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A Promise Across Time

A Promise Across Time

The rain had just started when Aarya ducked under the old bus stop shelter. Her long hair, darkened by the drizzle, clung to her face. She shook her head and laughed softly, realizing she had forgotten her umbrella yet again. The world around her smelled of wet earth, and the street glistened with tiny rivers flowing toward the gutters.

It was then she noticed him—sitting on the far end of the wooden bench. A book rested in his hands, its edges curled with age. His eyes flickered up briefly, and for a moment, they held hers. Aarya felt her heart skip, not from recognition, but from a strange familiarity she couldn’t place.

“Bad day for the skies,” he said, closing the book with a smile.

“Or a good one,” Aarya replied. “Depends on how you see it.”

They both laughed at the simple exchange. The sound was unremarkable, yet it lingered in the air, weaving a thread between them.

Minutes turned into an hour. They spoke of little things—the smell of books, the unpredictability of weather, favorite places in the city. She learned his name was Raghav. He spoke with a calmness that made her restless heart settle. When her bus finally came, she hesitated before climbing aboard. He noticed.

“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” he said.

“Perhaps,” she echoed, though she didn’t believe in coincidences.

Days passed, and the memory of that rainy afternoon grew stronger instead of fading. Aarya found herself lingering near the bus stop, half-hoping to see him again. And one evening, as the sky turned golden, there he was. This time, she wasn’t surprised. She felt almost as if she had known he would appear.

Over the weeks that followed, their meetings became less accidental. Coffee turned into dinners, long walks into conversations that stretched until dawn. Raghav wasn’t just someone she had met—he was someone she felt she had been waiting for. He listened to her dreams, her fears, even her silence.

One night, while they sat by the lake, he asked, “Do you believe in love that has no beginning?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“A love that feels like it has always existed. Like two souls remembering each other, not discovering for the first time.”

His words struck her deeply, echoing the very feeling she hadn’t dared to name. She touched his hand gently and whispered, “Yes. I think I’ve found it.”

Their story unfolded beautifully—until the storm came.

Raghav was diagnosed with a heart condition, one that had been hidden beneath his calm smile. Doctors spoke in careful tones, offering timelines instead of promises. Aarya felt her world tilt, but Raghav remained steady.

“I don’t want you to drown in sorrow,” he told her one evening, when she sat beside his hospital bed. “Love isn’t measured in years. It’s in moments. And we’ve had more moments than I ever dreamed of.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down. “No. I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Then don’t lose me,” he said softly. “Carry me forward. Love doesn’t end with time—it stretches beyond it.”

When Raghav passed away on a quiet winter morning, Aarya felt a piece of herself vanish. Yet, she remembered his words. She carried his love into every sunrise she watched, every book she read, every laugh she shared.

Years later, on a rainy afternoon, Aarya found herself at the same bus stop. She sat on the familiar bench, memories flooding her. As the rain thickened, she smiled to herself, whispering into the damp air, “We’ll meet again.”

At that moment, a young man rushed under the shelter, shaking off raindrops. He glanced at her, and for a fleeting second, their eyes met—filled with a strange familiarity, as if two souls were recognizing each other once more.

Aarya’s heart lifted. Love, she realized, never truly ends. It simply finds a way to begin again.

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