One last dance

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."...

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