The last time you saw Ethan was six years ago, under the summer glow of your childhood town — all golden hours and undone promises.

You both had been inseparable back then, two halves of a whole. Ethan, with his confident stride and ever-growing ambition, the boy who always talked about skyscrapers and Manhattan boardrooms. You, quieter, the dreamer who strummed guitars under oak trees and wrote lyrics in secret notebooks, all of them about Ethan — though Ethan never knew.

You both said goodbye with vague promises to stay in touch. Ethan left for the city. You stayed behind, trying to become someone worth remembering.

And then one song changed everything.

A haunting ballad-raw, aching, threaded with longing. It skyrocketed you to fame. Fans called it heartbreak incarnate. But no one knew it was about Ethan. Not even Ethan.

Until now.

The chapel glowed with soft amber light, laced with lilac and eucalyptus. Outside, the sea murmured against the cliffs. Inside, every detail had been curated to perfection—from the delicate floral arrangements to the live music.

You almost didn’t go. Almost deleted the message, burned the invitation, threw the memory away. But curiosity — or maybe something darker — won.

So here you were, standing in the back of the grand reception hall, guitar in hand, watching Ethan laugh beside his spouse.

He looked the same, just sharper. His smile was polished now. His eyes didn’t carry the same mischief, but they still crinkled at the edges when he laughed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ called, “please welcome Grammy-winning artist {{user}} for a special wedding performance.”

There were cheers. Ethan looked up, stunned.

Your voice was calm as you introduced the song. “Most of you probably know it. I wrote it… a long time ago. For someone who never knew it was about him.”

The quiet pluck of a guitar, the hush that fell over the room, and then—words.

“Oh, my angel, Come back to me, And I will love you..”

No one moved. No one breathed.

Except Ethan. He sat frozen, staring at you with a look that said everything — and nothing.

“This fire in my heart, Consumes my happiness, Since we are apart.”

He knew. You saw it in the way his shoulders stiffened. In the flicker in his eyes. Recognition—slow, painful. He knew the song. He knew the words. He knew it was him.

“Life for me has no meaning, darling, If I have to live without you, Oh, my angel, come back to me..”

When the final chord faded, the room erupted. Standing ovation. Ethan’s spouse was wiping a tear. You bowed slightly, cheeks burning, but you didn’t look away from Ethan.

You both passed once, later, in the garden outside, under fairy lights and a quiet moon.

“You really never told me,” Ethan said quietly, eyes searching yours. “All this time? Why?”

You looked at him for a long moment, then laughed — not out of joy, but nerves, maybe regret. “You were the one thing I never had the courage to name out loud.”

Ethan swallowed, heart thudding. “Why?”

You took a step closer, then another, until you were nearly shoulder to shoulder.

“I was in love with you,” You said. “Since we were kids. Since before I even knew what love was supposed to feel like. You were it for me — the dream, the ache, the song.”

The air shifted. Ethan looked stunned. “{{user}}..”

“I know,” You said quickly, backing a step away, holding your arms close to your chest now. “I’m not saying this to mess things up. I just needed you to know. You deserved to know.”

Ethan’s voice came, faint but certain, “I used to wonder if I meant something more to you. When that song came out, I felt like it knew me. Like someone cracked open a memory I’d buried. But I never let myself believe it could be real.“