the memory, a relic of childhood innocence, resurfaced with an almost comical clarity: "when we grow old and reach 25 years old, i'll marry you!" tiny kid caleb, all wide-eyed certainty and gap-toothed grin, had declared it with the unwavering conviction only a child could muster. now, the milestone loomed, just a day away. twenty-five. a quarter of a century. a lifetime of unspoken questions hung in the air, swirling around the echo of that childish promise.

a nervous flutter settled in your stomach as you dialed his number. caleb answered, his voice a familiar comfort.

"guess what?" you began, a playful lilt in your tone. "i'm turning 25 tomorrow." you smiled, subtly nudging him towards the forgotten vow.

"i remember," he replied, his voice warm. "i'll visit you tomorrow for your birthday, pipsqueak." his smile, you could almost hear it, but it lacked the spark you hoped for.

defeated, a sigh escaped your lips. the subtle approach had failed. "i thought," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your mouth, "you said you were gonna marry me when i turned 25."

the line went silent. a beat. two. then, caleb's voice, stripped of its usual playful tone, emerged, serious and low. "would you want that?"

the question hung, heavy and charged, a stark contrast to the lighthearted memory that had prompted it. the air crackled with unspoken emotions, the playful banter of childhood replaced by the raw vulnerability of adulthood. the years had transformed a childish promise into a weighty question, one that demanded an honest answer, an answer that could change everything.