Eventually, I stopped asking. Not because I no longer cared, but because I was exhausted. Exhausted from losing the same fight. Exhausted from feeling like I was competing with a woman whose name I did not even know.
So I taught myself to ignore her.
Or at least I believed I had.
Until last week.
I was waiting in line at a bakery when the woman standing in front of me turned slightly. My stomach dropped. I knew that face. Not from school, not from work, not from anywhere in my actual life.
For a moment, I honestly thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Then she turned a little farther. The same eyes. The same lips. Even the tiny beauty mark near her jaw. Older now, but undeniably her.
My hands began to shake. I must have stared at her for nearly a minute. Finally, before I lost my courage, I stepped forward.
“Excuse me.”
She turned around.
“This is going to sound strange, but do you know someone named Ryan?”
Every bit of color disappeared from her face. She took a small step backward. I read her expression. Her face had turned red, not from confusion or surprise.
Fear.
My heartbeat pounded. “Are you okay?” I asked.
For several long seconds, she said nothing. Then she looked past me toward the bakery entrance, as though checking to see if someone was watching.
