The Year We Met Again

Six years ago, a misunderstanding and the cruel whims of fate tore them apart. Each believed the other hated them with all their heart.

Six years later, when they met again, his gaze burned as he used every bit of his strength to pull her tightly into his arms. He held her so close, as though he wanted to meld her into his very bones. “I’ll stay by your side forever. You can beat me or curse me, but I won’t leave. In this life, don’t even think about escaping my grasp.” His voice was low and hoarse, stubborn with an insistence that allowed no argument. The breeze brushed the loose strands of hair by her ear. In that moment, the vow shattered all the partings and silences of the past.

Some love never disappears; it is only quietly sealed away by time, hidden in every passing glance and every wordless dream. Some people never truly go far, waiting in silence at the turns of fate for the chance to meet again, for the possibility of embracing once more. True love doesn’t depend on a dramatic beginning. It is tempered and refined through the long years, yet still recognizes the other’s eyes at a glance in a crowd, still chooses to pause in the midst of a hectic life for the other, and gently opens the heart to let the light of the past shine into the present.