The war took him away, and you waited. Days turned into months, months into years, but your heart never wavered. You told yourself he would come back. He had to.

Twenty years passed. Seasons changed, the world moved on, but you remained waiting, hoping. Your face bore the quiet traces of time, but your heart stayed frozen in the past.

Then, one afternoon, as you sat on a park bench, you saw him.

At first, it didn’t feel real. His hair was streaked with gray, but his eyes—those familiar, aching eyes still held the warmth you had memorized. But he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood nearby, laughing as she played with two children. His children. His family.

Your breath caught in your throat as he turned toward you. Recognition flickered across his face, and before you could look away, he was walking toward you.

You didn’t know what to do. You had rehearsed this moment a thousand times, imagined him finding you, imagined falling into his arms. But not like this.

He stopped before you, close enough to touch, yet impossibly far. And then, he smiled. "Hi, it's been a long time."

His voice was steady, familiar. A ghost of the past made real.

You forced yourself to smile, though your hands trembled in your lap. "Yes, it is."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You looked at him, the man you loved, the man you waited for, the man you thought would come back. But he had built a life without you. He belonged to someone else now.

He sat beside you, but not close enough. Once, he would have taken your hand. Once, you would have leaned into him. Now, there was only distance.

His voice was gentle. "How are you?"

You turned away for a moment, blinking back the sting in your eyes. Then, you met his gaze. "Still the same. Still woman you left and asked to wait"