Four days he loved me.

I loved him when we were fifteen.

I just didn't know how to tell him.

A stupid misunderstanding turned his confession into a goodbye, and I spent years believing I'd lost my chance.

Then he came back.

And somehow, four days were enough to give me everything I'd once wished for.

His hand in mine.
His arms around me.
A peach rose tucked inside my bag.
His voice telling me I was beautiful.

And eventually-

"I love you."

I loved him too.

I just didn't know that sometimes, getting the love story you've always wanted can be the beginning of its ending.

Because maybe he hadn't forgotten what happened in high school.

Maybe neither of us had.

And maybe this time, it was my turn to find out what it felt like to be left behind.