It was a chilly evening in late autumn, the kind where the sky burned orange and red as if it were saying goodbye to the warmth of summer. Ava stood at the old oak tree in the park, clutching a letter in her hand. The paper was creased and worn, as if it had been opened and folded a hundred times before.
This was where they had first met. Where he had accidentally spilled coffee on her favorite book and spent an hour apologizing. Where their laughter echoed through the seasons, and where, two years ago, he had made her a promise under the same branches.
"I’ll come back for you," Ethan had said, his voice steady despite the weight of those words. "No matter how far I go, you’ll always be my home."
But the letter in her hand told a different story. It was short, almost too short, and yet it carried the weight of a thousand broken promises.
"Ava, I’m sorry. I thought I could come back, but some roads are harder to retrace than I ever imagined. Please forgive me."
There was no signature, just his familiar handwriting that now felt like a stranger’s.
Ava looked up at the branches swaying gently in the breeze, as if whispering secrets she couldn’t hear. Part of her wanted to hate him for giving up, but another part—a softer, more vulnerable part—still waited for him, still believed in the boy who promised to return.
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in twilight, and Ava tucked the letter into her coat pocket. She wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Maybe she never would.
---
What happens next is up to the heart to decide.
