The sun was setting, casting golden hues across the horizon as if the sky itself was offering a gentle goodbye. The soft wind danced through the trees, carrying with it the scent of earth after a quiet rain. She sat by the edge of a wooden pier that jutted out into a calm lake—one she often visited in her childhood, a place that always felt like home.
She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the air fill her chest, willing it to carry away the weight she had held for so long. It had been years. Years since she’d last seen him.
She never said his name anymore. Not out loud. It was too sacred, too intimate. A name that lived in the softest corners of her memory, echoing through her dreams and tucked away in the quietest parts of her soul.
He had left.
Not in betrayal, not in anger. But in silence. Just like he had entered her life.
It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t dramatic. It was gradual. A slow fading of moments. A gentle letting go, like a whisper slipping through fingertips. He had obligations, a family, a world he had built long before she appeared. And she? She had her heart—shattered, awakened, reborn.
She remembered the last time she saw him. He had looked at her like the world stopped turning, like she was both the pain and the peace he never knew he needed. And she had smiled. Not because she was happy. But because she loved him enough to let him go.
Now, years later, she sat here, stronger than ever, more complete than she ever thought she could be without him. But sometimes, late at night, in that place between sleep and wakefulness, she still heard his voice. Still felt his touch in her dreams. Still remembered the way he made her feel—seen, held, understood.
She had tried to love others. And she did, in small, kind ways. But none of them ever reached the part of her soul that he did. That sacred place remained untouched, a room locked with a key only he had.
And yet—she lived.
She laughed with friends, danced in the kitchen, cried over movies, chased her dreams, and built a beautiful life. A life with meaning, depth, and color. A life not defined by his absence, but shaped by the love they shared. That kind of love doesn’t just disappear. It becomes part of you.
Sometimes, she wondered if he thought of her too. When the world got quiet. When the stars blinked a little brighter. When the silence whispered truths too loud to ignore.
She believed in soul connections. In love that transcended timelines. She knew in some other life, some other version of themselves, they were together—free of limitations, expectations, and painful choices.
In this life, he was her awakening. Her mirror. Her ache and her healing.
In the next? He’d be her forever.
And so, she stood, her hair blowing gently in the wind, eyes glistening not from sorrow, but from something softer. Acceptance. Gratitude. A strange, quiet hope.
She placed a hand over her heart and whispered, "If not this life... then the next."
And the wind carried her words across the lake, where no one else could hear—but maybe, just maybe, he could feel them.
Because when two souls are bound, they are never truly apart.
They simply wait.
For another life. Another chance.
Another beginning.
