Page 62 of Still The One

I take a deep breath, my heart thudding against my ribcage. How do I explain this to her? I walk over and join her on the floor. There’s a reason this lives in the top of my closet, out of sight. It hurts to see it as much as sitting on the floor does right now.

I run my fingers along the edge of the box, feeling the rough texture of the tape. The memories flood back, threatening to drown me in nostalgia.

‘You asked if I ever thought of our “what ifs”?’

She nods.

‘This is mine,’ I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. Eve’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across her features. ‘It’s filled with mementos from our relationship that remind me of you – of us.’

‘Really?’ she asks.

‘Yep.’

‘And it’s taped closed why?’

‘Because honestly, seeing these things all over my house hurt. But it hurt more to throw them away, so I boxed them up and promised never to look, but also never to get rid of them.’

Eve’s gaze softens as she listens, her hand reaching out to touch the box gently. I notice a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. She leans in a little closer, her shoulder brushing mine, and her voice is barely a whisper, filled with emotion.

‘I thought you just forgot about me,’ she admits.

Her words hang in the air between us.

‘How could I ever forget the woman I consider the love of my life?’ I confess. ‘I know you ended things a long time ago, but a part of me always held on to the possibility of us.’

Slowly, she nods, understanding dawning on her face. ‘I get it,’ she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘It’s like holding onto a piece of the past, even if it stings. That said, I should probably show you something.’

Eve hands the box to me, standing and disappearing into her room. When she exits, she’s holding her own box. It’s bigger than mine and has the words Home Depot across the side.

She sits next to me again and opens the untaped lid, revealing the helmet I gave to her the day we met, my riding shirt that she was wearing, and a variety of other things.

I laugh as she pulls the helmet from the box – my old helmet.

‘You kept it,’ I say.

‘I was hoping if I held onto it long enough it would be worth some money,’ she jokes. ‘Truthfully, like you, I used to have it on the top of my bookshelf, but I couldn’t bear looking at it any more and once I started dating Cayden, it became weird to have it displayed. Like a shrine to my ex.’

‘Why do I like the sound of that?’

‘Because you love to be worshipped by sun-kissed women fangirling you around dirt bike tracks.’

I chuckle at her comment, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Seeing Eve sitting beside me, sharing her own box of memories – that I didn’t even know she had – makes my heart ache and soar at the same time. It’s like a bittersweet dance of past and present intertwining before us.

As she places the helmet back into the box, I glance at her, taking in the delicate features of her face and the way her eyes sparkle with shared nostalgia. It’s in these small moments that I realize how much of an impact she has had on my life, even after all this time.

‘Can I look?’ I ask, sitting my box in her lap and pulling this one closer.

‘Yeah, if I can snoop through yours.’

The contents of Eve’s box are a treasure trove of memories, carefully preserved and tucked away like secrets in a time capsule. I see ticket stubs from concerts we attended together, the first book I gave her with a note scribbled on the inside cover, my merch bracelet and jersey, and a worn-out sweater that she used to wear when it got chilly.

But what catches my eye the most is a small photo booth strip, faded and slightly crumpled. In it, we’re both laughing, our faces pressed close together as we pose for each shot. The memories come flooding back like an avalanche, overwhelming yet strangely comforting.

My fingers linger on the photo, tracing the outlines of our smiling faces. There’s a wistful look in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the happiness we once shared. It’s as if we’re both revisiting a chapter of our lives that had been buried under layers of time and distance.

‘I used to have that on my fridge,’ she says.

‘I remember this day.’

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