Years after the laughter had faded, after the footprints were washed away and the promises dissolved into silence, she returns..
Not to remember him, but to find a place where something could break inside her without shame..
The bench is gone..
The chapel leans toward the sea like a tired prayer..
The heart they drew is no longer there..
But the crack in the earth remains..
She sits quietly on the dry, fractured soil, the same spot where they once believed in something unnamed..
She does not cry.. She listens..
And in that cracked ground, something moves..
Not outside her, but within..
The land gives her space..
To grieve..
To root..
To become..
The crack is no longer just a wound..
It becomes a mark, a place only seen by those who know where to kneel..
Not with a reunion..
But with room..
Room for memory, silence, love, and the kind of goodbye that turns into belonging..
…… is this the end?
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