The Man Who Still Loves Her

The meeting wasn’t planned.

Ezra had gone to the gallery alone — one of Alena’s favorite hidden places tucked behind a florist, where paintings leaned like memories along cream-colored walls. He thought of buying something for her. Something quiet. Thoughtful.

He didn’t expect to find him there.

The man stood in front of a large canvas, sunlight sliding over his dark gray shirt. Well-dressed, expensive watch, salt-and-pepper at the temples. Something about his presence felt too composed. Too knowing.

And when he turned, Ezra immediately saw it: the flicker of recognition. The narrowing of the eyes. The guarded politeness.

“You must be Ezra,” the man said.

Ezra’s chest tightened. “And you are?”

“Adrian,” he replied, voice calm. “I suppose you could call me an old friend of Alena’s.”

He extended a hand. Ezra shook it, cautious. There was something unreadable in the man’s expression — not arrogant, not hostile. But claimed. Like someone who had already lived something Ezra was only beginning to understand.

They stood in silence a moment, looking at the painting — a forest scene, quiet and dense, light peeking through trees like secrets.

“She loved this one,” Adrian said quietly. “Said it reminded her of breathing in places people forget.”

Ezra said nothing. Something coiled inside him.

“I’ve known her since high school,” Adrian went on, his voice softer now. “We were together once. The kind of young love you think will last forever. I left to study abroad. She stayed. Life pulled us different ways.”

Ezra’s throat tightened. “And now?”

Adrian turned to him.

“I’m married,” he said simply. “Arranged. My family needed it. I agreed.”

Ezra flinched. “And Alena?”

Adrian didn’t blink. “I still love her.”

The words landed like a quiet storm.

“I told her so. Years ago. Told her I’d leave if she said yes.”

“And she didn’t,” Ezra said, voice low.

“No,” Adrian said. “Because she’s better than both of us.”

Ezra looked away, pulse hammering.

“She deserved more than being someone’s secret,” Adrian continued. “She deserved more than waiting. But she loved me. Even after I broke her heart the first time. Even after I asked for something unfair.”

He turned to Ezra.

“And yet… she waited for you.”

Ezra’s stomach twisted.

Adrian smiled, not unkindly. “You must have something remarkable in you, Ezra. Because she could’ve said yes to me. Even now, I’d still say yes. In a second.”

“Then why are you here?” Ezra asked, sharper than he intended.

“Because she doesn’t choose me,” Adrian said, simply. “She loves you. For reasons I don’t understand — and maybe you don’t either.”

He looked away.

“But don’t fool yourself. You’re not the only one who saw her light. You’re just the one she forgave most often.”

Ezra felt like the ground had shifted.

Adrian offered a faint nod. “If you ever doubt her love again, remember this: she said no to a man who’s loved her all his life… because somehow, she still believed in you.”

And then he left — no dramatic exit, no final blow. Just a quiet man walking away with a truth that burned in Ezra’s chest.

That night, Ezra sat in his car outside Alena’s home.

He didn’t go in.
Didn’t call.
Just sat there, staring at the glow of her windows, wondering how many chances a woman could give before even the strongest heart gave up.

She had been loved. Chosen. Offered a way out.

And still — she had chosen him. The one who kept failing her gently.

Ezra realized something then.

It was never a question of whether she was worthy of love.

It was whether he was brave enough to accept the kind that doesn’t wait forever.

The Talk They Never Had Before

Ezra didn’t mean to sound possessive.

He told himself, again and again, as he waited outside her apartment, that this wasn’t about jealousy.

It’s about integrity, he told himself. She deserves better than a man who belongs to someone else.

But the second Alena opened the door — face calm, wrapped in that faint scent of jasmine he knew too well — all of Ezra’s practiced words fell apart.

Still, he tried.

“I met Adrian,” he said, skipping the pleasantries.

Alena’s expression didn’t change. She stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in.

“He told me he still loves you,” Ezra continued once the door closed. “That he asked you to marry him.”

She sat, smoothing the hem of her blouse. “Yes,” she said plainly. “He did.”

Ezra blinked. “And… you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was your business.”

Her tone wasn’t cold. Just honest.

He frowned, leaning against the table. “Alena, he’s married.”

“I know.”

“Then why—why even talk to him? Why let it go that far?”

She looked up at him now, her gaze steady, unflinching. “Don’t tell me what to do, Ezra.”

The words landed like stone.

“If you really consider me a friend,” she continued, slow and clear, “then you wouldn’t be trying to dictate my choices. My private life is not your battleground.”

Ezra stiffened. “I’m not dictating anything. I just—he’s not free. He can’t give you what you deserve.”

“And you can?”

Silence.

She folded her arms.

“I’ve told Adrian,” she said. “Clearly. That if he wants to ask for my hand, he needs to clear his life first. Divorce her, be a free man, then speak to me as one. Until then, there’s nothing to say.”

Ezra’s heart pounded. “So you’re… considering it.”

“I’m considering dignity,” she said. “Mine. And his.”

She stood now, walking past him, pouring water into a glass. Her calmness was sharper than a scream.

“You’re worried I’ll run into someone else’s arms just because you see now that I’m worth loving. That’s not love, Ezra. That’s control. And I’ve lived enough of that in this lifetime.”

He exhaled, pained. “I’m not trying to control you.”

“Then stop treating my decisions like mistakes you get to fix.”

Ezra turned away, guilt rising like heat.

“I stayed for you,” she said quietly. “Even when it broke me. I chose you every time, even when you told me not to. And now, when I finally start breathing again, you want to pull me back to what exactly? More waiting?”

