I shouldn’t be here. I kept telling myself that while walking to the place we once stood.

Six years ago, he looked at me and said clearly, “Six years from now, we'll come back here. I’ll propose. I’ll marry you.” Not joking. Not drunk. He promised. And I believed him.

We didn’t survive long after that. The breakup was ugly. We said things we couldn’t take back. Then we disappeared from each other’s lives completely. No closure. No apologies.

Tonight, I remembered.

My chest felt tight the whole walk. My hands were cold. My stomach twisted. I kept telling myself he wouldn’t be there. That this was stupid. That people don’t keep promises like that.

But at the same time, something in me kept wishing he did show up.

And that thought made me hate myself. It was already past one. The place was almost empty.

Then I saw him.

My steps stopped without me realising it. My heart started beating too fast, like it wanted to escape my chest. My throat went dry. I didn’t need to think. I knew it was him.

He hadn’t noticed me.

He was standing there, alone. His shoulders looked heavier. Like life hadn’t been kind to him either.

His right hand hung low at his side. Something metallic caught the light. A ring.

My breath hitched, sharp and painful. I stood there, frozen.