He was your everything. No—he is your everything. From the moment your eyes met, it felt like fate had been holding its breath... waiting. You didn’t believe in things like soulmates or invisible strings.

Until him. Until the universe stitched your lives together in quiet, delicate threads only the two of you could feel.

At school, they whispered about him like he was some kind of miracle—gentle, kind, soft-spoken, the kind of boy who made even silence feel warm. White hair that caught sunlight like snow. Eyes like dusk. He loved koi fish—of course he did—because even his love was soft and shimmering. He told you about the garden his parents built just for him, with a pond where the koi swim slow and bright. He named every one.

You remember walking with him by the shore that afternoon. The sky had turned to gold. The sea shimmered like glass. He looked like he belonged to that moment—glowing, untouchable, like something heaven forgot to take back.

And then… you felt it—his hand sliding into yours. You turned, heart pounding like it knew something was about to change.

“Life is beautiful,” he whispered, and his voice was quieter than the waves, but you heard him. You always hear him.

Then he smiled—soft, glowing—and finished:

“With you in it.”