“Ten years from now, on Christmas Eve, in Times Square. I promise I’ll be there,” Peter said with conviction, his eyes locked with Sally’s on their prom night. It was a vow made under the spell of young love, filled with dreams and hope for a future neither could predict. A decade later, Peter stood in Times Square, ready to fulfill his promise. But instead of the reunion he had envisioned, a young girl approached him, carrying a truth that would forever alter his life.

The music from their prom had been soft, violins weaving through the air as Peter and Sally shared a moment neither wanted to end. Holding her hands tightly, Peter traced her knuckles with his thumbs, as if memorizing the feeling of her touch. Sally’s mascara was smudged from tears, her flushed cheeks a testament to the emotion of their impending goodbye.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I know,” Peter said, barely holding back his own tears. “I don’t want you to go either, Sally. But some dreams are bigger than us.”

Her green eyes flared with determination. “What about our dream? What about everything we planned?”

Peter pulled her closer, his voice a mix of strength and vulnerability. “You have to go. Your family, your dreams in Europe… I won’t hold you back.”

Tears streamed down her face. “But what about us?”

Peter leaned in, closing the distance between them. “We’ll meet again,” he promised. “If life separates us, ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I’ll look for you, holding a yellow umbrella.”

Her laugh was bittersweet. “Even if we’re married? Even if we have kids?”

“Especially then,” Peter replied. “Because some connections transcend time.”

They held each other tightly, the world spinning around them, knowing this wasn’t just a goodbye—it was a promise wrapped in faith.

Over the years, Peter and Sally stayed in touch, exchanging letters that kept their bond alive. But then, one day, the letters stopped. Peter was heartbroken but clung to the hope of their promised meeting.

On Christmas Eve, ten years later, Times Square shimmered with holiday lights and the hum of festive cheer. Peter stood near the towering Christmas tree, his coat buttoned against the winter chill. Snowflakes fell gently, melting on his dark hair as he scanned the crowd for the yellow umbrella.

An hour passed, and his heart sank. Just as he considered leaving, a small voice called out, hesitant but clear. “Are you Peter?”

Peter turned to see a young girl clutching a yellow umbrella. Her wide green eyes mirrored someone he had once known. “Yes,” he said, his voice shaky. “Who are you?”

“My name is Betty,” she whispered. “She… she’s not coming.”

A cold dread washed over him. “What do you mean? Where’s Sally?”

Before the girl could answer, an older couple approached. “We’re Sally’s parents,” the man said gently. “She passed away two years ago. Cancer.”

Peter staggered, the words striking like a physical blow. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

Mrs. Felix handed him a diary. “She wanted to protect you. She found out she was pregnant after moving to Paris and didn’t want to burden you. She thought you’d moved on.”

Peter’s hands trembled as he opened the diary. Each page was filled with Sally’s thoughts, dreams, and love for him. A photograph slipped out—a snapshot from prom night, their younger selves lost in each other’s eyes. Betty’s small hand tugged at his sleeve, grounding him. “She said you loved her more than anything,” the girl whispered.

Peter knelt, his eyes level with Betty’s. “You’re my daughter?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Betty nodded, tears in her green eyes. “Mom said I look like you.”

Peter embraced her tightly, overwhelmed by a mix of grief and joy. “You do, sweetheart. And you look like her too.”

The days that followed were filled with stories, laughter, and tears. Betty shared memories of Sally, weaving a tapestry of a life Peter had missed. Determined to bring Betty into his life, Peter worked tirelessly to arrange for her to live with him in the U.S.

In his once-quiet apartment, Betty’s laughter filled the space, a living echo of Sally’s spirit. Peter often traveled to Europe to visit Sally’s parents and her grave, each trip a bittersweet journey of love and loss.

On the first Christmas they spent together, Peter and Betty stood by Sally’s grave, a bouquet of yellow roses in hand. “She always said yellow was the color of new beginnings,” Betty whispered.

Peter placed an arm around her. “She was right. And she’d be so proud of you.”

Looking at his daughter, Peter felt the weight of Sally’s love in every moment they shared. “I’ll never let you go,” he promised.

Betty smiled, her green eyes shining. “Promise?”

“Forever,” Peter said, his heart full of love, loss, and the promise of a new beginning.