Under the sprawling shade of an ancient oak in the backyard, I lounge on the lush grass when a sudden burst of laughter pierces the silence.
"Hey, gray eyes!"
I lift my gaze and find a sprite of a girl dashing toward me in a pink frock, her red hair in pigtails bouncing, until she comes to an abrupt halt before me, breathless, her face all lit up with a smile and her cheeks a rosy tint.
"What is it this time?" I grumble.
Kids are the worst. Ugh. I despise them, especially the ones who are all giggles and sunshine, with carefree smiles and impudent nicknames. There's something particularly bothersome about them running around with an oversized red bow on their heads and the sun catching in their fiery locks.
Yet, for some reason, even as I feign annoyance, there's a part of me that can't help but be drawn to her infectious energy.
She stands there, then hits me with a surprise. "I'm gonna marry you when I grow up," she declares, her voice ringing with a sincerity that disarms me.
Caught off-guard by her proclamation, I stutter, "W-why?"
Her eyes, wide and earnest, lock onto mine, and her grin stretches wider.
"Cause," she beams, "Daddy says you marry the person you wuv." The word hangs in the air, and I can't help but laugh a little. "Don't you mean love?"
She nods fast and laughs, too.
"Yes! I louve you."
And though she's got the word wrong again, her sentiment is clear as crystal.
"You'll never be lonely when I'm around. I'll come to play with you as often as I can while I'm here," she vows, holding out her little finger. "Pinky promise." And then forces me to link mine with hers, like a pact between hearts.
Isn't it curious how certain memories cling to us, refusing to fade?
Some are etched into my being, and they keep resurfacing, like stubborn dewdrops on morning grass. I haven't actively tried to forget it; perhaps I'm unwilling, or maybe I just can't.
How can I, really?
Her chestnut eyes, doe-like and wide, enveloped me as if I were the center of her universe, the only person who mattered. Innocence danced in her gaze, promising something extraordinary, and her giggle, delicate as a butterfly's wing, softened the harsh edges of the world and cast a spell that resonated within me. Fast forward, her memory still clings to me and has been a soothing balm for my jaded existence, filling the hollow spaces within.
I don't necessarily believe in fate, yet it, or perhaps some cosmic mischief, did seem to conspire to reunite us in college, and those eyes, which once sparkled with childlike wonder, glared at me with an intensity I had never felt before when I casually tossed out "Red," that she didn't hesitate to call me out for such a simplistic label. The irony? It wasn't lost on me: the girl who had once dubbed me 'gray eyes,' now stood before me, a woman both familiar and distant.
Yet, her scowl couldn't dim the light that guided me through the mists of isolation.
Seeing her again, eighteen instead of the wide-eyed five-year-old I remembered, caught me off guard, completely unexpected. But while I remembered her vividly, she had no recollection of me. To her, I was just another face in the crowd—a stranger who selflessly handed over his sandwich. She had no idea that I was the boy whose world she'd brightened with her presence. Funny how life weaves its threads, isn't it?
And you know what? I don't blame her. I didn't. How could I? After all, back then, she was just a child, and time has a way of erasing footprints in the sand.
We all possess frozen hearts, don't we? Those icy chambers where emotions hibernate, sealed away like ancient secrets. I am no different, as my heart is also encased in frost and my emotions hidden, labeled as "unnecessary" and "useless." They are merely whispers carried away by the wind, buried deep within me, like a shimmering mirage in the vast desert of my existence. Relationships, delicate as glass castles, seemed destined to shatter if I let anyone get too close. I have kept people at arm's length, erasing certain words from my dictionary, convinced that my emotions would wreck everything.
But sometimes, we don't realize how frozen we've become until someone begins to thaw our icy defenses, and that's precisely what Mila Young, a five-foot-four enchantment with doe-eyed chestnut brown, a hint of red, and a sweetness, did... twice.
She danced through, unafraid of storms, and her kindness, a gentle current, flowed around me, eroding my icy barriers. When she smiled, it felt as if the sun peeked over the horizon after a long night. She'd share stories, dreams, and secrets, and I'd listen, my heart thawing inch by inch, and peaceful sleep, a luxury I'd denied myself for years, became a possibility with her nearby. Those relentless nightmares retreated, and beneath the moon that had witnessed my solitude, I found solace in her warmth.
Suddenly, the world felt less desolate, and I realized that maybe, just maybe, these emotions weren't useless after all. Maybe they were the very things that could warm a soul frozen in its own shadows... "Sir, apologies for the interruption. The jet is ready for takeoff," Edmond, my secretary, announces with a sense of urgency in his voice, pulling me out of the warm embrace of my memories.
I snap back into the cold reality of the present and acknowledge his presence with a curt nod, but my gaze remains ensnared by my own reflection, fingers fumbling with the cufflinks she once gifted me. It's a subconscious gesture, a ritual that connects me to memories I can't escape.
Five years ago, our worlds collided. She walked into my life like a ray of sunshine piercing through storm clouds. Her laughter echoed in the deepest corners of my soul, and her smile became my salvation. Unaware of her sway over me, she radiated warmth, and I felt a strong urge to stay by her side and ensure that her radiant smile never faded away.
But fairy tales are elusive; duty called, and I had to depart, leaving behind pieces of my heart. The ache of that separation has stayed with me, etched into my bones, like a constant companion, whispering reminders of what I've lost.
Every day in this life has been a struggle, a painful and desperate struggle to breathe, and all I want is to run away from it all, yet when I think of her, when her image dances in the quiet corners of my mind, I find renewed resolve, the will to try again, and now, at twenty-six, she remains my reason for clinging to this existence, the very and only person who stirs warmth within my chest. When the cold world conspires to suffocate me, her smile pierces through the darkness, reminding me that I'm still breathing, still alive.
It's my lifeline, fragile yet unyielding.
And her?
Well, I harbor no expectations.
I don't wish for her to cry, her tears to fall, not for me. I'm not worth it. If she chooses to hate me, I'll bear it willingly; after all, I deserve her wrath. But the gnawing fear of her moving on or forgetting me consumes me.
In the mirror's reflection, clenched fists and a taut jaw mirror my inner turmoil.
Just imagining her with someone else, laughing and sharing secrets with him... it ignites a desperate fire within me, a need to reclaim what I lost.
And I'm going to.
I'm going back to the city where it all began, where our paths first crossed.
This time, I won't run.
I'll grovel if I have to, beg for forgiveness, and fight for her. Because she's more than a memory; she's the reason I still breathe.
The girl I left behind, the one who held my fragile heart. I left her once, but I'll cross oceans, defy fate, and rewrite destinies to win her heart back.
And maybe, just maybe, she'll let me back into her world.
