“Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I promise I’ll be there,” Peter swore to Sally, his high school sweetheart, on prom night. It was a magical night—under the sparkling gym lights, they held on to each other tightly, as if holding on hard enough could stop time from tearing them apart.
Life was pulling them in different directions, but they made a promise. It was their beacon, a way to guide them back to each other, no matter where life took them.
A decade later, Peter found himself standing in the heart of Times Square. The giant screens flashed bright advertisements, and the Christmas lights sparkled all around him, but his eyes weren’t on the lights—they were searching for Sally. His heart beat with hope, just as the lights around him twinkled in the cold winter air.
But instead of Sally, a young girl appeared in front of him, holding a yellow umbrella. That umbrella was supposed to be Sally’s—just like she promised, and this girl was about to change Peter’s life forever.
The memories of that prom night were still so fresh in Peter’s mind. The soft sounds of violins, the laughter of classmates, and most of all, Sally’s face, streaked with tears, were all still clear in his heart. He could still see her green eyes, full of emotion, staring into his as they danced close to each other.
“I don’t want to go,” she had whispered, her voice shaky.
Peter’s heart squeezed. “I know,” he murmured, pulling her in closer. “But some dreams are bigger than us.”
Sally’s grip tightened on him. “What about our dream? What about us?”
Peter’s throat tightened, and his voice cracked. “We’ll meet again. Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I’ll be there, looking for you. No matter what happens, I promise you, I’ll be there.”
Sally’s laugh was bittersweet. “Even if we’re married? Even if we have kids?”
“Especially then,” Peter had said, brushing away her tears. “Because some connections are stronger than anything.”
For years, they kept in touch through letters. Those letters were like lifelines for both of them, keeping their promise alive. But one day, the letters stopped coming. Peter waited. He waited with hope and with questions that remained unanswered. But no matter how many days passed, he never gave up on their promise.
Now, standing in the middle of Times Square, Peter scanned the crowd for any sign of Sally. She had promised she would carry a yellow umbrella, and he was looking for it. Snowflakes danced in the air as time slipped away. One hour passed. Then another. But there was no sign of Sally.
With each minute, his hope started to fade, just like a candle burning out. Just when his heart felt like it was about to shatter, a small voice cut through the noise of the crowd.
“Are you Peter?”
Peter turned quickly. A young girl, no older than eight, stood before him. She had a yellow umbrella just like Sally’s. Her brown curls framed a pale face, and her green eyes—Sally’s eyes—shone with a nervous intensity.
“Yes, I’m Peter,” he said, his voice trembling. “Who are you?”
“My name is Betty,” the girl said softly. “Mom said I’d find you here.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “Mom? Sally?”
Betty nodded, her eyes dropping to the ground. “She… she’s not coming. She passed away two years ago.”
The words felt like a punch in the stomach. Peter couldn’t breathe. “No… that can’t be true.”
Before Peter could process what he had just heard, an older couple approached. The man’s silver hair and the woman’s sorrowful face were unmistakable.
“Peter,” the man said gently. “I’m Felix, Sally’s father. This is my wife. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Peter shook his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t she tell me? About Betty? About everything?”
Mrs. Felix stepped closer, her hands clasped. “Sally didn’t want to burden you. She found out she was pregnant after she moved to Paris. She thought you had moved on, and with your mother being sick, she didn’t want to add to your pain.”
Betty tugged on Peter’s sleeve. “Before she died, Mom told me you loved her more than anything. She said you’d keep your promise.”
Peter knelt down to her level and hugged Betty tight, tears streaming down his face. “I never stopped loving her,” he whispered. “And I’ll never stop loving you.”
Mrs. Felix handed Peter a worn, leather-bound diary. Sally’s name was embossed on the cover. “She wrote this for you,” she said softly. “Her dreams, her regrets, her love for you… it’s all in here.”
Peter opened the diary, his hands shaking. The pages were filled with Sally’s thoughts, dreams, and reflections. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes fell on a photograph tucked between two of the pages. It was from prom night. Sally and Peter smiled at the camera, as if they held the whole world in their hands.
In the months that followed, Peter worked hard to build a life for Betty. He brought her to the United States and turned his small apartment into a home filled with warmth and laughter. Every night, he would tell Betty stories about her mother—their love, their dreams, and the strength Sally had passed on to her daughter.
On the first Christmas they spent together, Peter and Betty visited Sally’s grave. Snow covered the ground, and a bouquet of yellow roses lay on the stone. It was a tribute to the love that had survived time, distance, and even death.
“Mom used to say yellow was the color of new beginnings,” Betty whispered, her little hand holding Peter’s.
“She was right,” Peter said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “And she would be so proud of you.”
As they stood there, Peter realized that even though he had lost Sally, he had gained something just as precious. Betty was a part of Sally, and in her laughter, courage, and love, Sally lived on. And as Peter looked at Betty, he knew their story wasn’t just about loss. It was about love that endured—and new beginnings.
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