with longing, with disbelief.

I love you—wherever I am,

I am thinking of you.

But now, Samuel, let me go.

“No…” he whispered, shaking his head, though the tears betrayed him.

Live. Laugh. Love again.

Do it for both of us.

Until the day you too come home,

and I can finally say not ‘goodbye,’

but ‘welcome back, my Peach Blossom.’

The words blurred completely now. His lips quivered as he breathed her name:

“Romina. My Passion Fruit.”

The note slipped from his trembling hands and landed on the table, but the words burned themselves into his soul, a wound and a gift all at once.

A shiver ran through him as the realization struck. The impossible truth—so long denied—now pressed against him with all the force of a memory come alive. She had been here, not as a stranger, but as someone he had loved, someone who had returned to guide him back to life. The warmth of her presence lingered, the echo of her touch still tingling across his skin, and for the first time in years, Samuel felt a tremor of hope threading through the ache of loss.

Outside, across the wet, glistening street, Romina watched him. She was hidden in the shadows of the trees that littered Main Street, her form nearly invisible beneath the soft drizzle. Samuel still sat at the booth, staring at the empty chair where she had been, the echo of her words—and her presence—clinging to him.

The rules of her return had been clear. She was not to reveal herself, not to let him know she was truly the one who had come back . Her mission had always been to help him let go, to remind him of life, love, and the courage to feel again. After three years, the time was right. The name Amaia, meant farewell, it had been perfect, for his Romina, once alive came back only to say goodbye.

Unseen, she lingered, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the tremor of disbelief in his hands as he touched the table where she had sat.

Her eyes softened as she watched him lift something from the table—a small object catching the dim light. It was the charm bracelet he had given her years ago, engraved with Peach Blossom and Passion Fruit, their tiny charms catching a faint reflection.

She had watched as the realization hit him all at once, like a wave breaking after years of drought. Shock, wonder, and joy mingled in his eyes. As the impossible truth settled into his heart: she had returned. She had been there—all along.

Romina smiled softly to herself, as tears scalded her cheek. The warmth of his recognition like sunlight on her face. She had done what she came to do. His grief had softened, his heart had opened, and she had left him with a token to remember her by. Romina lingered in spirit. One last glance, one last heartbeat shared, and then she faded, leaving only the bracelet, the memory of her poem, and the bittersweet realization that sometimes love comes back—not to stay, but to set you free.