Starting Over at Sixty Years Old

Suddenly, there was a glow in his eyes. A tender smile came over his usually solemn expression.

I followed his line of sight and spotted an older lady dressed in a gown who had just stepped out of the fitting room. Her silver hair was bound up expertly in a bun and had an intricate flower pin poking through it.

She was the woman in the pictures.

They stood hand in hand and stared at each other with deep affection in their eyes.

I felt the world crumbling around me.

There was a storm. The clouds above were ominously black and beating thunder.

I did not bring an umbrella with me and had to duck under the eaves to get away from the rain.

Soon, one of the employees came to collect the signboards left outside. Upon noticing me, she tried to bring me inside for shelter.

“Hey lady, it's raining out here! Come on in and take shelter from the rain so you don’t catch a cold!”

She put her saleswoman instincts to work while bringing me inside.

“Check out our collection of wedding dresses too while you’re here. You can bring your husband to take wedding photos here! A lot of our clients are older couples because they never got a chance to get a proper wedding shoot back when they were younger and wanted to make up for it. They do say that love never expires…”

I dragged my lethargic feet behind her and felt my heart drop as I listened to her.

I immediately recalled the circumstances that led me to Arthur in the past. It was a matchmaker who set us up.

Back then, he was still busy with his career while I only worked as a cashier, and both of us had little money to spare. In the end, we settled with a simple ceremony for our marriage and called it a day.

There was no wedding shoot. He said that we would do it after he had the money for it.

I waited and waited. Before I realized it, several decades had gone by only for me to witness him taking countless bridal pictures with another woman.

The only thing I could do was note with irony that there was no point counting on such frivolous matters anymore.

...

When the clerk brought me into the store, Arthur was bent over and busy adjusting the gown for his partner.

She whispered faintly to him with a noticeable blush, “Stop that, it’s embarrassing! I’m an old lady already.”

Arthur slowly rose. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed me standing by the door.

His expression stiffened in an instant, and then he blurted out, “Why are you here?”

The moment we crossed eyes, I could notice the inflection of shock, guilt, and even a bit of irritation inside his eyes.

Was he upset because I had rudely interrupted his private date?

If I was still a young woman, I would have lost it and started telling him off. I would have asked why he would hurt my feelings.

But now, the only thing that went through my mind was how numb it felt to witness such a display. Even I was surprised by how calm my voice sounded in my ears and I was only concerned about maintaining some sense of civility between us.

“I accidentally found your photo album and I figured you might be here, so I came to check.”

He frowned and seemed a little annoyed. His first thought was to worry about said album.

“Why did you touch my belongings? Did you put it back?”

The other people around us were drawn in by the commotion.

Then, it seemed like he was worried about embarrassing himself in public and proceeded to withdraw the look in his eyes while drawing closer to me.

“Don't cause a scene. Sylvia and I were just lovers from the past. I have a family and an established career now. All I want is to just take some pictures with her and make up for what we never got to have in the past.”

Sylvia Clarke.

I suddenly recalled that Sylvia was Arthur’s first love. They went to the same university and were both studying foreign languages. They were together for a few years and came close to getting married.

However, they were later forced to split because Sylvia’s family opposed the marriage.

The decision must have been prompted by how poor Arthur was at the time. He barely had a penny to his name.

While Arthur and I were speaking, Sylvia was rooted awkwardly to the same spot and cried out helplessly, “Arthur…”

Arthur stopped mid-sentence. He stole a look at the rain outside, then he turned to me and said, “I have to send her home, she gets sick very easily. Wait for me. I’ll come back for you, then we can talk when we get home.”

With that, I was left to watch helplessly as he left hand in hand with Sylvia who was wearing a smug look the entire time.