Here’s your 500-word story:
Love, Lost and Found
Henry and Margaret had spent fifty-three years together. A lifetime of shared laughter, arguments, holidays, and quiet Sunday mornings. But somewhere along the way, the love that had once bound them began to unravel.
It wasn’t dramatic. There was no betrayal, no great fight—just a slow drifting apart. Conversations became shorter. Dinners were silent. Nights were spent in separate rooms. Until one day, Margaret simply said, “Henry, we deserve more than this.”
So, at 75 years old, they divorced.
At first, Henry felt relief. The routine that had once suffocated him was gone. No more complaints about his scattered newspapers, no more bickering over how much salt to put in the soup. He spent his days however he pleased—golfing, reading, watching old westerns.
But after a while, the silence became too loud.
One afternoon, Henry walked into their favorite café, the little one on Oak Street where they used to go every Saturday. His chest tightened when he saw Margaret sitting at their old table, laughing. But it wasn’t just the laughter—it was who she was laughing with.
A man.
Tall, silver-haired, well-dressed. He leaned toward Margaret with a charming smile, and she—Margaret, his Margaret—touched his arm with a familiarity that Henry hadn’t seen in years.
Henry’s stomach twisted. She’s happy, he realized. Without me.
He didn’t approach. Instead, he walked out, hands trembling.
That night, Henry sat in his empty house, staring at an old photo of them on their wedding day. He thought about their first apartment, their long road trips, the way Margaret used to hum when she cooked. Had he really let all of that go?
The next morning, he returned to the café. Margaret was alone this time, sipping tea.
He hesitated, then walked over. “Mind if I sit?”
She looked up, surprised. “Of course, Henry.”
For the first time in years, they talked. Not about the past or what went wrong—just about life. She told him about her new book club, how she was learning to paint. He told her about his golf games, how he finally finished that novel he’d been meaning to read.
As they laughed over an old inside joke, Henry realized something. They had lost their way, yes. But maybe, just maybe, they could find a new one.
“Margaret,” he said softly, “would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”
She studied him, then smiled—the same smile that made him fall in love all those years ago.
“I’d like that, Henry.”
And just like that, a new chapter began.
