Simply Us

Plan A was simple: rest at home. But with Grandma Mel out, probably catching up on some gossip with her friends, Anastasia found herself alone and was boring!

Time to switch to Plan B.

Food hunting!

Ever since she arrived in Norway, Anastasia had wanted to explore the local culture, but the pain from six months ago had held her back. To be honest, it still hurt, but the pain had softened a bit, like a fading bruise.

Anastasia hurried upstairs and swapped her casual clothes for something more suitable, a simple but stylish dress and a warm coat. She tied her red-brown hair into a loose braid and checked herself in the mirror.

“That’ll do,” she said, satisfied with her look.

Stepping outside, the crisp Norwegian air greeted her. The small coastal town where she was staying with Grandma Mel had a charm of its own. Colorful houses lined the narrow streets, their wooden exteriors giving the town a quaint, timeless feel. The scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery mingled with the salty breeze coming off the sea. The streets were calm, but alive with small moments of life.

Anastasia wandered along the cobblestone streets, taking in the sights around her. A group of children giggled nearby, selling small bouquets of wildflowers they had picked from the fields. She smiled as one of the little girls approached her with a bunch of daisies.

“Would you like some flowers, miss?” the girl asked, her blue eyes shining with innocence.

Anastasia bent down. Daisies, freshly picked and bound together with a simple string, stared up at her.

“How much?” she asked, her tone gentle.

The girl thought for a moment, biting her lip. “One krone,” she finally said, holding up one finger as if to emphasize the small price.

Anastasia chuckled and handed the girl a coin. “I’ll take them.”

She tucked the small bouquet into her bag and smiled at the child, who beamed at her before running off to show her friends.

Further down the street, Anastasia noticed a couple sitting together on a bench, their hands intertwined. They were laughing about something, their closeness apparent in the way they leaned into each other. She found herself smiling at the scene.

Yet, as she observed the couple, an idea began to form in her mind, a fresh plot for her next novel. The image of two strangers meeting by chance, connecting over something simple and pure, began to take shape in her thoughts.

Maybe this is what she needed. A new story to channel her emotions into. She could turn her pain into something beautiful, something others could connect with. Her fingers itched to jot down notes, but she didn’t have her notebook with her.

As she continued walking, the sounds of the bustling market filled the air. Stalls were set up along the main square, offering local delicacies like rakfisk (fermented fish) and klippfisk (salted cod), and the rich, nutty aroma of brunost (brown cheese) drifted past her.

She stopped at a stall selling waffles topped with the famous brunost. The vendor, an elderly woman with a kind smile, offered her a sample. “You must try this,” the woman insisted, handing Anastasia a small piece of the waffle.

Anastasia hesitated, then took a bite. The combination of the sweet waffle and the caramel-like brunost was unlike anything she had tasted before.

“This is delicious.”

The woman grinned proudly. “It’s a local favorite.”

Anastasia bought a full waffle and wandered to a nearby bench to eat it. She sat, watching people go about their day. Couples walked hand-in-hand, families played with their children, and tourists snapped photos of the picturesque town. There was a peacefulness here, a sense of calm that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

As she chewed on the waffle, her thoughts drifted back to Evan. It had been six months since they broke up, but the memories still lingered like a ghost in the corners of her mind. Sometimes it felt like she was over him, but other times, like now, his presence was so strong in her thoughts that it was as if he were still standing next to her.

Pathetic.

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. This trip is about healing, she reminded herself.

‘This is my chance to move on, to start fresh.’

Lost in her thoughts, Anastasia didn’t notice someone walking toward her. As she turned to continue her stroll, she bumped into man, and the flowers he was holding tumbled to the ground.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Anastasia gasped, quickly bending down to pick up the fallen flowers.

Red roses. 

As she handed them back, her breath caught in her throat when she looked up.

It was him.

Her heart stopped. The world around her seemed to blur, the sounds of the bustling market fading into the background as she stared at him in disbelief.

His face was calm, as if he had expected to see her. His dark eyes. Those same eyes she had fallen in love with two years ago were unreadable. He didn’t look surprised or shaken like she was. He simply stood there, watching her with a quiet intensity.

For a moment, Anastasia couldn’t speak. Her mind raced, trying to process the fact that he was standing in front of her after all this time.

“Evan,” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.