The Wishing Well

Against my better judgment, I took my sister, Genie, to a carnival in town. I had a feeling something was off about it, but she insisted that she wanted to go. My reservations stemmed from the fact that the carnival had appeared seemingly overnight. No one had seen the initial setup, yet somehow, by nightfall, the place was packed with people. My gut instinct told me, Don’t go, but I ignored it.

That night, Genie pulled me toward a wishing well.

“Make a wish, Alice,” she urged.

I didn’t want to, but when Genie wanted someone to do something, they generally did it. She had a way of persuading people to follow along with her impulses, even when common sense told them not to.

I reluctantly stepped forward, glancing back at my sister. She nodded eagerly, encouraging me to make a wish into a well that looked as though it had been neglected for decades. The stones were dark with age, and weeds had grown through the cracks. I pulled a penny from my purse and held it tightly in my fist, closing my eyes as I wished for the first thing that came to mind.

Then I tossed the penny into the well.

Before I could change my mind, I hooked my arm through my sister’s and pulled her away.

The rest of the carnival was what you might expect: a funhouse, a Ferris wheel, and a carousel, to name a few. There was just something unsettling about all of them. The funhouse mirrors seemed to distort more than my reflection, and the Ferris wheel groaned ominously each time a car reached the top.

The carousel was the worst.

Its wooden horses looked strangely distorted, their painted eyes too wide and their mouths stretched into unnatural smiles. Even the music sounded wrong, as though the melody were being played backward.

Thankfully, I was eventually able to convince Genie that it was time to leave.

The next morning, I moved on with my life as if the night before had never happened.

I decided to buy myself a cup of coffee from my favorite coffee shop. As I reached into my purse for my debit card, someone stepped around me and placed a few bills into the cashier’s hand.

“It’s on me.”

I turned around, ready to protest, but the words died in my throat.

The man standing behind me was tall—at least six feet, maybe more—with broad shoulders and a solid, powerful build that made the simple dark shirt he wore seem almost too small to contain him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he’d run his fingers through it on the way in, and a few strands had fallen casually across his forehead.

But it was his eyes that stopped me.

They were an extraordinary shade of blue—clear and vivid, like sunlight striking deep water. They held my gaze with an intensity that made me suddenly aware of how close he was standing.

For a moment, I forgot all about the coffee.

Flustered, I managed a quiet thank-you instead of the protest I had intended.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

And then he smiled.

I had the strange feeling that I had seen him before.

Only I knew that was impossible.

We started chatting, and to my surprise, we hit it off almost immediately. His name was Adam, and he owned a bookstore, which I found incredibly attractive. There was something about a man who chose to spend his days surrounded by books that made me want to know more about him.

Unfortunately, he eventually had to leave for work, but before he did, we exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet for dinner that evening.

Later, while I was getting ready for our date—or whatever it was—I caught myself staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Is this actually a date?

I shook my head.

Did I imagine the way he looked at me this morning?

I changed my shirt.

Then changed it again.

Should I wear something casual? Something nice? Oh, my gosh. Is he paying for dinner? Should I expect to pay for my own?

I closed my eyes and took a breath.

It had been far too long since I'd attempted anything resembling dating. Apparently, I'd forgotten how exhausting it could be before I'd even left the house.

I finally managed to quiet the barrage of questions long enough to finish getting ready.

Adam lived fairly close by, so we'd agreed to meet at a little Italian restaurant neither of us had been to before. When I arrived, he was already waiting outside.

He smiled when he saw me.

And just like that, every nervous thought I'd had on the drive over disappeared.

Adam opened the door for me and waited until I was inside before following. At our table, he pulled out my chair, then took his seat across from me.

Perfect gentleman.

It should have felt old-fashioned.

Instead, it felt surprisingly natural.

Conversation came easily. We talked about books, the ridiculous things people did when they thought no one was watching, our favorite places to eat, and all the little things that somehow felt more interesting simply because I was learning them about him.

There was no awkward silence to fill. No wondering what I should say next. No feeling like I had to perform some better version of myself to keep him interested.

I could just be Alice.

And, somehow, that felt like enough.

We didn't realize we'd closed down the restaurant until our server approached the table with our check.

Adam reached for it before I could.

“I've got it.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he gave me a look that made me smile instead.

