The key to a forgotten room opened more than just a door; it also opened up old wounds and brought about unexpected healing.
The anniversary of our 15th wedding was supposed to be a celebration of love, years of dedication, and the quiet strength that we had created together over the course of our marriage. The atmosphere of the hotel was pleasant and sophisticated, and it smelled of flowers and wood that had been polished. Everything seemed to be in great order.
Jack and I were standing at the front desk of the reception area when he looked down at me while his hand was softly resting on my shoulder.
Sarah, it’s been fifteen years. Are you able to believe it?
I smiled and nodded in response, but I couldn’t shake the peculiar discomfort that was building up inside of me. Simply put, it was a weight that refused to go away, and I had no idea what it was.
That day, I had sneaked out of the house to get a present for Jack. A stunning timepiece that he had admired for many years but had never purchased. I concealed it in my handbag, wrapped it in blue paper, and imagined how surprised he would be to find it there.
Over the course of the evening, as I was making my way back to our room, I reached into my pocket and froze.
There was no longer a key.
There was a rush of panic. By the time the elevator door opened and Jack stepped out, I had turned around in the hopes of seeing it on the floor of the corridor. With a grin on his face, he handed me his jacket and then said he would go get a new key.
While I was wrapping his coat over me, I was reassured by the aroma of his familiar scent. I placed my hand into his pocket, and I discovered a key.
Just as swiftly, relief morphed into fear.
This was not our phone number.
Room 326 is.
My gut was in a knot. The question is why Jack had another key. In the room, who or what was present?
Even though my hands were trembling, I made my way carefully down the corridor. Even though I didn’t want to know the answer, I couldn’t resist the need to find out.
The key was able to be readily inserted into the lock. This door was opened. I was able to hear voices.
It was then that I saw him, Jack, entering the hallway with his arms wrapped around a lady whom I was unable to see at that moment.
In a low voice, he added, “You mean so much to me.”
A piece of my heart broke.
My thoughts were going in a whirlwind as I turned and rushed away, leaving his coat behind. Upon returning to our room, I sat on the bed, feeling numb. I instantly felt silly about the watch that I had purchased for him, so I hid it somewhere, where it would remain unnoticed and unheard.
Jack came back a few seconds later, wearing a happy and oblivious expression while clutching the new key. I very briefly answered. Not even close.
He took note of my lack of responses and softly patted my arm. “Are you feeling okay?” he inquired.
I gave a little nod. I lied. Once more.
On the other hand, the weight of what I had seen brought a stone-like pressure to my chest.
Jack entered in a stealthy manner in the morning, just as light was beginning to stream over the balcony. He looked at Sarah and said, “There is something that I need to explain to you.”
My voice was shaking as I turned to face him. Who exactly was she?
His body language changed from one of bewilderment to one of anxiety. Just at that moment, there was a knock at the door.
As soon as Jack unlocked it, a lady entered the room.
Yes, that was Rachel.
This is my sister. One time, my closest pal. It had been years since we had last communicated.
As I listened to her say, “Jack wanted to bring us back together,” tears began to well up in my eyes. He believed that it would assist in bridging the gap that existed between us.
I was overcome with feelings of remorse and appreciation, and I turned to Jack. I had questions about him. Everything was misread.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice.
He gave a kind grin. “All I wanted to do was give you something that you had misplaced.”
Both Rachel and I held hands. Jack came over and enveloped both of us in his arms as he joined us.
And at that same instant, I came to the realization that love is not necessarily about making huge gestures. At other times, it is the peaceful patience that is necessary to assist in the healing of what we have buried, without expecting anything in return.
