Olivia’s heart sank and then lifted simultaneously. « Well… »
He shook his head. « I didn’t take it. »
Olivia stared at him. « You didn’t do that? »
Ben exhaled loudly. « I went there thinking I’d feel… validated. Like, finally, the world was going to confirm that I was good enough. But all I could think about was Mom. And you. And the library. And the fact that the life I dream of isn’t in a glass building with a salary that impresses everyone. »
Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. « Are you sure? »
Ben nodded, his gaze determined. « I’m sure of it. I’m choosing this option. Not because it’s easier, but because it’s authentic. »
Olivia approached, trembling. « I don’t want you to choose me out of obligation. »
Ben gently took her face in his hands. « I’m not choosing you as a sacrifice, » he said. « I’m choosing you as a partner. »
Olivia gasped. She nodded, tears streaming down her face this time, and Ben wiped them away with a kiss as if they were an integral part of the human condition.
Winter gave way to spring. The library renovation progressed, and the new reading room took shape. Olivia’s work for the magazine turned into a permanent contract, and Nadine began entrusting her with more feature articles, trusting in her talent.
One afternoon in March, Olivia received an email from a larger publication: an offer to remotely manage a new literary review column. It meant more money, more exposure, and the kind of professional recognition she thought she had lost forever.
She stared at the email, her hands trembling.
Ben entered the annex and saw his face. « What happened? »
Olivia turned the laptop towards him.
Ben read, then looked up with a smile. « Liv. »
« I don’t know if I can do it, » Olivia murmured.
Ben raised his eyebrows. « Yes, you can. »
Olivia shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. « What if I fail again? »
Ben crouched down near his chair, staring intently. « So you fail. And you stay true to yourself. And you still have a life. Failure doesn’t have to be the end of your story. »
Olivia swallowed hard. « When did you become so wise? »
Ben smiled. « When I saw you again. »
Olivia accepted the position.
In April, Eleanor went through a series of difficult days. She forgot about home. She forgot about Denise. She forgot about the new lights on Main Street. One afternoon, she became agitated, insisting that she had to go « home, » even though she was already there. She tried to leave, her coat half-on, her eyes wide with panic.
Ben’s hands trembled as he tried to calm her. « Mom, you’re safe. »
Eleanor pulled away, crying. « Where is my Benjamin? » she asked. « Where did you put him? »
Olivia’s heart sank. Ben looked like he’d been punched.
Olivia stepped forward slowly, lowering her voice. « Eleanor, » she said softly. « Benjamin is here. He’s right here. »
Eleanor stared at Olivia, her breath coming in short gasps. « I don’t know you, » she murmured.
Olivia nodded, without taking offense. « It’s nothing, » she said. « You don’t need to know me. You just need to know you’re safe. »
Eleanor’s gaze was shifty, searching for something.
Olivia picked up the old blue book lying on the coffee table – the one Eleanor had bought at the bookstore. She opened it and turned to the first page, then began to read aloud.
The words were simple, familiar. Eleanor’s breathing calmed. Ben’s shoulders slumped in relief.
Eleanor’s gaze softened, as if the story had soothed her. She murmured, « My Benjamin. »
Ben’s eyes filled with tears. « I’m here, Mom. »
Eleanor collapsed into his arms, exhausted. Ben held her close, his eyes closed, his face buried in her hair as if he were trying to memorize her.
Olivia stood beside them, reading in a low voice until the panic disappeared from the room.
After Eleanor fell asleep, Ben sat on the floor, his back against the sofa, staring into space.
Olivia sat down next to him, her shoulder touching his.
Ben’s voice was hoarse. « One day, she won’t recover. »
Olivia swallowed. « I know. »
Ben’s laughter was shaky. « How do people do that? »
Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. « One day at a time, » she murmured. « That’s all we do. »
Ben turned his head and placed a kiss on the top of her hair, a silent thank you.
In May, nearly a year after Olivia’s fortieth birthday, the library quietly reopened. The building smelled of fresh wood, paint, and a sense of anticipation. Sunlight flooded the new bookshelves, filtering through the restored windows. Children ran and laughed in their designated area, as if it had always been theirs.
Olivia stood near the entrance, watching, her heart filled with joy.
Ben approached her, his hair still damp after a quick shower, his hands covered in sawdust because he had fixed a last-minute problem with a shelf.
« You did it, » Olivia whispered.
Ben shook his head. « We did it. »
Olivia smiled. « I wrote the inscriptions. It’s not the same as building a library. »
Ben looked at her, his eyes warm. « You gave her life. »
They crossed the reading room together. Carla hugged Ben so tightly that he burst out laughing. Denise arrived with Eleanor, who seemed puzzled but calm, her hands gripping a small paper bookmark decorated with stars.
When Ben introduced Eleanor to Carla, Eleanor smiled and said, « Benjamin builds beautiful things. »
Ben’s throat tightened and he quickly nodded, concealing his emotion by adjusting his sleeves.
Later, as the crowd thinned, Ben led Olivia to the balcony overlooking the reading room. Silence reigned there, the sounds from below muffled by the distance.
Olivia leaned on the railing, looking down into the space below.
« That’s what it feels like, » she said, « when something doesn’t end in loss. »
Ben stood beside her, his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on her face. « Liv, » he said softly.
Olivia turned around.
Ben took a breath that resembled an act of courage.
“I know we’ve been moving slowly,” he said. “And I know you’re still recovering. And I know my life is… complicated.” He nodded toward the room downstairs, where Eleanor sat with Denise, smiling at a child’s drawing as if it were a work of art. “But I don’t want that slowness to turn into avoidance.”
Olivia’s heart was pounding. « Well… »
He took something out of his pocket – not a ring box, not yet, but a small folded piece of paper.
He handed it to him.
Olivia unfolded it and discovered a bookmark. Not one of those star-shaped metal bookmarks, but a handmade paper bookmark with carefully cut edges. Written on it in Ben’s beautiful handwriting was:
May 15th. Forty years old. Still single.
Then, below:
Sorry, but I had no choice.
Olivia laughed, breathless, tears in her eyes. « Did you make me a bookmark? »
Ben narrowed his eyes. « You’ve always had a soft spot for dramatic symbolism. »
Olivia clutched the bookmark to her chest. « Well… »
He took her hands in his. « Marry me, » he said simply. « Not because of a pact. Not because we owe anything to anyone. Marry me because I want to wake up every morning and choose you for the rest of our lives. »
Olivia’s throat tightened. She stared at him, the man who had stayed, the boy who remembered, the adult who hadn’t asked him to be less.
Her fear rose within her, reflexively, but it did not prevail.
« Yes, » she murmured.
Ben let out a sigh of relief. He laughed, a trembling, joyful laugh, and hugged her. Olivia held him tight, and for a moment, the world below melted into a gentle warmth.
They didn’t immediately inform the city. Not because they were hiding, but because Olivia wanted a moment of privacy just for them.
That evening, in the annex, Ben sat at his desk while she opened the old blue book and slipped the handmade bookmark between its pages.
« Do you feel strange? » Olivia asked.
Ben smiled. « Like I’m going to wake up and it was all just a dream? Yes. »
Olivia nodded. « Me too. »
Ben took her hand. « So we will continue to wake up and make this choice, » he said.
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