He's scared shitless.
Not because love isn't there,
but because love asks for something
that certainty never can.
Some days it feels
like he's walking backward,
counting footprints instead of miles.
Yet somehow...
the horizon keeps getting closer.
His mind is a noisy librarian,
pulling every worst-case scenario
off dusty shelves.
His heart simply smiles.
"Trust the process."
He's tried to argue with it.
Logic has built entire courtrooms.
Fear has presented evidence.
Hope has quietly sat in the back row,
waiting for its turn to speak.
The countdown continues.
He misses her
in the smallest moments,
the kind that don't announce themselves.
A song.
A familiar laugh.
An empty space beside him
that still feels reserved.
Everywhere he looks,
the universe leaves tiny bookmarks.
A dragonfly pausing long enough
to remind him
that transformation
has wings too.
A Harry Potter quote
appearing at exactly the right moment,
as if magic refuses
to stay inside the pages.
He laughs to himself.
"What are the odds?"
Maybe they're coincidence.
Maybe they're comfort.
Maybe they're simply little lanterns
lighting a path that's impossible
to see all at once.
The future remains unwritten.
He doesn't know
what she'll say.
He doesn't know
how the next chapter begins.
He only knows
that every chapter before this
has somehow led him here.
Then, almost like an echo
traveling through time,
he hears her voice again.
"Look at you... listening to the stars."
He smiles.
Because she never realized
those words
became a constellation
he carried inside him.
So he keeps walking.
Not because he's fearless.
Because courage
has never been the absence of fear.
It's choosing the next step
while your hands are still shaking.
And if the stars have taught him anything,
it's this:
The sky has never rushed
a single sunrise.
Yet somehow,
morning
always arrives.
