When Dreams Collide: Y/N and Elizabeth Olsen RE WRITING

Chapter 14: The Great Divide (2020) part 2

Chapter 14: The Great Divide (2020)

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the Florida coast in hues of gold and crimson. Elizabeth stood at the gate of a house she hadn’t stepped foot in for years, her hand hovering over the latch. The home she and Y/N had once shared loomed in front of her, a silent witness to all that had been and all that had been lost. It wasn’t just a house; it was a time capsule of dreams and promises, of a love that had once felt unshakable.

For years, she had avoided this place, leaving it untouched like a relic of a life she could no longer bear to confront. But something had pulled her back—a quiet, unshakable voice that had grown louder with time. It wasn’t just nostalgia; it was the weight of unresolved feelings, the ache of unfinished business.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth pushed the gate open, the hinges groaning in protest, and walked up the cracked pathway. The key in her hand felt heavy, almost foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, her breath catching at the familiar scent of wood and sea salt, faint but unmistakable.

The house was eerily still, as though it had been holding its breath, waiting for her return. Dust coated the surfaces, and sunlight streamed through the windows in soft, golden beams. The furniture remained exactly where they had left it—a time capsule of their life together. The couch, where they had spent countless nights laughing and dreaming of the future, was draped in a thin layer of dust. The dining table still bore faint scratches from their late-night conversations and spilled wine.

Elizabeth walked slowly, her fingers brushing over the edge of the table, the back of the couch. Each touch brought memories rushing back with startling clarity—Y/N’s laughter echoing through the hallways, the warmth of her arms around Elizabeth’s shoulders, the quiet moments of contentment they had shared.

Her feet carried her through the house, though she wasn’t sure where she was going. She paused in the doorway of their bedroom, the sight of the bed sending a pang through her chest. It was where they had shared their most vulnerable moments, where they had whispered promises of forever.

But it wasn’t the bedroom that held her attention for long. It was the door at the end of the hallway—the nursery.

She had avoided that room for years, unable to face the dreams they had poured into it. The sight of it had always been too painful, a reminder of what they had planned but never realized. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob, hesitating. Part of her wanted to turn away, to leave it closed forever. But something pushed her forward.

The door creaked open, revealing a nearly empty room. The walls, once painted in soft pastel hues, were faded now, and the air carried a faint mustiness. The only thing left was the bassinet in the corner. It stood alone, a quiet monument to the life they had imagined together.

Elizabeth approached it slowly, her heart tightening with every step. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the edge of the bassinet. Memories flooded her mind—the day they had picked it out, Y/N’s hand in hers as they laughed about how their child would probably outgrow it too quickly. It had been a day filled with so much hope, so much certainty that their future was bright and boundless.

Her hand froze when she noticed something beneath the bassinet. Frowning, she knelt down and pulled out an envelope. Her breath hitched as she recognized the handwriting on the front.

Y/N’s.

The sight of her name written in Y/N’s familiar script sent a wave of emotion crashing over her. She sank to the floor, her hands trembling as she opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. The paper was slightly yellowed with age, but the words were as clear as the day they were written.

"Liz, I can’t wait for the day when we finally have our family. I can see us rocking our baby to sleep in this bassinet, laughing together as we navigate parenthood. I love you more than words can say, and I know we’ll make this dream a reality."

Elizabeth pressed a hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks as she read the words. The letter was a time capsule of its own—a snapshot of a moment when everything had seemed possible, when their love had been enough to conquer anything.

She clutched the letter to her chest, her body trembling with sobs. The pain she had buried for so long rose to the surface, overwhelming her. She had tried to move on, tried to build a new life with Robbie, but deep down, she had always known that something was missing.

With Y/N, their dreams had felt alive, electric. There had been an unshakable certainty that they were meant to build a life together, to create something beautiful. But with Robbie, it was different. It was safe, predictable, but it lacked the spark that had made her and Y/N’s dreams feel so real.

Elizabeth sat on the floor for what felt like hours, the house silent around her. She stared at the bassinet, the letter still clutched in her hands. It wasn’t just the bassinet or the letter—it was everything they had shared, everything they had lost.

She stood up slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her. The house felt both familiar and foreign, a place where her past and present collided. She walked through the rooms one last time, taking it all in—the couch, the table, the pictures still hanging on the walls.

When she reached the front door, she paused, looking back. The house had been her sanctuary once, a place where she had felt safe and loved. And now, it was a reminder of the life she had left behind, a life she wasn’t sure she had ever truly let go of.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Elizabeth felt a strange sense of clarity. She couldn’t keep running from the past, couldn’t keep pretending that she had moved on when a part of her heart was still here, with Y/N.

Back in her car, Elizabeth placed the letter on the passenger seat and stared out at the house. She didn’t know what came next, but for the first time in years, she was ready to confront the truth.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how far she had tried to run, one thing remained: her heart had never stopped yearning for Y/N. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to face that.