“Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I promise I’ll be there,” Peter said to Sally, his high school sweetheart, on prom night. It was a magical night, with the gym sparkling with lights as they held on to each other. Life was pulling them in different directions, but they had a promise—a promise to guide them back to each other no matter what.
A decade later, Peter stood in the middle of Times Square, the glow of the Christmas lights filling him with hope. But as he looked around for Sally, his heart began to race—not because he saw her, but because a young girl, holding something familiar, walked toward him. What she said next would change everything.
The memories of prom night rushed back to Peter like a flood. The soft sound of violins, the laughter of friends, and Sally’s face streaked with tears. Her green eyes shone brightly as they danced, her body pressed close to his, and her whisper was filled with fear.
“I don’t want to go,” Sally had said, her voice trembling.
Peter felt his heart break. “I know,” he whispered, pulling her even closer. “But sometimes, our dreams are bigger than us.”
“What about our dream?” Sally asked, gripping his hand. “What about us?”
Peter had struggled to find the right words. His voice had cracked as he whispered, “We’ll meet again. Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. No matter what happens, no matter where life takes us, I’ll be there, looking for you.”
Sally had laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh—it was full of sadness. “Even if we’re married? Even if we have kids?”
“Especially then,” Peter had said, wiping away her tears. “Because some connections are too strong to ever disappear.”
They kept in touch over the years, writing letters that meant everything to Peter. But one day, Sally’s letters stopped. Peter waited, heart heavy with unanswered questions, but he never gave up hope. He held on to their promise, counting down the days to Christmas Eve.
Finally, the big day arrived. Peter stood beneath the giant Christmas tree in Times Square, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Sally or her bright yellow umbrella. The snow swirled around him, but as the minutes ticked by, his hope began to fade. Then, just as he was starting to lose faith, a soft voice cut through the noise.
“Are you Peter?” the voice asked.
Peter turned and saw a young girl, no more than eight years old, holding the yellow umbrella. Her brown curls framed a pale face that looked strangely familiar. And her green eyes—Sally’s green eyes—stared back at him, filled with uncertainty.
“Yes, I’m Peter,” he said, his voice shaking. “Who are you?”
“My name is Betty,” the girl whispered. “Mom said I’d find you here.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “Mom? Sally?”
Betty nodded, her eyes falling to the ground. “She… she’s not coming. She passed away two years ago.”
The words hit Peter like a punch to the gut. His legs felt weak. “No… that can’t be true.”
Before he could even think, an older couple walked toward him. The man, with silver hair and a calm voice, and the woman, whose sad but kind face was impossible to mistake.
“Peter,” the man said gently. “I’m Felix, Sally’s father. This is my wife. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Peter was stunned. His voice broke as he asked, “Why didn’t Sally tell me? About Betty? About everything?”
Mrs. Felix stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Sally didn’t want to burden you. She found out she was pregnant after moving to Paris, and she thought you’d moved on with your life. With your mother being sick, she didn’t want to add to your pain.”
Betty tugged at Peter’s sleeve, her voice soft but clear. “Before she died, Mom said you loved her more than anything. She said you’d keep your promise.”
Peter knelt down, pulling Betty into a hug as tears flooded his eyes. “I never stopped loving her,” he whispered. “And I’ll never stop loving you.”
Mrs. Felix handed Peter a worn, leather-bound diary, Sally’s name written on the cover. “She wrote this for you,” she said quietly. “It’s all about her dreams, her regrets, her love for you. It’s all in here.”
Peter’s hands trembled as he opened the diary. Each page overflowed with memories, regrets, and heartfelt words. He reached the last page and found a photograph from prom night—Sally and Peter, smiling, holding on to each other as though they could freeze time.
In the months that followed, Peter focused on building a new life with Betty. He brought her to the U.S., and they transformed his quiet apartment into a home filled with laughter, warmth, and love. Every night, Peter shared stories of Sally—their love, their dreams, and the strength that Sally had passed on to her daughter.
On their first Christmas together, Peter and Betty visited Sally’s grave. The snow had covered the ground, and a bouquet of yellow roses lay on the white surface—a symbol of love that could never be erased by time or death.
“Mom used to say yellow was the color of new beginnings,” Betty said softly, her tiny hand in Peter’s.
“She was right,” Peter replied, his voice filled with emotion. “And she’d be so proud of you.”
As they stood together, Peter realized something deep inside. He had lost Sally, but in a way, he had gained her back. In Betty’s laughter, her courage, and the love she shared, Sally lived on. And in that moment, Peter knew that their story wasn’t about loss—it was about enduring love and new beginnings.
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