{"id":62213,"date":"2025-04-27T06:46:56","date_gmt":"2025-04-27T10:46:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/?p=62213"},"modified":"2026-06-24T10:29:04","modified_gmt":"2026-06-24T14:29:04","slug":"childhood-sweethearts","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/un-amour-de-jeunesse\/","title":{"rendered":"Childhood sweethearts"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

For this letter, I\u2019m going to snuggle up with the past and cherish the memory of a precious afternoon in the park with Paul. I was 27 and had been married to horrible Husband for 7 years. Paul was finishing his PhD in aerospace engineering. We bumped into each other by chance at a library I\u2019d sometimes visit to read, safe from my in-laws\u2019 prying eyes. I\u2019d read in secret in defiance of my husband, who forbade me to read and write. Hardened into a mould by his military success and consumed by hubris, he was a few centuries behind civilization in the way he thought. He lacked respect, kindness and true love. I hid from him to try to survive with a bit of normalcy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I saw Paul walking towards my table, my heart immediately started to tremble. Before that moment in the library, we\u2019d last seen each other during our teen years at a huge bonfire party. Paul wasn\u2019t a close friend; we\u2019d played tennis together occasionally in the city where we lived. I was too young and too na\u00efve to understand the electrifying sensation we\u2019d experience when we picked up a ball together or shook hands like pros at the end of a match. I must\u2019ve been 15 or 16, ignorant and troubled when I felt this young man\u2019s gaze on me. More than a decade later, the only thing I remembered when Paul locked his eyes on mine in the library was that bonfire, organized by the town at summer\u2019s end. All I had left from that evening was a brief recollection of his gaze fixed on me through the fiery flames. We were sitting around the fire, across from each other. It felt as if something inside of me was burning like a log in those flames. Was it my head or my heart? During the many years that followed, I wanted to feel the warmth of this fire again, even if for just a second. Seated at the table in the library, my hands could hardly hold my book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Did Paul recognize me? He suddenly pushed his chair back, stood up and started walking towards me. He let out a sublime \u201cYou\u2019re more beautiful than ever!\u201d I thought I was going to faint; my legs sunk into quicksand and my heart leapt from my chest. You must understand that, at that moment in my life, the woman seated in that library was in total ruins, incapable of responding to the incredible sweetness before her. My lips were quivering, unable to utter a single word. \u201cDo you feel like going for a walk in the park?\u201d Paul asked. I followed him, stammering. He casually took my arm as we crossed the street and that electrifying sensation seemed to go through our bodies, like it used to. He must\u2019ve felt it too because he hurried to tell me that he was engaged to an actress. The news only added to my turmoil of walking beside him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paul was now a man and a splendid person. As handsome as my Doctor Zhivago! Holding my head high, I followed him towards the lake, doing the best I could to keep my eyes from releasing an ocean of sorrow. My wedded life was slowly killing me. I was a prisoner to a horrible husband and my beloved children, who only had me to love. My babies fed me with spoonfuls of young love. Their smiles kept me alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We sat at a distance on a long park bench. Paul consoled me without even knowing it by telling me that he\u2019d looked for me for a long time. He had no idea that I had also pursued my intellectual interests. He didn\u2019t know that I\u2019d been forced to marry the father of an unplanned child and that I\u2019d given birth to two more after the wedding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As if he\u2019d felt my sorrow, Paul grabbed my hand. He told me once more how beautiful he thought I was and how his young man\u2019s heart would sigh each time he\u2019d think of me during those many years. Although he\u2019d made a point to quickly inform me he was engaged, he was thoughtful enough to avoid telling me about his fianc\u00e9e. I simply learned that they\u2019d be moving to the United States for better career prospects. I was glad everything was working out for him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had to leave soon to go get the kids at school. Paul asked me for my address, but I refused to give it to him. On the bus ride to pick up my children, my heart was brave. I understood that Paul had liked me, even if it had only been for one summer afternoon. He was interested in me, both then and now. Contrary to the way Husband treated me, Paul had complimented me, admitting that he found me to be even more beautiful than the innocent young girl I once was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cora
\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For this letter, I\u2019m going to snuggle up with the past and cherish the memory of a precious afternoon in the park with Paul. I was 27 and had been married to horrible Husband for 7 years. Paul was finishing his PhD in aerospace engineering. We bumped into each other by chance at a library I\u2019d sometimes visit to read, safe from my in-laws\u2019 prying eyes. I\u2019d read in secret in defiance of my husband, who forbade me to read and write. Hardened into a mould by his military success and consumed by hubris, he was a few centuries behind civilization in the way he thought. He lacked respect, kindness and true love. I hid from him to try to survive with a bit of normalcy. When I saw Paul walking towards my table, my heart immediately started to tremble. Before that moment in the library, we\u2019d last seen each other during our teen years at a huge bonfire party. Paul wasn\u2019t a close friend; we\u2019d played tennis together occasionally in the city where we lived. I was too young and too na\u00efve to understand the electrifying sensation we\u2019d experience when we picked up a ball together or shook hands like pros at the end of a match. I must\u2019ve been 15 or 16, ignorant and troubled when I felt this young man\u2019s gaze on me. More than a decade later, the only thing I remembered when Paul locked his eyes on mine in the library was that bonfire, organized by the town at summer\u2019s end. All I had left from that evening was a brief recollection of his gaze fixed on me through the fiery flames. We were sitting around the fire, across from each other. It felt as if something inside of me was burning like a log\u2026<\/p>","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":62217,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"Le temps de quelques lignes, Mme Cora se replonge dans le souvenir pr\u00e9cieux d'un apr\u00e8s-midi au parc avec Paul, un amour de jeunesse.","_seopress_robots_index":"","_seopress_robots_follow":"","_seopress_robots_imageindex":"","_seopress_robots_snippet":"","_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_robots_breadcrumbs":"","_seopress_robots_freeze_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_custom_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_canonical":"","_seopress_social_fb_title":"","_seopress_social_fb_desc":"","_seopress_social_fb_img":"","_seopress_social_fb_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_height":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_title":"","_seopress_social_twitter_desc":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_height":0,"_seopress_redirections_value":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled_regex":"","_seopress_redirections_logged_status":"","_seopress_redirections_param":"","_seopress_redirections_type":0,"_seopress_analysis_target_kw":"","_seopress_news_disabled":"","_seopress_video_disabled":"","_seopress_video":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas_manual":[],"_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable_all":"","_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas":[],"footnotes":""},"categories":[42],"class_list":["post-62213","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"blocksy_meta":{"styles_descriptor":{"styles":{"desktop":"","tablet":"","mobile":""},"google_fonts":[],"version":8}},"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62213","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/414"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=62213"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62213\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/62217"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=62213"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=62213"}],"curies":[{"name":"WP","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}