Chapter 5 Does True Love Exist; Do I Deserve to Be Happy

Dear Diary,

Is it selfish to want something that makes me so happy, knowing it came at the cost of someone else's pain? Ethan makes me feel alive in ways I didn't think were possible, but sometimes, I wonder if I deserve it.

Jane forgave me-or at least, she said she did-but I see it in her eyes: the weight she's carrying hasn't lifted. There's still a distance between us, a silence that feels heavier than her words ever could. And I'm terrified it will grow into something we can't fix.

I keep thinking about the people I've lost, how the world always seems to find a way to take everything from me. What if I lose Ethan too? What if this isn't real? What if love, true love, doesn't even exist?

And maybe it's not about love. Maybe it's about me. Maybe I don't deserve to be happy.

The Classroom Buzz

The chatter in Mr. Carter's history class was louder than usual as students filed in, some slouching in their seats, others hurriedly flipping through their notes. Rachel, as always, made her presence known, leaning toward her seatmate with a dramatic flourish.

"Don't you think it's weird?" she began, her voice just loud enough to be overheard by the nearest students. "Abigail, Ethan, and Jane... something's going on there. You can feel it. It's like... tension or something."

Her seatmate, a girl named Mia, raised an eyebrow. "Rachel, seriously? Jane just lost her brother. Maybe she's not exactly in the mood to be her usual self. And Abigail's probably trying to support her. You're reading too much into it."

Rachel scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Come on, Mia. I'm not saying I don't feel bad for Jane, but you can't tell me you haven't noticed the way Ethan and Abigail have been acting around each other. And Jane? She's barely even talking to anyone. I think there's more to the story, and I'm going to find out."

Mia frowned, her voice turning sharper. "You ever think about how Jane might feel? She's going through enough already without people like you turning her life into gossip. She lost her brother, Rachel. That's not some juicy drama for you to dissect."

Rachel blinked, clearly not expecting the pushback. She opened her mouth to respond but faltered, realizing that several nearby students had gone quiet, their attention now on her.

Mia sighed and turned back to her notes, leaving Rachel stewing in silence.

An Old voice

Abigail's room felt smaller tonight, the familiar glow of her desk lamp failing to chase away the shadows pressing in around her. She lay sprawled across her bed, her chemistry textbook open beside her, but the words on the page refused to settle in her mind. Her fingers absently traced the frayed edges of the bedspread, as though searching for something steady in a world that felt anything but.

The faint scent of lavender drifted from her diffuser, mingling with the distant hum of crickets outside her window. It should have been soothing, but it only sharpened the ache inside her. She glanced at her phone on the nightstand, its screen dark, and let out a soft sigh. She missed the days when everything felt lighter-when Jane's laughter filled the room, and the silence wasn't so heavy.

Her phone buzzed suddenly, shattering the quiet. Abigail reached for it, her grandmother's name glowing on the screen. A flicker of warmth crossed her face as she answered.

"Hi, Grandma."

"Hello, my dear," her grandmother's familiar voice came through, warm and steady. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm managing," Abigail said, sinking back into her pillow. "Studying, mostly. Exams are coming up fast."

"Those exams," her grandmother chuckled softly. "Your mother used to fret over hers too, always convinced she'd fail. But she never did, and neither will you."

Abigail's chest tightened at the mention of her mother. She forced herself to focus on the steady rhythm of her grandmother's voice. "How's everyone at home?"

"Oh, the winter's set in early this year. The nights are colder, but your brother's been keeping the fireplace going. You wouldn't recognize him, Abigail-he's grown so much. Strong and steady, just like your grandfather was."

A pang of longing swept over her. She missed the warmth of home. "I'll visit again soon," she promised, her voice soft. "After exams."

"We'd love that, sweetheart. We will Truely love that", Her grandmother's voice faltered briefly, then grew careful. "And how's Jane? I've been worried about her."

Abigail hesitated, her fingers brushing the necklace around her neck-the wedding ring she always carried close. "She's... trying. But it's hard. Losing Andrew-it's still so fresh. She's not herself."

"Grief takes time," her grandmother said gently. "But it doesn't last forever. Be patient with her, Abigail. Just be there when she needs you."

"I'll try," Abigail murmured, though the weight of her own guilt sat heavy on her chest.

A brief pause followed, and then her grandmother's voice brightened. "There's someone here who's been waiting to talk to you."

