I never expected to see my high school history teacher again, let alone at a bustling farmers’ market. Yet there he was, effortlessly weaving through the crowd.

“Claire? Is that you?”

I turned to see Mr. Harper—Leo, as he quickly corrected me with a grin. Seeing him again after eight years felt surreal. Back in school, he was the charismatic teacher who made history come alive. Many had crushes on him, but to me, he’d been a mentor.

Now, he was teaching English in a nearby town, while I was back home, chasing a long-forgotten dream.

“That’s amazing,” he said when I told him about my plans. “You just need to go for it.”

One coffee led to many, and before long, our meetings felt like something more. Over dinner weeks later, he leaned in and asked, “Ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d met at a different time?”

A year later, under my parents’ oak tree, we exchanged vows. That night, he handed me my old dream journal from high school.

“I always knew you’d make these happen,” he said.

With his unwavering support, I did. Now, as I watch him play with our child in my bookstore café, I smile—because life brought me exactly where I was meant to be.