Monica and Luis had always been inseparable. Childhood friends turned sweethearts, they navigated life's twists and turns together. But now, standing at the edge of the train platform, Monica's heart clenched.
"Don't go where I can't follow," she whispered, echoing their favorite quote from a fantasy novel they'd read under the old oak tree. It was their secret promise—a way of saying, "Stay safe, come back to me."
Luis adjusted his backpack, eyes filled with determination. "I have to, Monica. It's my dream—exploring distant lands, capturing stories with my camera. You know that."
Monica's fingers trembled. "And what about us? What about our dreams?"
Luis stepped closer, cupping her face. "We'll find a way. Letters, phone calls, visits. We're Monica and Luis, remember? We can conquer anything."
But as the train's whistle pierced the air, Monica's resolve wavered. Luis was her anchor, her North Star. Without him, the world felt vast and empty.
"I'll call you every day," Luis promised, brushing his lips against hers. "And when I come back, we'll make new memories."
The train pulled away, and Monica pressed her palm to the window, watching Luis shrink into the distance. She mouthed the words, "Don't go where I can't follow," and Luis echoed them back, tears in his eyes.
Months passed. Monica wrote letters, filling them with stories of their hometown, the changing seasons, and her longing. Luis sent postcards from exotic locales, each one a snapshot of adventure. But it wasn't enough.
One snowy evening, Monica received a call. Luis's voice trembled. "Monica, you need to come."
"What's wrong?" Her heart raced. Had something happened to him?
"I'm at the hospital," Luis said. "Unexpected. Twins."
Monica stumbled backward. "Twins? But—"
"I didn't know," Luis whispered. "They're ours. Monica, I need you."
She booked the next flight, her studies forgotten. When she arrived, Luis was waiting, holding two tiny bundles—Ella and Lily. Their daughters.
Monica sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "I'm here," she murmured. "I'll never leave again."
And as she held her daughters, she realized that sometimes, love meant going where you couldn't follow—because family was worth every sacrifice.