Abigail blinked, sitting up straighter. "Who?"

There was a shuffle on the other end, her grandmother passing the phone to someone else. Then came a voice she hadn't heard in years, deep and hesitant.

"Abby? It's me."

Her breath caught. The phone trembled in her hand as the voice broke through the silence, heavy with memories she'd tried to forget. Her fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles white as the word hung in the air.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Abby. It's me," came the voice on the other end-hesitant, fragile, as though afraid the wrong word might shatter the moment.

Twelve years. Twelve years of silence, of unanswered questions, of waiting for a father who never came back. Her throat tightened as a storm of emotions swelled inside her-anger, sorrow, disbelief.

"How... how dare you call me?" she said, her voice low but trembling with fury. "After all this time? After twelve years?"

"Abigail, I know... I know I've failed you," he began, his voice breaking slightly. "I've failed you and your brother in ways I can't ever undo. But please, just let me explain-"

"Explain?" she snapped, sitting upright now, her heart pounding. "What is there to explain? You left us, Dad. You didn't just leave a house; you left a family. You left me. You left him. And you never even said goodbye."

Her father's voice grew softer, laced with regret. "I was broken, Abby. Your mother... losing her..." He took a shaky breath. "It destroyed me. I couldn't think straight, couldn't... couldn't even breathe. Every time I looked at you and your brother, I saw her, and it hurt so much. I thought I was sparing you by leaving."

Abigail let out a bitter laugh, "Don't blame this on mom, don't" tears welling in her eyes. "Sparing us? You didn't spare us anything, Dad. Do you know what it was like growing up without you? Watching other kids with their fathers at school events while I had to make excuses? Do you know how many nights my brother cried himself to sleep because he didn't understand why his dad wasn't there?"

Her father's silence on the other end was deafening.

"I had to be both for him," she continued, her voice trembling now with emotion. "I had to grow up faster than I should have, just so he wouldn't feel the emptiness you left behind. Do you know what it's like to be six years old and trying to comfort a crying baby because he's too young to know why everything's falling apart?"

"I know I can't make up for what I've done," her father said softly. "But I've spent these years trying to find myself again, Abby. To be someone you and your brother could be proud of. I want to come back-to fix things."

Her grip on the phone tightened. "Fix things? You think you can just come back and fix twelve years of pain and abandonment with a phone call?"

"No," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even know if I deserve it. But I'm here now, and I want to try. I want to be there for you and your brother, for however much time you'll let me."

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "He doesn't even know you, Dad, He doesn't even remember your face."

Her father let out a pained sigh, her words crushing him. "I deserve that. I do. But I want to change it. I want to know him. And I want to know you again."

"I don't know if I can forgive you," Abigail said, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. "You weren't there for the hardest years of our lives. You left me to grow up alone, to figure everything out on my own. And I don't know if I can trust you not to leave again."

"I won't," he said firmly, desperation bleeding into his tone. "I swear to you, Abby, I won't leave again. I know I can't ask for much, but... please. Let me try to be the father you deserve. Let me earn your trust, your forgiveness-if you'll let me."

Abigail's shoulders sagged, her emotions pulling her down. She wanted to scream at him; to tell him he didn't deserve another chance. But deep down, buried beneath the anger and hurt, was the girl who had once clung to the hope that her dad would come back for her.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, her voice raw.

"You don't have to decide now," he said gently. "I'll give you time, as much as you need. I just needed you to know that I'm here... and that I'm sorry."

Abigail closed her eyes, the tears falling freely now. "I'll think about it."

"Thank you," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "That's all I can ask for."

She ended the call without another word, just a stream of tears.

Abigail, crumpled on the floor by her bed, the phone still in her hand, her face buried in her knees as sobs wracked her body. Tears soaked the fabric of her jeans, and her breaths came in short, uneven gasps. everything-the years of pain, the shock of hearing his voice, and the anger she couldn't contain-crushed her like a tidal wave.

The door creaked open. Jane stepped in, carrying a bundle of books in one hand and her school bag in the other. Her face lit with a smile as she entered, but it quickly vanished when she saw Abigail. The books tumbled to the floor.

"Abby?" Jane's voice was a mix of alarm and confusion. She dropped her bag and hurried to her friend's side, kneeling beside her. "What happened? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?"

