"If We Meet Again"

We thought until the end of time was ours—until time demonstrated us off-base. But what happens when time gives you one more chance?

It was a chilly October evening when the graduated class meet brought back not just ancient friends—but ancient blazes. I hadn't seen Anika in about ten a long time. Life had taken us down in diverse ways, with diverse individuals, completely different cities. She was the “what if” I never very got over. The kind of memory you wrap in delicate paper and tuck absent in a drawer you seldom open—because it still harms when touched.

But there she was.

Standing within the corner of the housetop porch, wrapped in a maroon shawl, giggling delicately with a bunch of recognizable outsiders. Her hair was shorter presently, her grin a bit more restrained—but those eyes still held worlds. And when our eyes finally met, something moved. Time hiccuped. The party sounds obscured in the foundation. She grinned. I grinned back. Conditional. Uncertain.

I strolled over. She said, “Hey.” I said, “It's been a while.” The regular. The secure.

But at that point came the hush.

Not the cumbersome kind. The overwhelming kind. The kind that's filled with everything cleared out implied for a decade.

We found a calmer spot close to the plant. The discussion between us, in spite of the fact that cold, felt oddly lively. “So... how have you been?” she inquired, her voice gentler than I recalled.

“Busy imagining I moved on,” I answered, half-joking. But the truth slipped out.

She didn't giggle.

“I attempted to forget you,” she said. “You made it harder by being unforgettable.”

The trustworthiness cut through the night like a cut. I didn't know whether to grin or apologize. Perhaps both.

"We thought we'd found ours forever," I said.

She nodded slowly. "We were too young. We are proud. We cannot fight for it."

I remembered my final battle. The door hit. The news remained unanswered. The stubbornness that has become our downfall.

What's strange is how love survives everything but ego.

She looked at me again. "Have you ever wondered what would happen if we didn't leave?"

"Always," I said.

Soft breeze. A dry sheet fell down at her feet. She picked it up and said, "I'm engaged now."

My mind did what it hadn't done in years. It turned around.

"This is... great, and I did it.

Then she saw me - not regret it, but in a resolution. "He's fine. He's sure of me. But he doesn't feel that way... that. "

" That? "I asked you and me. Ten years later, it's still unfinished. "

.

I wanted to say a lot.

But everything I said, "So, what will we do with all of this... "Unfinished"?

She looked away. "We're folding it. We wear it like a popular old book - we can't read it again, but we can never throw it away."

I nodded.

He didn't say goodbye. The numbers were not replaced. We have not promised to meet again.

Because some love should live in the past - Anash and sacred.

Instead of seeing you again, you will never let go. soft. respect. With love. And it may be the most romantic ending of everyone.