The air smelled of blooming roses and fresh rain as Claire stepped through the old wrought-iron gate. The garden stretched before her, untouched by time—winding stone paths, ivy-covered archways, and lanterns flickering softly against the evening sky. It was just as she remembered.
Her fingers trailed along the wooden bench near the fountain, the very place where she had spent so many afternoons with him.
Leo.
She closed her eyes, the memory washing over her.
“One day, I’m going to take you somewhere even more beautiful than this,” he had told her, twirling a daisy between his fingers. “And when I do, you’ll know what I’ve been trying to say all along.”
She had laughed back then, teasing him for being dramatic. But she had never asked what he meant.
And then, he was gone.
Life had taken them in different directions—different cities, different dreams. She had told herself it was for the best, that some love stories weren’t meant to last.
So why was she here now?
The sound of footsteps on gravel made her heart lurch.
She turned—and there he was.
Leo stood at the entrance of the garden, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, looking like he had stepped straight out of her memories. His hair was a little shorter, his features a little sharper, but his eyes… his eyes still held the same warmth they always had.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, with a small, breathless smile, Leo said, “I was starting to think you’d never come back.”
Claire swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
He took a slow step forward. “I made a promise, remember?”
She frowned. “What promise?”
Leo exhaled, reaching into his pocket. Slowly, he pulled out a small, dried daisy.
Claire’s breath caught.
The daisy. The same one he had twirled between his fingers that day, the one she had brushed off with a laugh.
“I never got to take you somewhere better,” he murmured, voice softer now. “Because nowhere ever felt quite like this. Quite like… us.”
Claire’s chest ached, a thousand unspoken words rushing through her mind.
She had spent years convincing herself that what they had was fleeting. A chapter. A memory.
But standing here, in the garden that had always been theirs, she realized—
Some love stories don’t end.
Some just wait to be continued.
With a trembling breath, she reached for his hand.
Leo smiled, lacing his fingers through hers.
And as the lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, Claire finally understood what he had been trying to say all along.
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