As George laid eyes on Eliana, a storm raged within him. His thoughts spiraled, a relentless wave of doubt crashing against his heart.
"What if I suddenly disappear?"
"Will Eliana be lonely?"
"Am I really doing the right thing for her?"
The questions refused to fade, gnawing at him, dragging him deeper into uncertainty. His grip on the bouquet in his hands tightened, knuckles turning white.
Then, Eliana heard him.
Not just his words, but the weight behind them.
And in that instant, her heart thundered painfully in her chest.
A realization struck her, sharp and unrelenting. What if she lost George?
The thought sent a tremor through her, unraveling something deep inside. Her vision blurred, and before she could even understand what was happening, tears slipped down her cheeks.
She didn’t stop to think. She didn’t hesitate.
She ran to him.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto him as if letting go meant losing him forever. Her body shook with quiet sobs, her fingers clutching his shirt, desperate and afraid.
And yet, George remained silent.
His posture was still, his hands frozen in place, still clutching the bouquet of flowers. The scent of fresh petals filled the air, a bittersweet contrast to the emotions suffocating them both.
With a deep, heavy sigh, George allowed himself to remember.
His gaze drifted across the empty space before him, replaying the past.
He remembered the very first time he saw Eliana sitting there, in this exact spot, her presence like the first note of a song he hadn't yet learned to sing. He remembered the way the sunlight hit her hair, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed.
And now, here they were.
In the same place. The same bench. But this time…
"Do I really have the right to love her?"
"Am I even allowed?"
"Maybe… Maybe I’ll just hurt her when I’m gone."
The thoughts wrapped around his heart like chains, refusing to let go.
But Eliana's arms around him, the warmth of her touch, it felt like something trying to break those chains apart.
With trembling hands, George lifted the bouquet, his fingers brushing against the soft petals. But instead of simply offering it to Eliana, he hesitated. His chest ached, his heart heavy with emotions he couldn’t fully grasp.
Finally, he pressed the bouquet into her hands, his voice barely above a whisper—raw, unguarded.
"I love you. Truly. With everything I am."
The words hung between them, fragile yet unshakable. His gaze softened, his eyes drinking in every detail of her tear-streaked face. Then, with slow, deliberate movement, he leaned in.
A gentle kiss landed on her forehead, lingering for just a moment too long. And in that fleeting second, he let himself believe—believe that maybe, just maybe, this love could last.
Then he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.
"Can I sort out my mind? Please… wait for me."
His thumb brushed against her damp cheek, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. But deep inside, he fought the war raging within himself.
"I want to kiss her. I want to hold her. I want her to know just how much I—"
Before he could finish the thought, Eliana moved.
She must have felt it—his hesitation, his struggle.
Because without warning, she surged forward and captured his lips with her own.
It wasn’t a hesitant kiss. It was raw, desperate, filled with the longing of someone who refused to let go.
For a moment, George froze, his mind blank. But then, as if something inside him finally broke free, he kissed her back.
He didn’t think about the future. He didn’t think about the pain.
He just kissed her.
When they finally parted, Eliana’s face was flushed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She took a shaky breath, her voice quivering but determined.
"I’ll wait for you."
Then, before he could respond, she turned and ran.
Leaving George standing there, breathless, conflicted, lost.
His fingers curled into fists, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs.
"Eliana..."
He was in turmoil.
Because for the first time, he realized—
"What if I never want to let her go?"
As George stepped back into the mall, his mind still clouded with emotions, it was impossible to miss the weight in his steps—as if he carried an invisible burden that only he could bear. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts tangled between longing and uncertainty.
Yet, amidst the chaos inside him, he made a decision.
If he couldn't be by Eliana’s side right now, he would make sure she still felt his presence.
From that day forward, he would leave her a small gift—one each day, with a heartfelt message attached.
The Gifts:
A delicate silver bracelet with a tiny heart charm – "Sorry I’m not here, but when you hold my fingers and drag me to class, my heart beats faster. It was then I realized—my love for you has grown."
A small glass bottle filled with folded paper stars – "Each star is a wish, and every wish is about you. If I could, I’d give you the whole sky."
A single preserved red rose in a glass dome – "Just like this flower, my feelings for you won’t wither. Even when I’m not beside you, my love remains."
A handwritten letter sealed in an elegant envelope – "If words could bridge the distance between us, I would write a thousand pages just to be close to you again."
A music box that plays her favorite melody – "If you ever feel lonely, open this. Let the melody remind you—I’m always listening, always waiting to return to you."
Every gift came with a note—simple, heartfelt, yet filled with emotions George couldn’t say aloud.
Because love, he realized, isn’t always about being present. Sometimes, it’s about making sure the other person never feels alone, even when you're gone.
George wandered through the mall, his steps slow and heavy, as if each one carried the weight of the thoughts swirling in his mind. The lively chatter of shoppers, the scent of freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, and the soft melody playing through the speakers barely registered in his senses. His mind was elsewhere—lost in the memory of Eliana’s touch, the warmth of her whispered words, and the turmoil brewing inside him.
With a deep sigh, he made his way toward the private elevator that led to his condo unit on the upper floors of the mall. The familiar glass doors slid open with a soft chime, and he stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal railing.
But what he didn’t notice was the shadow moving in the distance.
Near the entrance of the elevator lobby, a hooded figure stood among the passing crowd, their presence unnoticed by the bustling shoppers. They remained still, hands tucked into their pockets, their head tilted just slightly downward—but their gaze was locked onto George.
The doors closed with a quiet hiss, sealing him inside.
As the elevator ascended, the hooded figure finally moved, stepping forward slightly, as if committing every detail of George’s movements to memory.
Watching.
Waiting.