During those days, I kept returning to the place where I had first seen the woman in white. Every chance I got, I rode my bicycle into the forest, searching for the hidden path and waiting by the lake, hoping she would appear again. But no matter how many times I came back, I never saw her. Still, I refused to give up. Today was Sunday morning. The sun had just begun to rise, painting the sky in soft shades of gold and orange as a light fog blanketed the forest, making the entire place seem almost magical. I walked down the familiar path, the cool morning air brushing gently against my face while the towering trees stood silently, their branches fading into the mist. Before long, I reached the lake. It was empty. I let out a quiet sigh and stepped closer to the water, where the rising sun reflected perfectly across its calm surface, transforming it into a shimmering sheet of gold. Thin veils of fog drifted lazily above the lake, giving it an almost unreal beauty. Colorful butterflies danced from flower to flower, and birds sang softly in the distance. Everything felt peaceful, beautiful, almost like a dream. I couldn't take my eyes off the breathtaking view. Slowly, I closed my eyes and whispered a quiet wish. "I hope I can see her again." I waited for several more minutes.
Nothing.
I smiled to myself. "I guess not today."
I turned around, ready to leave.
Then...
A soft humming reached my ears.
I froze.
Someone was singing.
The voice was gentle.
Pure.
Beautiful.
I followed the sound, carefully pushing aside the tall grass with my hands as the gentle humming grew louder with every step. Then I saw her. Behind a huge old tree whose roots stretched into the lake, the woman in white sat quietly on a large rock. She was wearing the same white dress, and her long hair swayed softly in the morning breeze. One hand rested in the water, creating small ripples as she absentmindedly traced the surface while singing. It was an old song—"Go Rest High on That Mountain." I knew that song. My older brother used to play it all the time—in the car, in his room, almost everywhere. Back then, I thought it was a strange song for someone his age, but because of David, I had eventually grown to love it too. As the familiar melody reached my ears, memories of my brother came rushing back, and before I realized it, a tear slipped down my cheek. Embarrassed, I lowered my head, only to notice something white appearing in front of me—a handkerchief. Someone was holding it out to me. Slowly, I looked up and found the woman standing right before me, her beautiful eyes filled with quiet concern. She didn't say a single word. Instead, she offered a gentle smile and motioned for me to take the handkerchief. Heat rushed to my face, and without thinking, I quickly turned away, wiping my tears with the sleeve of my jacket.
"I'm... I'm fine," I muttered.
"Something just got into my eye."
For a moment...
Everything was silent.
Then I heard a soft laugh behind me.
It was warm.
Gentle.
"This is the first time," she said between quiet laughs, "that someone has refused my handkerchief."
I scratched the back of my head, feeling even more embarrassed.
She laughed again.
"Don't worry."
Her voice became softer.
"You can look at me now."
"I'll pretend I never saw you crying."
I slowly turned around. She was sitting on the rock again, smiling at me as if nothing had happened.
"I'm not crying," I said, a little louder than I meant to.
She simply nodded with a playful smile.
"Okay."
She tilted her head slightly.
"I believe you."
The smile on her face told me she didn't believe me at all.