RIBBONS

POV - ELARA

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Tied in Ribbons

It started with a ribbon.

A simple red ribbon, tied around my wrist when I was five years old.

"You’ll never lose me if you have this," Leo had said, his small fingers fumbling with the knot, tightening it with the kind of determination only a child could have. His face was serious, as if he truly believed a piece of fabric could tether us together forever.

I had giggled, watching him tie an identical ribbon around his own wrist.

"Now we match!" I had cheered, holding up our hands side by side.

Back then, I didn’t understand love. Not in the way stories described it.

But I knew one thing with absolute certainty—Leo was my best friend.

And his promise meant everything to me.

---

But childhood promises are fragile things.

Leo moved away when we were twelve.

I stood at the edge of our street, my fingers gripping my ribbon so tightly it left an imprint on my skin.

He held his own ribbon, the one I had given him before he left, his expression torn between sadness and forced bravery.

"Will you come back?" I had asked, my voice trembling.

He hesitated for a moment. Then, with the same certainty he had all those years ago, he nodded. "I promise."

---

Promises.

They were just words.

And yet, I waited.

For years.

---

Life moved on, as it always does.

I grew up. Fell in love with the idea of love. Got my heart broken a few times.

But no matter how much time passed, I never took off the ribbon.

It became part of me—frayed at the edges, worn thin with time, but still there.

A reminder of a boy who once tied his fate to mine with a simple red string.

And then, one summer evening, everything changed.

---

The bookstore was quiet, the scent of old pages lingering in the air. I was shelving books, lost in the monotony of the task, when I felt it—an unshakable pull, a presence that made my heart stutter before I even turned around.

And then, I saw him.

Leo.

Standing just a few feet away, looking older, taller… but still him.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The years between us vanished, collapsing into a single heartbeat.

His gaze drifted downward, stopping at my wrist.

"You still wear it," he murmured.

I swallowed hard, my fingers brushing over the familiar fabric. "You remembered?"

His lips curled into a soft smile as he pulled up his sleeve.

And there it was.

The same red ribbon, weathered and fraying at the edges, tied securely around his wrist.

"I never forgot, Elara," he whispered.

---

We spent hours catching up.

Words flowed between us as effortlessly as they had when we were children, as if time had never stretched so far between us.

He told me about the places he had seen, the things he had done.

But when I asked about love, his smile faltered.

"There was never anyone else," he admitted. "Because every time I looked at this ribbon… I thought of you."

My breath hitched.

Because I had spent years believing he was a memory.

And all this time, he had been waiting, too.

---

That night, we walked together under the glow of streetlights, shadows trailing behind us like echoes of the past.

He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing against the worn ribbon on my wrist.

"Do you believe in fate?" he asked softly.

I looked up at him, my heart full, my soul lighter than it had been in years.

A tear slipped down my cheek, but I was smiling.

"I do now."

And as he leaned in, his lips meeting mine beneath the vast, star-strewn sky, I knew—

Some love stories aren’t just written in words.

They’re tied in ribbons.

And ours had never come undone.

❤️THE END❤️

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