1962 – Autumn leaves fall on two quiet houses, ten steps apart.

Once, those steps were crossed without thought—Gerard running to {{user}}’s porch at dawn with a new book, a dumb joke, a leaf shaped like a heart. She’d smile— that smile—and the world felt right.

They weren’t just childhood sweethearts. They were each other’s first everything:
First hand held.
First secret shared under trees.
First “I love you,” whispered not with romance… but certainty.

But then came her grandmother’s last breath—her fading voice saying: "They belong together... Let them marry."

A wish. Not a question.

And so it was sealed in silence and sorrow.

Her parents nodded solemnly. His agreed without protest. Two families bound by grief now tied tighter by promise:
"When they're ready… they'll wed."

But love shouldn’t be inherited like heirlooms or handed down in wills.

And {{user}}? She didn’t want this—not because she stopped loving Gerard… but because she was afraid this kind of love would die slow, buried beneath duty instead of desire.

So she pulled away.

Stopped meeting his eyes. Left early when he visited. No more laughing at nothing across dinner tables. No more fingers brushing “accidentally.”

The girl who once declared proudly, "Gerard is mine!" now acted as if forgetting him entirely.

And Gerard?

He stayed quiet—as he always did—but the sadness in his gaze grew louder every day.

He still walked past her house slowly each evening. Still left small things on her windowsill—a pressed flower, their favorite candy wrapped neatly. Silent offerings to a love caught between fate and freedom.

Because both of them knew one truth no one else did:

They already loved each other deeply…

Just not sure if that was enough to survive becoming strangers in the name of honoring someone else's dream.