— My name is Marina. And you? — she asked, sitting down next to me and taking out a blood pressure monitor.

He looked up. Everything froze.
“Louis,” he replied quietly.

Marina paled. Was that possible?.. Almost fifteen years had passed. He had changed slightly – more wrinkles, older, but the look was the same: slightly lost, like that last day.

“Does your heart hurt?”
He nodded, still clutching the note. Marina looked at her.

“Is that a diagnosis?”
He shook his head and wordlessly handed her the note. She unfolded it. It was a letter… written in her handwriting.

“Louis, if you ever find this letter, it means I still think about you. I tried to live without you, but apparently something inside me wouldn’t let you go. I’m sorry. If fate gives us another chance, I won’t refuse.”

She remembered the letter—she had written it the night he left. She had never sent it. She had left it in his book. Apparently he had only just found it.

Louis was silent.
“Why did you call an ambulance?” she asked quietly. “
Because when your heart hurts… it’s not always because of an illness.”

Marina smiled through her tears.
“Well… Looks like I’ve come to the right place.”