You’d made the promise on a clear night, tucked under thick blankets on the bed in his cabin. His fingers had been tracing lazy circles on your back, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

—"Let’s not love anyone else," you had whispered, half-smiling, not realizing how serious it would become.

—"I won’t if you don’t," he had murmured back, kissing your hair.

It had been three days after your two-year anniversary. You were young, but it felt eternal. That promise had felt like a vow stronger than any ring.

And then, five days later, everything shattered.

The fight came out of nowhere, or maybe it had been building. Misunderstandings, buried emotions, exhaustion, and fear. Words were said that couldn’t be unsaid. You both said things to hurt, to win, not realizing no one could.

You left Haven that same week. Without looking back. You didn’t even pack properly. Just walked out of Ryan’s life with a suitcase and swollen eyes.

Neither of you broke the promise, but both of you broke each other.

Now, years later, you were walking down Main Street again. The mountains stood the same, unmoving, like they’d been waiting. Your sister had just had her baby, and you were here to meet your nephew. Just a visit. Temporary.

Or so you told yourself.

You saw him before he saw you. Standing behind the bar counter, wiping down a glass like time hadn’t moved. But as soon as your eyes met his, the years melted.

He stepped out before you could decide if you’d walk past or wave. Just like that, he was in front of you—older, broader, but still Ryan. Still the boy you loved.

Still the boy who hadn’t loved anyone else.

You didn’t say a word.

And then he did.

—“I didn’t know if you’d actually come back.”