She loved her morning run around the bay. No phone, no emails, no texts—just the pulse of dance music from her iPod, pushing her to keep pace. The crisp air cleared away the lingering thoughts from a restless night, giving her a rare moment of tranquility before the day’s demands took over.
It was a deliciously brisk fall morning—perfect running weather—and she felt good. Her stride was strong, her pace quickening. She’d never quite understood what runners meant when they said, “The endorphins kicked in,” but if this wasn’t it, it had to be close. The thought filled her with joy.
A couple ran toward her, catching her smile and returning it with a nod. Their synchronized strides, easy conversation, and stolen glances made them look so in sync. A familiar nagging feeling stirred inside her.
She kept her rhythm as another couple approached. This time, she noticed how he adjusted his pace to match hers—no frustration, no rush. He wanted to be right there with her. The nagging feeling deepened into a dull ache.
Turning a corner, she passed a small hut and a cluster of benches facing the distant islands. An elderly couple sat in silence, hands intertwined, steam rising from their coffee cups as they gazed out at the water. The ache sharpened into pain.
She stopped, pressing a hand to her side. A runner’s stitch? Maybe. But then, out of nowhere, a quote from The Wedding Date popped into her head: “Every woman has the exact love life she wants.” Why was she thinking about that?
Then came the real thought—the one that hit harder than the stitch. I’m in my 40’s and single. Did I choose this love life, or did it choose me?
She had been single for most of her life, with relationships—some long, some fleeting—woven in between. With each one, she had hoped for happiness, maybe even children. And yet, every breakup, no matter how painful, had felt like the right ending.
She pressed her side again, as if trying to ease the ache, and realized one undeniable truth: This is not the love life I want. She wanted the harmony of a shared stride, someone willing to slow down so they could move forward together, someone to sit beside her in quiet companionship, where silence spoke louder than words.
But there was something else she knew for sure.
There was love in her life.
The pain eased. Her stride steadied. And she ran on.
