Fate Knows Its Path: After 13 Years, I Embraced My Only One Again
My graduation was just around the corner. I eagerly anticipated the evening, even though I didn’t have a date. Still, I was confident that fate would arrange everything perfectly. When the moment came, I would simply know who I was meant to spend the night with.
On that day, I donned a sharp dark suit, smoothed my hair, caught my reflection in the mirror, received my parents’ blessing, and headed to the venue where we were to celebrate.
Among the bright smiles and colorful dresses, my eyes settled on a girl who appeared to be alone as well. I recognized her—Emma was from a parallel class—but we had never spoken before this moment.
Only now did I truly see how unique she was. Slender and graceful, with deep grey eyes and long blonde hair cascading over her delicate shoulders.
I don’t recall how I summoned the courage, but I approached her, extended my hand, and asked her to dance. From that moment until dawn, I danced only with her.
The next day, I knew she was the one. I was smitten.
But fate had other plans.
A Broken Heart
Emma didn’t share my feelings. I learned she had been dating a boy who studied in another city, destined to return after graduation. They were planning to marry.
I couldn’t believe it.
For two years, I lived in anticipation, hoping she might change her mind, that she’d see me differently. I lingered outside her window, staying in the shadows when she stepped out, wishing she’d see me but fearing she’d notice my pain.
Every glance of hers, every word not meant for me tore me apart.
But there was nothing I could do.
When Emma eventually got married, I stood at a distance, watching her wedding.
I made a promise to myself: I would wait.
I tried starting something with others, but no girl could take her place. Everything felt wrong, empty, pointless.
Thirteen long years went by.
A Second Chance from Fate
Then, one day, tragedy struck.
Emma and her husband were in an accident. He died on the spot. By some miracle, she survived but was left with an injury, forced to use a cane.
Fate granted me another chance.
Yet I knew I couldn’t simply intrude into her life.
I waited.
Only when we both turned 35 did I finally take her hand for the first time.
She gazed at me with a look full of weariness, pain, perhaps even regret.
“Why are you still here?” she quietly asked.
I didn’t know how to respond. Because I loved her? Because I never forgot? Because I hoped one day I could tell her everything?
I just drew her close and embraced her.
And from that moment on, we were together.
The Trials We Endured
We spent ten years full of joy. We didn’t have children; after the accident, Emma could no longer have any.
But it didn’t matter.
I loved her. Loved the streak of grey in her hair she didn’t dye. Loved her tired smile. Loved her even when her face lost its color from pain.
But fate took her from me once more.
Emma fell ill. The doctors said there was hope, but she refused treatment.
“I’m not afraid,” she told me one day.
She did one thing—cut her hair short.
“Why?” I asked, shocked.
“To give it to those who still have a fight ahead of them,” she replied.
Her beautiful blonde hair became a wig for another woman who could win the battle.
Emma knew she wasn’t destined to win hers.
I held her hand to the very end.
And if I could live my life over, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d wait for her again. I’d love her all over again.
Because Emma was my heart. My fate. My life.
