People say that in the end, love comes down to conscience. But I always felt that true love has no need for conscience. It's instinct, carved into your very bones, and a longing to hold someone's hand for a whole century. Today is November 19, 2106. The wind carries the chill of early winter as I set a well-worn, gleaming photo album before the tombstone. The gold on its cover has long since faded, but the words stamped there so many years ago are still legible: “Our Hundred Years.”
Father was always fond of saying that. On a snowy afternoon in 2033, he clasped Mother's hand at their wedding and said, “I want us to love each other for a hundred years.” Mother laughed and called him a silly fool, saying no one could live that long. But he didn't know that love can outlast life.
The album holds their whole lives: a screenshot from the first time they played a game, the problems they worked on together while preparing for the college entrance exams, their first paychecks after graduation, and the splendor of their wedding… Whenever the children leaf through it, they always ask, “Did Grandpa really do it?”
I touch their names, nestled together on the tombstone. Moss creeps over the cracks in the stone, like their intertwined fingerprints. The wind lifts the petals that have fallen from the album. They must be from Mother, here to answer him.
Look, Dad. The hundred years you promised have really come to pass.
I feel a little emotional when I see this. You are really great, author. I will make a detailed evaluation after I finish reading it 😢
When I read Chapter 39, I thought the two of them were really together, but I didn't expect...
Well written and very relatable I wish the author a happy day
It's quite real and has a strong sense of immersion.