Chapter 18
That post–along with the photo–spread like wildfire.
Within hours, strangers online were gushing over their “unshakable love story.”
Someone unearthed old pictures–Ryan escorting Madeline to concerts when they were younger, still in their thirties. Another found Madeline’s hidden social media profile, where she’d tucked away decades of stolen moments. Photos of the two of them, always smiling, always careful not to be caught.
Now, with Lucas’s public post and those intimate pictures out in the open, people began to praise them.
[A timeless romance,] one commenter called it.
[Proof that true love never dies.]
No one stopped to ask the obvious:
If this was a love story… whose youth had they spent?
Whose life did they trample on to get here?
After I settled down in my new city, I went through a strange phase.
I didn’t know what to do with myself. Or rather, I didn’t know what someone my age was even allowed to do anymore. Then, one afternoon, I stumbled across a woman filming a cooking video on her phone in the park. She had a whole setup: a stand, a mic, even a little ring light.
And I remembered–forty years ago, I loved being in front of
a camera.
1/3
But I’d given it up.
Marriage had swallowed me whole.
For the first time in decades, I felt something flicker inside me again.
No, I couldn’t sing anymore. Not with the voice I used to have.
But I could cook.
So I started filming myself visiting local markets, trying new dishes, recreating them in my tiny new kitchen.
Maybe they weren’t perfect. But I got close.
Close enough.
At first, people mocked me.
[You’re too old for this.]
[It’s so bad. Go take care of your grand–kids instead.]
[You don’t belong on the internet, Granny.]
I ignored them.
I kept going.
And slowly–one view at a time–my channel began to grow.
I signed up for classes on editing and filming. I learned transitions, lighting, thumbnails.
I was the oldest one in the room, but I didn’t care.
I’d already spent forty years backing down.
2/3
I had no intention of doing it again.
Just as I started to find my rhythm again–just when life was becoming mine for the first time- Madeline showed up.
I’d just finished a class and was packing up when I turned and saw her standing behind me.
She insisted on talking.
Eventually, I agreed.
We went to a nearby café.
N
3/3
