Howard has spent his life alone. When a knock echoes through his quiet home, he opens the door to Kira, his first love. She holds out a worn red box. “I was supposed to give this to you all those years ago,” she says. Inside lies a secret that will break his heart — and heal it too.

I was slouched in my favorite armchair, half-watching a rerun of an old sitcom, when the knock came.

I didn’t think anything of it. The neighborhood kids were always stopping by, especially on weekdays, after I finished my bus route. I never had a family of my own so I appreciated the company.

They’d crowd around my porch, eager to hear stories or play board games in the yard. Those visits were the bright spots in my quiet life, filling the empty spaces between morning routes and evening silence.

I heaved myself up from the chair, already smiling.

“Coming!” I called out, shuffling toward the door.

Maybe it was little Tommy wanting to show me his latest science project, or Sarah asking for help with her math homework.

But when I opened that door, my whole world tilted sideways.

A woman around my age stood there holding a small red box that looked as worn as we did. Her silver-streaked hair caught in the afternoon light.

She was vaguely familiar, but I didn’t recognize her until our gazes locked. My heart stopped, started, then stumbled like it was learning to beat all over again.

“Kira?” The name felt strange on my tongue, like a language I’d forgotten how to speak. “Is that really you?”

She tilted her head slightly and smiled. It wasn’t the bright, carefree smile I remembered from our youth, but this was definitely my high school sweetheart, the first girl I loved. The first girl to break my heart, too.

“Hello, Howard.” Her voice was different, deeper with age, but still unmistakably hers. “I finally found you after two years of searching.”

“You’re back?” I breathed. A question that came from my heart, not my head, as feelings I thought I’d buried years ago awoke inside me. “But…”

But it didn’t make sense. Not after all these years. Suddenly I wasn’t 65 anymore. I was 17, and the memory of the night Kira broke my heart hit me like a physical force.

48 years ago

The gymnasium sparkled with cheap prom decorations and cheaper dreams. Paper streamers hung from the basketball hoops, and the disco ball scattered diamonds across Kira’s blue dress as we swayed on the dance floor.

Her head rested against my shoulder, dark hair falling in waves down her back. I lightly twirled a loose strand through my fingers and smiled at her.

When I thought about the future, all I saw was Kira and me, living together, growing old together. I wanted to ask her to marry me, I just hadn’t worked up the courage yet.

“Howard?” she whispered against my collar.

“Hmm?”

“Can we go outside for a minute?” She looked up at me and something in her eyes made me pause.

I nodded and led her through the crowd, our fingers intertwined. The spring air hit us like a wake-up call, fresh and cool after the stuffy gym.

Kira led me to the old oak tree where we’d shared our first kiss in our freshman year.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, noticing how she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.

She took both my hands in hers. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier. I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

“Tell me what?”

“We’re moving.” Her voice cracked. “To Germany. My father’s company… they’re transferring him. We leave tomorrow.”

The world stopped spinning. “Tomorrow? But… what about graduation? What about college? We were going to go to State together.”

“I know.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, catching the moonlight. “I begged them to wait, just so I could have prom with you. But Daddy has to report on Monday.”

All my dreams of our future together shattered like crystal. But no, I wouldn’t give up on Kira so easily. We could still make this work.

“We can write… call each other. I’ll visit when I get a job…”

Kira shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Howard, you know long distance never works. You might meet someone at college, and I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Never!” I took her hands in mine. “You’re the love of my life, Kira. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes. I… I want to marry you.”

She put her hands over her mouth and broke down then. I pulled her close, trying to memorize everything about this moment as I muttered promises to her and begged her to keep in touch.

We stood there under that oak tree until the last song faded away, holding each other like we could stop time if we just held on tight enough.

“I’ll write to you,” she promised when we parted ways that night.

But I never heard from her again until now.

Present Day

“Howard?” Kira’s voice pulled me back.

“Why are you here, Kira? Why now?”

She held out the small, red box. “I was supposed to give this to you all those years ago, but my mother never sent it. Because of that, our lives changed forever. Please, open it now.”

I reached out and took the box from her.

With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid. Inside lay a folded letter, yellowed with age. And beneath it — my heart stopped — a pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test.

“Kira…” My voice cracked on her name.

Another wave of memories washed over me: stolen kisses between classes, summer afternoons by the lake… we’d given ourselves to each other, body and soul, in an abandoned cabin near the shore; a promise we thought would last forever.

“I found out after we moved,” she said, the words tumbling out like she’d held them back for too long. “I gave the box to my mother and begged her to send it to you. When I never heard back, I thought… I thought you didn’t want us.”

“But I never knew,” I whispered, my hands shaking as I held the test, this small piece of plastic that had changed everything. “I waited for a letter from you, but I never got anything.”

“Yes… that’s why I’m here now, Howard. The box was never sent. My mother kept it hidden. I only found it recently, going through her things in the attic.”

She wiped at her eyes. “I raised our baby alone, Howard. With my parents’ help. All these years, I believed you had abandoned us.”

The room spun around me. A baby. We’d had a baby.