Olivia Carter stood in front of the full-length mirror, her fingers smoothing over the fabric of her old denim jeans. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I was wearing size 18, and now I’m wearing size 6! It’s crazy, I know!” she said, turning to her best friend, Liz, who was lounging on Olivia’s bed, sipping from a glass of wine.
Liz arched an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re telling me. Last year, you wouldn’t even walk to the mailbox without huffing and puffing, and now? Look at you. You’re practically glowing.”
Olivia twirled in front of the mirror, adjusting the high-waisted jeans that had been tucked away for decades. “Just yesterday, I pulled out my old jeans from my 20s, and I have to say—I’m really enjoying rocking that 80s style in 2025.”
Liz took a slow sip, eyeing her friend. “And I quite like seeing you like this—happy. It’s been a long time.”
Olivia sighed, sitting beside her on the bed. “Yeah, it has. After Tom left, I thought I’d never feel like myself again. I spent years just… existing. But something shifted, you know? One day, I woke up and thought—why not try?”
Liz squeezed her hand. “And now look at you. Strong, confident, wearing vintage jeans that honestly look way better on you now than they did in 1989.”
They both laughed, but Olivia’s thoughts drifted elsewhere—to the unexpected text she’d received earlier that morning.
James Dawson.
The name alone sent a familiar warmth through her, a mixture of nostalgia and nerves. She hadn’t seen him in over twenty years, not since their last bittersweet goodbye. He had been her first love—the one that got away. And now, out of nowhere, he was back.
His message had been simple but loaded with unspoken history:
“Liv, I heard you’re back in town. Coffee?”
She had stared at the screen for a long time before finally typing back: “Sure.”
Now, with the hours ticking closer to their reunion, her stomach was a battlefield of butterflies. Would he still recognize her? Would she still recognize him?
Liz nudged her shoulder. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”
Olivia gave a sheepish smile. “Maybe.”
Liz grinned. “Good. Because if you don’t go, I swear I’ll drag you there myself.”
Olivia laughed, but deep down, she knew Liz was right. This wasn’t just about an old flame—it was about proving to herself that she was ready to embrace the future, no matter what it held.
And maybe, just maybe, James Dawson was part of that future.
Will Olivia’s second chance at love be worth the risk? Or will old wounds reopen?
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