He closed his eyes. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She smiled bitterly.

“I’ve already been hurt,” she said. “By you. Gently. Over years. And I forgave you every time.”

Ezra swallowed hard.

Alena stepped closer, her voice soft but unwavering.

“Ezra… I’m not yours. You never claimed me. And unless you do, fully, then you don’t get to question what I do with the pieces you left behind.”

She walked back to the couch, not dismissing him — but not asking him to stay, either.

Ezra stared at her, seeing not the woman who once cried quietly over his indifference, but the one who had grown past it.

And somehow, that broke him more than anything.

When the Past Speaks Softly

They sat in the garden of a small café, tucked away from the city’s noise — vines curling along stone walls, soft violin music drifting from a nearby speaker. It was the kind of place they used to visit back in high school, when love was still a future they believed in.

Alena stirred her tea gently, eyes on the petals falling into the courtyard.

Adrian watched her. Not possessively. Not with the hunger of a man who needed to win. But with the calm ache of someone who had already lost once — and still loved without bitterness.

“You still protect him,” he said softly.

She didn’t look up. “He’s my friend.”

Adrian tilted his head. “No, he’s not.”

Alena finally met his gaze. “What does that mean?”

“What Ezra does,” Adrian said, voice low but firm, “—is not what friends do.”

She sighed, leaning back. “Adrian, don’t start—”

“I’m serious,” he said. “He holds on to you. Not just emotionally. In little ways. The favors. The calls. The way he gets jealous but never admits it. The way he can’t stand you dating anyone, yet refuses to love you properly.”

“That’s not—”

“That’s not friendship, Alena,” he interrupted gently. “That’s a lover who’s too afraid to say the word ‘mine,’ but still wants no one else to.”

She was quiet for a long moment.

Then finally said, “He doesn’t call me his lover. Only his best friend.”

“And you believe that?”

She smiled faintly, but her eyes flickered with something raw.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” she whispered. “He said what he said.”

Adrian leaned forward. “And you accepted that?”

“I had to,” she said, voice breaking a little. “I had to protect my own sanity.”

He softened, his hand reaching across the table — not to claim, just to comfort. She let him hold her fingers, but didn’t look up.

“I’ve loved you for most of my life,” Adrian said, barely louder than the breeze. “And even I know that the way he looks at you… the way he always comes back to you… it’s not friendship. It’s fear. And love. And pride tangled together.”

Alena closed her eyes.

“I know.”

“Then why stay invisible in his world?”

She withdrew her hand gently. Not coldly — but with the grace of a woman who had learned how to draw lines without anger.

“Because love shouldn’t have to beg to be named,” she said. “If he ever sees it clearly, he’ll have to say it himself. Until then, I won’t reach.”

Adrian nodded slowly.

“You’re stronger than all of us, you know,” he murmured.

“No,” she said. “I’m just done waiting for someone to give me permission to matter.”

The Offer and the Ache

They were walking along the quiet path near the lake, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth after rain. Adrian’s coat brushed against hers now and then, but neither spoke for a while.

It had been a long day. One of those days where the silence between them wasn’t awkward — just full of unsaid things.

Finally, Adrian stopped near a bench and turned to face her.

“Alena,” he said, voice low but steady. “I meant what I said. I still want to marry you.”

She closed her eyes.

“I want to have a child with you,” he added. “Build something that’s ours. Even now. Even after all these years.”

She didn’t respond.

“I know I’m married,” he continued. “But that… that was never a love story. That was business. Obligation. You know how families work sometimes. But I’m working on it. I’ve already filed the first papers. If you just give me a little time—”

“Adrian…”

“No,” he said gently. “Listen. I’m not asking you to become someone’s shadow. I’m not asking you to wait in silence. I’m asking you to choose me. Let me finish what I started when we were seventeen.”

Her heart cracked.

Because it did sound tempting.

Someone who wanted her. Who wasn’t confused. Who wasn’t flinching at her love like it was poison. Who said “marry me” with full intention, not panic.

She looked up at him.

“You’d give up your entire life?”

“I already have,” he said. “The moment I let you go back then… everything after that has just been a long circle back to you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Then why did you wait until now?”

“Because I thought… maybe you were happy. With him.”

Her breath caught.

Adrian reached for her hand again. “But he’s never chosen you, has he?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

The silence was answer enough.

That night, she stood by her bedroom window, Adrian’s voice echoing in her head.

Marry me.
Let’s build a home.
Have a child with me.
Let me choose you.

And for the first time in years, she didn’t immediately reject the thought.

She considered it.

Not out of revenge.
Not out of desperation.
But out of a deep, bone-tired longing to finally be wanted without condition.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up her phone.

And that’s when a message appeared.

From Ezra.

“You’re letting him stay in your life?”

Just one line. No greeting. No punctuation.

Her jaw clenched.

Now he notices.

She typed back.

“He asked to marry me. I haven’t said yes.”

His reply came fast.

“You should do whatever you want.”

She stared at the screen.

And something broke.

Her trauma screamed — the same one that told her love meant being chosen only when she was about to be taken away.

The same fear from marriages past:
That a man would rather lose her than face his own fear.
That she was only worth fighting for when another man knocked on the door.

She didn’t sleep that night.

She prayed. Cried. Walked barefoot across her living room, whispering things only God could hold.

“I’m tired, Ya Rabb… if this love is meant to destroy me, take it away. Please…”

And still, her heart whispered Ezra’s name like a stubborn candle refusing to die.

(To be continued..)