After the Heartbreak

Chapter 7: The Meeting

Two weeks passed after Gino canceled our first date, and though I tried to push it to the back of my mind, the disappointment lingered. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been stood up before—life is full of little letdowns—but this one stung. It wasn’t just about Gino. It was about everything I’d built up in my mind, the expectations, the hope that maybe this time things would be different.

I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. But the truth was, it did.

It had been a couple of days since I last heard from him when my phone buzzed late one evening.

“Want to try again this weekend?” Gino’s message popped up, casual and almost indifferent.

I stared at the screen, my heart beating faster than it should have. Part of me wanted to say no, to protect myself from another letdown. But another part—the part that still held onto that teenage crush—whispered what if?

I took a deep breath and typed back, “Sure, let’s do it.”

This time, I tried not to get my hopes up. I didn’t spend hours getting ready. I didn’t let my mind wander through all the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’ like I had the first time. I kept it simple, telling myself that whatever happened, I’d be okay.

When the day finally arrived, I made my way to the city where Gino worked, unsure of what to expect. We hadn’t talked much about where we’d meet, and I realized that I didn’t even know where the date would take place. The uncertainty gnawed at me as I stood outside, glancing nervously at my phone.

“Where are you?” I texted him, trying not to sound as anxious as I felt.

“I’m close. Just wait there—I’ll come to you,” he replied.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the familiar mix of excitement and dread creeping in. I had no idea what he would look like now. Would he be the same as I remembered? Or had time changed him in ways I couldn’t imagine?

I stood there, waiting, until finally, I saw him. Gino.

He approached with an easy, confident stride, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. He wasn’t the same boy from high school—he had grown into someone different, someone more sure of himself, more composed. His hair was shorter now, his frame broader, and his eyes—those same sharp, thoughtful eyes—met mine with a flicker of recognition.

“Hey, Megan,” he said with a small smile, his voice deeper than I remembered.

“Hey,” I replied, my voice catching slightly.

For a moment, we stood there, the weight of the years between us hanging in the air. But then, the tension broke, and Gino smiled wider, putting me at ease.

“You look great,” he said, his eyes scanning me briefly before meeting mine again. “It’s been a while, huh?”

I nodded, my heart still racing. “Yeah, it has.”

We didn’t waste much time with small talk. Gino led the way to a Korean restaurant called Orange Tree, one I hadn’t heard of before. As we walked, the conversation flowed surprisingly easily. We talked about old classmates, about what we’d been doing since graduation, about how weird it was to see each other again after so many years.

The restaurant was cozy, with low lighting and the smell of sizzling meat in the air. We sat in a booth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt... comfortable. Gino had always been good at making people feel at ease, and tonight was no different.

“So, what have you been up to?” he asked, leaning back in his seat as the waiter brought over a plate of bulgogi.

I hesitated, unsure how much to say. “Just, you know... figuring things out. I recently quit my job, actually.”

“Oh yeah? What were you doing?”

“I managed our botique,” I said, shrugging. “It just wasn’t for me. I realized I needed something more fulfilling.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get that. It’s hard to find something that makes you happy.”

I smiled, feeling a strange sense of relief that he understood. “What about you? Still working at the same place?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone casual. “It’s not bad. Keeps me busy.”

The conversation continued like that, easy and natural, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy it. I laughed at his jokes, told stories about my awkward high school moments, and found myself forgetting about all the doubts I had before.

After dinner, we walked together, the cool night air brushing against my skin. Gino suggested we head to a viewpoint—Verdissimo Tops—where we could look out over the city. As we stood there, the city lights twinkling below us, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. It was a moment out of time, suspended between the past and the present.

“This was nice,” Gino said, breaking the silence. “We should do it again sometime.”

I smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As we said goodbye, I felt the familiar flutter of hope in my chest. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was still a chance for us.