“Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I promise I’ll be there,” Peter had vowed to Sally, his high school sweetheart, on prom night. That evening, under the sparkling gymnasium lights, they clung to each other, trying to hold on as life pulled them in opposite directions. They made a promise, a beacon to guide them back together.
A decade later, Peter stood in Times Square, hope flickering inside him like the Christmas lights surrounding the bustling city. But instead of Sally, a young girl approached, carrying a truth that would change his life forever.
The memory of that prom night remained vivid. The soft hum of violins, the laughter of classmates, and Sally’s tear-streaked face were etched into Peter’s mind. Her green eyes, full of emotion, locked onto his as they swayed to the music.
“I don’t want to go,” she had whispered, voice trembling.
Peter had pulled her closer, his heart aching. “I know. But some dreams are bigger than us.”
“What about our dream?” Sally asked, fingers tightening around his. “What about us?”
Peter struggled for words, his voice cracking. “We’ll meet again. Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. No matter where life takes us, I promise I’ll be there, looking for you.”
Sally’s laugh had been bittersweet. “Even if we’re married? Even if we have kids?”
“Especially then,” Peter had said, brushing away her tears. “Because some connections transcend everything.”
For years, they stayed in touch through letters, their words a lifeline. But then, Sally’s letters stopped. Peter waited, heart heavy with unanswered questions, but his hope never wavered. He clung to their promise, counting down the days until Christmas Eve.
Now, standing beneath the towering Christmas tree, Peter’s eyes searched the crowd for a flash of yellow—the umbrella Sally promised to carry. Snowflakes swirled as the minutes passed into an hour. His heart sank with each moment, hope dimming like a flickering candle. Then, a soft voice broke through the noise.
“Are you Peter?”
Peter turned to see a young girl, no more than eight, clutching a yellow umbrella. Her brown curls framed a familiar face. Her green eyes—Sally’s eyes—held a nervous intensity.
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