The road was wrapped in a soft grey fog, like the sky itself was holding its breath—suspended between past and possibility. He was driving. I sat beside him. And for the first time in over a year, since the day we ended things, we were here—together again.
There was no tension. No silence begging to be broken. Just a quiet hum between us, like peace had finally made its way back in.
Seeing him again after all this time felt like standing at the edge of a familiar ocean—waves of memory lapping at my chest, pulling me somewhere between comfort and ache.
I glanced over at him, studying the soft curve of his jaw, the way the light kissed his face, painting him like a moment I’d dreamed into life. Then he said, his voice low but steady—
“I have a gift for you… I’ve kept it in my wallet all this time.”
He passed me the leather wallet slowly, like it held a piece of his heart he hadn’t known how to offer before.
My fingers moved as if guided by something unspoken. And there it was—nestled in the small left pocket, just barely peeking out. The delicate outline of a ring. A heart-shaped diamond, glinting like a secret that had been waiting patiently to be seen.
I gasped.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, tears threading through my voice.
“Oh Danny… it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s my heart. Yours. Ours.”
The fog outside deepened as we glided through the mist. The world around us blurred, but inside that car, everything felt sharp, clear, and sacred.
“Why?” I asked.
“How long have you had this?”
His hands never wavered on the wheel. His eyes stayed forward. But his voice cracked open with vulnerability.
“I’ve always known you were the one,” he said softly.
“Letting you go was supposed to protect you… but it broke me. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I never stopped caring. I never stopped loving you.”
A tear slid down my cheek, warm against the cool silence.
“Danny… did you really love me?”
His answer was gentle, but full of weight.
“Yes. I do.”
“Since when?”
He took a breath, and then:
“Since the first time you looked at me like you truly saw me. When your laughter filled up the room like sunlight. When your presence made me feel like I was home. You made me want to protect you, to grow with you. To build a life worth staying for.”
I turned toward him, emotions swirling in my chest. I reached for his hand, turned it palm-up, and pressed a kiss to it. My way of telling him:
I never stopped either.
He wrapped his fingers around mine, rubbing slow, gentle circles with his thumb like he was trying to say all the things he never got to.
I leaned in, eyes glistening, heart wide open, and our lips met—slow and aching, a kiss full of all the words we never said.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered.
“I’ve been kissing your lips in my dreams.”
And he smiled—that smile I knew like the rhythm of my own breath.
We still had things to say. Truths to share. Wounds to name. But for that moment, it didn’t matter. We had found our way back to each other, if only for a little while.
And then—
I woke up.
Tears on my pillow. Heart aching.
The weight of longing pressing heavy on my chest.
But still… I felt grateful.
Because even if it was just a dream—
Even if he’ll never come back—
Even if he never meant to stay…
For a few sacred seconds…
He chose me.
And I got to feel what it might’ve been like if love had been enough.
