The first snow of winter fell like a million tiny feathers, blanketing the world in a hushed white. Lily, bundled in a thick coat, stood at the bus stop, watching the flakes dance in the streetlights. Her breath puffed out in white clouds, and her heart felt as heavy as the snow.
Each winter, the feeling would return, a dull ache in her chest. This was the time of year she lost him, the year the world turned grey and the snow felt like a shroud.
It started with a stolen glance across the crowded classroom, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He was the new boy, with hair the color of dark chocolate and a smile that could light up a room. He loved poetry, she loved nature, and their love blossomed like a delicate flower in the harsh winter.
They would walk hand-in-hand through the snowy streets, laughing as they left trails in the fresh powder. They built snowmen, their faces mirroring their joy. He would write her poems about the way her eyes sparkled like the winter sun, and she would paint him pictures of the snowy landscapes they explored together.
Then, the accident. A car, a flash of light, a scream that echoed in the silence of the snow-covered road. It happened so fast, a cruel twist of fate that stole him away on a day just like this, where the first snow fell like a blanket of sorrow.
Even now, years later, Lily could still see his smile, the one that had warmed her heart on those cold winter days. The ache in her chest intensified, and she clutched her scarf tighter, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill.
As the bus arrived, she boarded, her eyes fixed on the falling snow. It was a reminder of him, of their love, of the joy that had been stolen away, leaving only the bittersweet memory of his smile. And in her heart, she knew it would always be winter, even when the sun shone and the flowers bloomed. He would forever be frozen in time, a silent figure in the white landscape of her heart.
