Love and Chaos

The early morning light spilled over the rooftops of

Maplewood, a quiet suburban town nestled on the edge of upstate New York. Birds

chirped on telephone wires, school buses hummed in the distance, and the crisp

air still smelled of rain from the night before.

Fifteen-year-old Almira Washington sat quietly on the

front steps of her home, sipping lukewarm cocoa from her chipped "#1 Mom" mug.

The house behind her was modest-two bedrooms, a creaky porch swing, and a yard

that was always just a little too overgrown-but it was home. Her mother, Tonya,

had raised her alone since she was a baby. Despite the struggles, Tonya made

sure Almira had books, love, and dreams bigger than their zip code.

Almira wasn't your typical teenager. She was beautiful,

yes-but not the kind that tried. It was effortless. Her soft curls were always

brushed back neatly, her eyes were intelligent and searching, and her

voice-confident, even when speaking truths people didn't want to hear. She was

kind, quick-witted, and bold, the kind of girl who corrected teachers

respectfully and helped kids with broken lunch cards.

And then there was Sohni Carter.

They had met when they were just six years old. His

family had moved into the house next door from Chicago. He was skinny, wore

glasses too big for his face, and always smelled like peanut butter. Almira

thought he was weird. But then, weird turned into funny. Funny turned into fun.

And soon, Sohni became the heartbeat of her world.

They did everything together-rode their bikes through

Maplewood Park, had sleepovers with pillows between them, and shared secrets

under the stars on the hood of his dad's old Chevy. He made her laugh. She made

him dream.

But life, as it often does, doesn't ask children for

permission before it changes everything.

It started with quiet fights in the Carters' house. Then

louder ones. Then papers served on a Monday morning. The whispers around town

said Sohni's parents were getting a divorce. It didn't feel real until that

Saturday, when Sohni didn't come outside at all.

Then, just like that, everything changed.

That Sunday afternoon, Almira stood on the sidewalk,

watching as Mr. Carter loaded the final boxes into his SUV. Sohni was standing

beside it, holding a small duffel bag and looking like he wanted to disappear.

His eyes locked with hers, and suddenly, nothing around them existed-not the

cars, not the dry summer wind, not the ache in her chest.

"I'm going with my dad," he said quietly.

"Where?" Almira asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Phoenix."

It felt like someone punched her in the chest. Phoenix

was over two thousand miles away. She couldn't bike there. She couldn't even

dream her way there.

"But you'll come back?" she asked, swallowing hard.

Sohni stepped forward and handed her a folded note. Then

he pulled the silver chain from around his neck-his grandfather's old dog

tag-and placed it gently into her hand.

"When I've figured things out... when I've made it...

I'll come back for you," he said. "I promise. And I'm going to marry you one

day, Almira. Just wait for me."

Before she could speak, his dad called from the car.

Sohni turned, opened the door, and was gone.

Just like that.

Almira didn't cry right away. She just stood there in the

growing silence, gripping the dog tag like it was a piece of her heart. The sun

was starting to set, casting a golden glow across Maplewood, and everything

looked exactly the same-but everything had changed.

That night, under a navy-blue sky filled with stars,

Almira read his letter. It was short. Sweet. Full of hope.

And as she pressed the tag to her chest, she made a

silent vow to herself:

"I'll wait for you, Sohni. No matter how long it takes."