My hubby got
It was a peaceful evening at the ranch, and I couldn’t resist capturing the moment. The sunset was stunning, the air calm, and I leaned on the fence, admiring the view. I sent the picture to my husband, thinking he’d appreciate the beauty of the scene, maybe even the serenity of the cows grazing in the distance.
But his reply wasn’t what I expected.
“Look closer,” he wrote. “At the fence. Zoom in.”
Confused, I enlarged the picture, scanning the wooden post I had been leaning on. That’s when I saw it—two initials, carved into the wood, surrounded by a faint, weathered heart. My stomach dropped.
It wasn’t just any random carving. Those were my initials and my ex-boyfriend’s, etched into the wood with a knife many years ago. This spot, this fence, had been our place. A place we used to sneak away to, a place where we thought the world couldn’t touch us. I had completely forgotten about it—until now.
I tried to explain that I hadn’t even noticed it, that I didn’t remember carving it until I saw the picture. But to my husband, it didn’t matter. To him, this wasn’t just some old memory—it was a sign that I had gone back to a place that once held meaning for me and someone else.
Those faded initials, barely visible, brought all the wrong feelings back for him. No matter how much I said it was unintentional, that it was a part of my past I had left behind, the damage was done. In his eyes, those carved initials were proof that the past still lingered.
