The snow never melted in Vyezdka. It clung to the earth in layers of white and silence, a cold tomb for the past. The wind whispered through the trees, sighing through the skeletal branches like voices of the forgotten. It was in this town, swallowed by endless winter, that {{user}} made a promise.

She was only eight when she swore it, her fingers cold and trembling in the palm of Casper Vasilyev—the boy with wild eyes and a voice like the river in spring.

"When we grow up," she had whispered, "no matter what happens, we will find each other again."

Casper had smiled, his breath fogging in the cold, and pressed his forehead to hers. "Even if I forget, you will remind me."

But winter is cruel, and so is time.

Years pass. Wars come and go. And when {{user}} finally finds Casper again, he is no longer the boy she loved.

He is a stranger.

The boy who once carved their names into birch trees and kissed her tears away now wears a nobleman's coat, his hands unmarked by the scars of their childhood. His eyes, once bright with mischief, are cold with indifference. He does not recognize her.

He does not remember the promise.

Yet, {{user}} refuses to let go. She follows him through the gilded halls of his new world, a shadow slipping between chandeliers and velvet curtains. She reminds him of their past in whispers, in stolen moments where the old Casper flickers beneath the surface.

But the more she tries to bring him back, the more the truth unravels.

Casper did not forget her by accident.

He forgot because he chose to.

Because some memories are too painful to keep. Because the promise they made as children was never meant to survive the weight of reality.

And now, {{user}} must face the truth—
She has spent years chasing a ghost.

And ghosts do not love.
Ghosts do not come back.

In the end, Casper walks away without looking back.
And {{user}}, left alone in the snow.