It began one summer, the kind that hums with cicadas and long, golden afternoons. Rin had just moved into the house two doors down, quiet and always reading, while I was all chatter and untied shoelaces. Somehow, we met in the middle on the old basketball court where no one played anymore.

“I suck at this,” Rin said, holding the ball like it was a bomb.

“You’re not supposed to cradle it,” I laughed. “It’s not a baby.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, that rare, slow smile she didn’t give away easily. That was the first time I felt something different.

Something small.

But unmistakable.

We started spending every day together after that. She became my favorite hello and hardest goodbye, even if we were just parting until tomorrow. Movie nights, lazy stargazing, falling asleep on each other’s shoulders after talking about everything and nothing.

Rin liked black coffee and quiet places. I liked loud music and chaos.

She listened. I spoke too much.

We balanced.

I fell for her. Unexpectedly...

I knew it the night we walked home in the rain, soaked, laughing, breathless and she suddenly grabbed my hand.

She said, “You make everything feel lighter, Elara.”

I couldn’t speak for a full minute.

But I never told her.

Not yet.

One night, while watching a terrible romance movie on her bedroom floor, something changed. We were lying side by side, and I looked over to find her already staring at me.

Her voice was a whisper.

“Do you ever… feel something you can’t explain?”

I didn’t answer with words.

I leaned in and kissed her.

Slowly. Carefully. Like if I moved too fast, the world would break.

She kissed me back.

Not with hesitation but hunger.

Like she'd been waiting.

That night, everything burned. Our skin, our hearts, our truth. Her fingers trembled on my back. My lips traced her jaw like a prayer. There was nothing dirty about it just raw, desperate honesty between two girls told they shouldn't feel this way.

We weren’t just making love.

We were claiming each other in a world that refused to give us permission.

But nothing gold ever lasts.

Rin’s parents found out first a message left open, a photograph saved too long in her gallery.

Mine soon after. My mother’s silence was louder than her words.

“You’re just confused.”

“This is a phase.”

“Girls don’t marry girls.”

They didn’t see how I looked at Rin. How Rin looked at me.

They didn’t see us.

Hope my dad still here maybe he will understand.

He's the only person supported me but now he was gone.

But we tried to hold on.

Sneaking out at night. Meeting in secret. Whispering promises we weren’t old enough to keep.

But pressure breaks even the strongest hearts.

She started fading not from love, but from the pain of hiding.

And one day, she was just… gone.

No goodbye. No knock. No kiss.

Just a folded letter on my desk.

...“Maybe in another life, we’ll get it right.”...

^^^– Rin^^^

Yes it hurts but I must let go.

All the promises that can't keep.

I must move on, until one day....

A dance floor made of glass, a fragile heart begins to flutter,

each beat matching the rhythm of the music playing softly in the background.

The chandeliers above cast a golden glow, reflections scattering across the translucent floor like stars on water.

Here in a room full of people, I am dancing with all my heart.

My dress flows like whispers of silk around my ankles, my steps careful yet free, like I’m trying to hold onto something already slipping away.

People surround me,... laughing, smiling, spinning in pairs but all I see is her.

The girl with quiet eyes, leaning against the far wall, half-lost in the shadows and half-lost in thought.

And then suddenly… our eyes meet.

Everything else fades,... the music, the laughter, even the trembling of my own chest.

She walks toward me. Each step is a promise I never knew I was waiting for.

We don't say anything at first.

She offers her hand.

I take it.

And just like that, we’re dancing.

Not perfectly, our steps don’t always match, and sometimes we stumble.

But it’s real.

And in a world that often feels like it’s made of glass, real is enough.

For that one dance, I forget the goodbye that’s waiting at the end of the night.

I forget that this is temporary that, she will leave again,

chasing dreams that don’t have space for someone like me.

But right now, in her arms, I pretend we’re infinite.

Even if our song is almost over.

Even if this is the last time I’ll feel this close.

Because some love stories aren’t meant to last forever.

Some are just meant to be danced to,...

once,

beneath the chandeliers,

on a glass floor,

with a fragile heart,

and a memory that will echo long after the music ends.

The music slows.

Her fingers tighten slightly around mine, as if she's afraid to let go.

As if she knows, too.

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” I say softly, almost afraid my voice will break the moment.

Her smiles, faint, tired, beautiful. “I didn’t think I could stay away.”

I want to say something more, something clever or poetic. But all I manage is...

“Why now?”

“Because I missed you.”

And just like that, the ache in my chest deepens.

The truth is, I never stopped missing her not since she left that rainy night without a proper goodbye.

Just a folded letter on my desk.

No promises. No explanations.

Only, "Maybe in another life, we’ll get it right."

I should’ve been angry. I should’ve moved on.

But my heart, this fragile thing that flutters and breaks too easily, held on.

So here we are.

Dancing like nothing ever happened.

Like we’re not standing on the ruins of what could’ve been.

“I’m leaving again,” she says, her voice barely audible over the music.

The words don’t surprise me.

But they still hurt.

“When?”

“Tonight. After this dance.”

Of course.

Of course she would come back just to tear open the wound one last time.

I close my eyes and rest my head against her chest.

I can feel her heartbeat, steady, real.

Just like this moment.

And I realize something,

This isn’t about forever.

It’s about now.

About this one, perfect dance beneath the lights,

with the girl I once loved and maybe still do.

When the song ends, so do we.

She lets go of my hand first.

I watch her walk away, not stopping, not turning back.

And I don’t call out. I don’t run after her.

Because this is how our story was meant to end.

Not with a kiss.

Not with a promise.

But with a dance.

A memory.

A goodbye wrapped in music and moonlight.

And as the lights dim, I step off the glass floor,

leaving behind the pieces of a heart

that learned how to love,

and how to let go.

..."Not all the story has a happy ending sometimes just the two soul meet again ang give their last goodbye."...