In the end, it wasn't about the grand gestures. It was about being the one who stayed when the music stopped. As I sat by your side, feeling the warmth of your palm against mine, I realized I had kept my promise. I never let go, and neither did you. We had lived a lifetime in the space between our hello and our final goodbye, and that was more than enough.

By the time the lights came up and the crowd began to thin, I knew I didn't want the night to end. We walked until the sun started to peak over the skyline. I watched you dance in the street, your silhouette framed by the morning mist, and I felt a pull in my chest I couldn't quite name yet. I played it cool, but internally, I was already terrified of the day you might decide to walk away.

The two of us met in a crowded room where the air felt thick with cheap perfume and loud music. I wasn’t looking for anything, and neither were you, but when our eyes met, the noise seemed to fade into a dull hum. You looked a little overwhelmed, holding your drink like a shield. I walked over, cracked a joke that wasn't actually that funny, and for some reason, you laughed anyway.