They were just sixteen, barefoot on an almost empty beach two hours by bus ride from the city, wind in their hair and the smell of sea water lingering around them. She’d just finished a long rant about some literature teacher who refused to let her submit an essay late, and Oswal had laughed at the fuming face she had on her — really laughed, the kind that crinkled his eyes and made her heart ache for reasons she didn't yet understand.
Then out of nowhere he said. Carelessly, casually, the way only teenagers in love believed they had all the time in the world.
“One day, I’m going to marry you. You’ll be mine, and I’ll never let you cry over anyone else again. Elina one day I will make you my wife”
Elina softly smiled and hugged him tightly whispering “I will be waiting for it.”
But she never saw him since then. Until seven years later.
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