Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven
You've been in Europe for three months now. It's been four months since you broke up with her. You miss her so much. You try emailing and calling her, but she never replies.
One morning, you wake up, do the normal bathroom ritual and then open the curtains to let in the warm sunlight. Your jaw opens wide. There she is, plastered across a billboard with a French slogan advertising some cosmetics company.
Before any sensible thought enters your brain, you notice a few different things. She's obviously dyed her hair, because it wasn't as red as that when you left. Her skin is now flawless. The small scar that used to sit right above her eyebrow is gone. Probably covered by some kind of concealer make up. She's wearing a pair of jeans that are so tight they look painted on. Her shirt is plain but well cut and flattering. But her eyes haven't changed: still that mournful steely grey.
Then, you realise. It's her. HER. A MODEL. Is that the same girl that you left behind? The one who was studying to be a psychologist? Did she suddenly sprout a selfish bone?
You call her repeatedly, but all you get is a chirpy voice asking for you to leave a message. For days you wake up to see her staring at you from the billboard across the road.
After two weeks, your morning newspaper's main heading boasts an exclusive interview with her. You open it up desperately.
She's written a huge article on how she was discovered at a clothing store, how she got her job, blah blah. Then, you notice an interesting paragraph.
"I've had just the one love interest. I loved him so much, I would have died for him. But, he left for Europe about three months ago after breaking my heart. I miss him so much."
You stare at the article for a long, long time. It's almost unbelievable. Your ex girlfriend is a celebrity.
Three days later you receive a phone call. It's her. You almost drop the phone in shock.
"Hello." She sounds deflated. You respond with a polite 'Hi'.
Suddenly, it all goes off. She's crying, laughing, talking nonstop. You listen sympathetically. The price of fame is always high. Then, a sentence jumps out at you.
"How about we get together for a coffee? I'm in the country... so why not?"
You agree with much fumbling of an already lovesick tongue. You feel like an idiot, but at least you get to see her. You arrange a date, time and cafe. And then, the waiting game begins.
After what seems like an eternity, you are sitting in the cafe gazing into her grey eyes. She's scooping the chocolate laced foam off her cappucino. You'd forgotten how she used to do that.
You talk. Of seemingly endless things. How her career is going. How your new job suits you. Yadda yadda. Then, something unexpected happens. She reaches across the table and takes your hand, stroking it absently with her thumb.
The sheer power of her touch sends you reeling. And so do the words that follow.
"I never really gave up on you, you know."
You gulp at your coffee so fast you can almost feel your throat being scalded. She notices this action and makes a funny little noise, halfway between a sob and a laugh. That's when you realise it. It isn't a long distance relationship any more. You push aside the half empty coffee cups... and kiss her.
It's like you never broke up. You both feel the gravity of the kiss. It pulls you together. In a single moment, you find the love that you had left behind. You discover that you still love her.
You get up, pay for the coffee, take her by the hand and walk together towards your car. And she whispers in your ear as you drive away.
"I love you."