I was living my ordinary life, caught up in the usual chaos of teaching elementary school, when one of my students handed me a Valentine. At first glance, it seemed like any other sweet gesture from a child. But as I unfolded the card, my heart nearly stopped. I knew this card. I had written it years ago for someone I once loved.
How had it ended up in my student’s hands? I needed answers—no matter what they might change.
People think teaching young kids is easy, but they have no idea. College professors? Have you ever tried to scrape glitter glue off a desk that’s practically become part of the furniture? Ever had to explain why drawing on your friend’s forehead with a permanent marker isn’t “helping them look cooler”? Or spent your lunch break rushing a rug to the dry cleaner because someone didn’t make it to the bathroom in time? Didn’t think so.
But despite the chaos, I loved my job. Kids had a way of making even the most exhausting days feel rewarding.
Still, some days, I swore my classroom was full of tiny tornadoes in sneakers. And then there was Mark.
Mark was different. He wasn’t loud or rowdy like the others. He was polite, kind, and had this old-soul wisdom about him. He wasn’t shy, just thoughtful, always observing before speaking.
He often brought me little gifts—a drawing, a flower he found on the way to school, even a neatly folded napkin he claimed looked like a swan. He had only been in my class for a month, and I could tell he was still adjusting.
Other kids weren’t always welcoming, and sometimes, I had to step in when they left him out. But Mark never seemed upset.
“I just feel sorry for them,” he told me one day. “They don’t know how to be nice.”
See? A real angel.
During breaks, he liked to sit by my desk and chat. He told me his family had moved a lot—different cities, different countries.
“My dad’s a journalist,” he explained. “But now, we’re staying here.”
I often wondered who had raised such a wonderful child. Since his nanny always picked him up, I never had the chance to find out.
On Valentine’s Day, Mark approached my desk, shifting from foot to foot, his hands hidden behind his back. His eyes flicked up at me, then back down.
“I wanted to give you a Valentine,” he said softly.
“For me?” I asked, surprised.
He nodded. “You’re a great teacher.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mark. Thank you.”
He gave a quick nod and turned as if to walk away.
“Wait,” I said. “Where’s the Valentine?”
Mark’s eyes widened. “Oh!” He quickly pulled a small card from behind his back and placed it on my desk, almost dropping it.
I picked it up. Something about it felt… familiar. I unfolded it.
“To the funniest and smartest boy I know. Don’t you dare forget me. Yours, Annie.”
My breath caught. My hands tightened around the paper. I knew this handwriting. It was mine.
“Mark, where did you get this?”
“In my dad’s stuff,” he said, smiling. “It even has your name on it. Do you like it?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, Mark. I love it.”
He hugged me quickly, then ran off, leaving me frozen in place. Had he really kept it all these years?
Memories crashed over me. Jason. My first love. My only real love.
We had spent high school dreaming together, certain of our future. College, careers, a life side by side. Nothing could break us.
Until one day, Jason walked into the school hallway looking devastated.
“We’re moving to Europe,” he said, voice cracking. “My dad got a job there.”
Tears streamed down his face. He collapsed into my arms, shaking. I held him tight, my own heart breaking.
Our last day together was Valentine’s Day. I gave him that card—the very one Mark had handed me. Jason had read it, his eyes glassy.
“Even if I wanted to, I could never forget you,” he whispered, pulling me into a hug like he could somehow hold onto time. But time moved on. Jason left. We lost touch.
I thought he never came back. But now… Mark had my Valentine.
My heart pounded as I opened Mark’s file. His father’s name: Jason.
This wasn’t a coincidence.
As soon as school ended, I drove straight to the address listed. My hands shook as I rang the doorbell.
A woman answered. She was stunning—tall, graceful, perfectly put together.
“Can I help you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
I forced a smile. “I’d like to speak with Jason.”
She raised an eyebrow. “He’s not home. What’s this about?”
I hesitated. “Are you Mark’s nanny? I’d really like to speak with his father.”
A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “I’m Katherine. Jason’s wife. Mark’s mother. And you are?”
The words hit like a slap. Jason’s wife. Of course.
My stomach twisted. What had I expected? That he’d been waiting for me all these years?
“I’m Miss Annie,” I said evenly. “Mark’s teacher.”
Her smile didn’t falter. “Is Mark having trouble?”
“Not at all,” I said quickly. “Mark is wonderful. I just wanted to meet his parents.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, her smile never quite reaching her eyes.
I turned and walked away. The second I reached my car, the tears came, hot and unstoppable.
I felt like a fool. What had I thought? That Jason would open the door, still single, still thinking of me? That we’d rewrite our ending?
Reality hit hard. Jason had a family. A life without me.
I tried to move on. I almost managed—until a deep voice stopped me after class a few days later.
“Good afternoon. My son gave you a Valentine. I know this is a terrible thing to ask, but it’s really important to me. I’d like to have it back.”
The voice was familiar. Too familiar.
I turned too fast and smacked my head against a shelf. “Ouch!”
“Oh—are you okay?” The man stepped forward, concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine, you didn’t—” I stopped cold.
“Jason…” I whispered.
His eyes widened. “Annie…”
We stared at each other, years of unspoken words hanging between us.
“I never thought this could be real,” he said. “When Mark told me his teacher’s name was Miss Annie, I thought it was a coincidence.”
“Turns out, it wasn’t,” I said, voice unsteady.
“I wanted to find you,” he admitted. “But… I was scared.”
“I went to your house,” I confessed. “Your wife said you weren’t home.”
Jason frowned. “My wife?”
“Katherine.”
Jason sighed. “She’s not my wife anymore. We divorced years ago.”
I blinked. “She told me she was.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like Katherine.”
A small, surprised laugh escaped me. Even now, he could make me smile.
He nodded toward the Valentine. “So… am I still the funniest guy you know?”
I swallowed. “Why did you keep it?”
His voice softened. “Why do you think?”
I held my breath. “You came back for me?”
Jason nodded. “I never forgot you.”
A slow smile spread across his face—the same one I had fallen for all those years ago. Maybe, just maybe, we still had a chance at a happy ending.