We met twenty-one years ago, but time never truly learned how to keep us apart.

There were years when we didn't speak - two, sometimes five. Other times, a single glance across a room was enough to break the silence. No matter how far we drifted, we always found our way back to each other, even if only for a night. It was never planned. Just? inevitable.

He wasn't the one I ended up with. I wasn't the one he chose, either. Life unfolded the way it does - messy, relentless, and full of unexpected turns. But whenever the world quieted, when life gave us a moment to breathe, we'd find ourselves colliding again, as if fate had a glitch it couldn't fix.

We never made promises. We never spoke of forever. Yet there was something in the way he looked at me - like he knew I carried a piece of his soul. And I suppose he carried a piece of mine, too.

Maybe we're not meant to end up together in this lifetime. Maybe we're the kind of story the universe keeps on standby - unfinished, but never forgotten. Still, every time he reappears in my life, I'm reminded of one simple truth:

Love doesn't always stay.

But real love? It never really leaves.