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.