At 61, I remarried my first love. On our wedding night, as I took off my traditional wedding dress, I was shocked and pained to see…

She lifted her face, devastated.
“My name is Eleanor. And all I wanted was… to know what it felt like to be chosen. Just once.”

That night, I lay awake beside her, unable to close my eyes. My heart was torn between the ghost of the girl I loved and the lonely woman who had stolen her face.

And I realized: love in old age isn’t always a gift. Sometimes, it’s a test. A cruel test.