As we walked outside, I realized something.

I wasn't nervous anymore.

I wasn't wondering whether he liked me.

I wasn't questioning every word he'd said or analyzing every glance.

For the first time in a long time, I was simply enjoying being with someone.

Adam walked me to my car, but neither of us seemed particularly interested in saying goodnight. We stood beside my driver's door talking for another thirty minutes, then another five after that, neither of us acknowledging that we were doing exactly what people do when they don't want the evening to end.

Finally, Adam stepped a little closer.

My heart skipped.

He looked at me for a moment, as though giving me plenty of time to change my mind.

Then he leaned toward me.

I didn't pull away.

His lips met mine gently, almost hesitantly, and for one suspended moment, everything else seemed to disappear.

The carnival.

The wishing well.

The strange feeling I'd had from the moment I'd seen it.

All of it faded into the background.

There was only Adam.

And the unsettling thought that crossed my mind just before I kissed him back.

What could possibly go wrong?

Once I got home, the adrenaline of the evening began to wear off, and naturally, my logical brain decided to take over.

He’s too perfect.

The thought came without warning.

I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of my bed, replaying the evening in my mind. Adam had been attentive without being overbearing. Charming without trying too hard. He gave me his full attention, listening when I talked. He even remembered little things I’d said. And somehow he made me feel completely comfortable around him.

Too comfortable.

I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. 

What’s he hiding?

There had to be something.

Maybe this was simply the part where I was supposed to start seeing the cracks. Maybe he would eventually reveal a darker side once I felt secure enough to let my guard down.

Will it last?

That question followed me to bed.

I spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering whether I was being cautious or simply afraid to let myself be happy. By morning, I was exhausted.

I stopped at my favorite coffee shop, desperately in need of caffeine.

When I reached for my debit card, someone stepped around me and handed a card to the cashier.

“It’s on me.”

I turned around.

“Adam! Hi!”

He stared at me. There was no smile of recognition. No amusement in his eyes. Nothing.

Just a polite, slightly confused expression.

“Do I know you?” For a second, I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. My stomach dropped.

“Oh, I–”

I didn’t know what to say. Yes, you know me. We had dinner last night. You kissed me. We talked for hours.

Adam gave me an apologetic smile.

“I have one of those faces, I guess. And… the name Adam is apparently still pretty common.” He laughed softly, and somehow, I laughed too.

It was strange. Unsettling. But maybe I’d simply misunderstood him. Maybe there was another Adam who looked like him?

Or maybe I was more tired than I realized. Either way, we started talking. Again. And somehow, just like yesterday, conversation came easily.

We talked until he glanced at his watch.

“I should probably go. I’m going to be late for work.”

“Yeah.”

We agreed to meet for dinner. Again.

The second first date felt strangely familiar. 

We laughed, we talked. We lingered over dinner until the restaurant was nearly empty.

When he walked me to my car, neither of us seemed ready to say goodnight. He kissed me again. And this time, I knew I wanted him to.

After that, things seemed to fall into place with an ease that should have frightened me. We saw each other constantly. Dinner became breakfast. Breakfast became coffee. Coffee became afternoon walks that stretched into the evening.

I learned little things about him. The way he smiled whenever he found a sentence in a book he loved. The way he reached for my hand without thinking. And somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

I trusted him. That was the part that scared me the most. Because trusting someone meant giving them something they could break.

One evening, we were sitting together on my couch. I was resting my head on his shoulder. Neither of us had said anything for several minutes.

Adam took my hand and laced his fingers through mine.

“I love you.” 

My heart felt like it stopped. I lifted my head to look at him.

“What?”

He smiled.

“I love you, Alice.” There was no hesitation in his voice. No uncertainty. Just three simple words. Before I could stop them, tears came to my eyes.

“I love you, too.” He pulled me closer. For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to believe that maybe I’d finally found something good. Something real. Something that could even last.

I fell asleep that night with my head on Adam’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Steady and grounding.

When I woke the next morning, he was gone. Not gone from my room. Gone from my life.

When I saw him again, he looked at me with the same polite confusion I’d seen in the coffee shop.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Do I know you?”

I remembered the carnival. I remembered my wish.  

 I wish I would find love with someone who will never break my heart.