Promise

"You know, I kept my part of the promise. The one we made five years ago."

I was lying.

Straight into her face, with a straight expression.

"That's not fair. I wanted to be the one who said it first!"

I knew she was being honest—unlike me.

"Then... I'll wait."

So she could be the only one true to her words, I let her take the lead.

"Next week is my birthday. Can you wait until then?"

"Yes."

She was still the honest one, the sweet one.

The smile on her face was like a flower in bloom, the same one that stole my heart five years ago.

Back then, we were young, and so was our love.

In our ignorance, we thought we'd stay like this forever, even if we grew up, even if we became adults.

But it didn't happen.

We didn't date for long, and our time together was short.

I was only seventeen, still wrestling with my immaturity and insecurities.

When I first saw her, I fell for her.

The way her long hair flowed like a waterfall down her back, the way her enchanting eyes looked at me, the way her lips pursed as she told me her name—all of it felt too good to be true.

One night, after a month of dating, she shared devastating news about her sister. A dark cloud had descended over her life, casting shadows on our happiness.

"I want to see the world," she said. "Travel and maybe find a meaning for life... Not for me, but for the sake of my sister, who decided to leave early."

So, we said goodbye.

"If by any chance we meet again—and we might not—but if we do and we still have feelings for each other, can you promise me something?"

It was all I could say.

We promised to say "I love you" to each other, if we meet again.

It was the last time I ever saw her, the last time I ever talked to her.

I haven't heard from her since then.

Until one day, after five years, we met again.

The girl who was once the center of my world was now a woman, around the age of her sister before the tragedy.

I was sitting at a table, drinking coffee, and reading a book.

She walked into the cafe and stood there, looking around.

She didn't see me.

To me, she seemed to be gazing into empty space.

There was a small smile on her lips, a smile that was only for herself.

Then she left.

It was as if time had stopped.

I got up, leaving everything behind, and ran after her.

As if pulled by an invisible thread, I chased her down the street.

It was only when I was close to her that she turned around.

I stood there, staring into her eyes.

"You found me."

I didn't respond.

She smiled.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Still, I didn't respond.

"You know, I kept my part of the promise. The one we made five years ago."

I was lying.

I didn't keep my part of the promise. I couldn't bring myself to.

I had already moved on with my life.

I wasn't loyal, but I couldn't forget about her.

She was always on my mind, even when I was in bed holding another woman in my arms.

Fate can be pretty ironic.

But the ironies don't end there.

Even now, I'm uncertain if she had a specific purpose in mind when she requested an additional week of waiting.

As the week she had mentioned approached its end, she was involved in a tragic accident.

She was found unconscious and bleeding.

She wouldn't wake up.

When I arrived, she was in a coma.

And then, in an instant, she was gone, leaving me with the weight of unspoken words and unfinished promises.

Long years have passed and now, on my bed, I find myself understanding life's cruel irony. There are three types of people: those who accept the will of Thanatos, those who fight it, and those who simply fail to die.

I was definitely the latter.

I had tried to join her, but somehow, my heart continued beating.

I didn't understand why or how, but it was a miracle that kept me alive, even if it was barely a living.

My heart is no longer capable of pumping blood.

My body is slowly losing its strength.

And now, it has come to this.

I am on the verge of departing, and all I can think about is how much I have regretted not keeping my promise.