She waited—not with hope, but with something quieter, something deeper. A soft ache that lived in the corners of her chest, where love once whispered and silence grew loud. Every passing day, she watched the seasons change, counting them like heartbeats since he left—her childhood friend, the boy who never promised anything, yet took everything with him when he went.
Now, he stands across from her, not with roses, but with papers. Not as the man who came back for love, but as the son of a family sealing a bond in the name of tradition. Their parents' words stitched their fate like thread through fabric—binding two souls who once dreamed of each other, now standing together in formality.
She wondered: Is it still love if it arrives wearing someone else's choice?
Still, as he looked into her eyes, she felt it. Not the promise of forever, but the echo of all the years spent longing. Maybe fate didn't forget them—it just waited for the right time, even if dressed in obligation.