Abigail tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form. Her chest heaved as she fought to rein in the sobs, but the dam had burst, and she couldn't stop the flood.

"Abby, you're scaring me," Jane said softly, placing a hand on Abigail's shoulder. "Talk to me, please, is grandma alright?"

Abigail finally lifted her head, her tear-streaked face filled with anguish. Her lips quivered as she forced the words out. "He called, Jane. My dad... he called me."

Jane froze, her eyes widening in shock. "Your dad?" she repeated, as though trying to process the statement. "After all these years?"

Abigail nodded, her hands trembling. "He... he wants to come back. He says he's sorry. That he wants to fix things. But I... I don't know if I can do it, Jane. I don't know if I can ever forgive him."

Jane's heart broke at the sight of her friend's pain. She sat beside Abigail on the floor, her arm draped around her shoulders. "What did he say?"

Abigail's voice cracked as she spoke, the words pouring out like a confession. "He said he was broken after Mom died, that he couldn't handle the grief. But what about me, Jane? What about my brother? He left us. He left me to pick up the pieces, to be everything we needed because he couldn't. I had to grow up so fast... I had to become someone I didn't want to be."

Jane listened intently, her hand rubbing gentle circles on Abigail's back. "Abby..." she started, her voice soft, "I can't pretend to know what you're feeling right now. I can't imagine what it's been like for you. But... I do know this. Your dad is alive. He's not gone forever. And as long as there's life, there's hope."

Abigail shook her head, her tears falling anew. "But how can I hope for anything? How can I trust him after everything he did to us?"

Jane sighed, her own eyes misting with unshed tears. "Because he's your dad, Abby. And even though he hurt you, he's trying now. It's not going to be easy, and I'm not saying you have to forgive him today, or even tomorrow. But... I've learned something since Andrew died." Her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard, willing herself to continue. "When we truly understand how short life is, we gain wisdom. The wisdom of the heart. We realize what matters most."

She paused, her tears finally spilling over. "I'd give anything to have Andrew back, even for just one more day. Anything to hear his voice, to tell him I love him. Abby... your dad is still here. Don't let the chance slip away before it's too late."

Abigail's sobs quieted as Jane's words sank in. She turned to her friend, and for the first time, she noticed the tears streaming down Jane's cheeks. "Jane..."

"I miss him so much," Jane admitted, her voice breaking as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I try to be strong, but it still hurts. Every single day. And seeing you like this... it just makes me wish I'd had more time with him."

Abigail reached out; her anger momentarily eclipsed by the sight of her friend's grief. She pulled Jane into a hug, holding her tightly as Jane's tears soaked into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Jane," she whispered, her own tears mingling with her friend's.

The two girls sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, their grief and pain entwined. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only their shared vulnerability.

"You're right," Abigail murmured after a long silence. "Life is short. And maybe... maybe I don't know how to forgive him yet. But I don't want to hate him forever. I've already spent so much of my life angry and sad. I just... I don't want to feel this way anymore."

Jane pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face breaking into a small, sad smile. "You'll figure it out, Abby. You always do. And I'll be here, no matter what."

Abigail nodded; her chest still heavy but her resolve starting to take shape. "Thank you, Jane."

"Always," Jane said, squeezing her hand.

In that moment, amidst the tears and the pain, both girls found a small piece of hope-a reminder that even in their darkest moments, they weren't alone.

Saturday morning

Abigail's curtains, casting soft golden rays onto her desk. She sat there, her journal open, the pen poised in her hand as she stared at the blank page, her emotions still raw from the night before. She took a deep breath, then began to write.

Dear Diary,

Last night, my world tilted on its axis again. He called-my dad.

I don't know if I can forgive him. I don't know if I even want to. But Jane's words keep replaying in my mind: "Where there is life, there is hope." She's right. He's still alive, and I... I don't know if I can face the thought of losing him again. Not without at least trying.

Abigail paused, her pen hovering over the paper as tears blurred her vision. She sniffled, wiped her eyes, and took a steadying breath. Just as she was about to continue, her phone buzzed on the desk.

Text from Ethan:

Hey Abigail,

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. About how much you carry; how much you've endured. And I want you to know something-something I hope you'll believe, even if it takes time.

You are deserving of love. Of the kind of love that lifts you up, not the kind that leaves you feeling less than whole. You amaze me, Abigail. Not just because you're beautiful (though you are, breathtakingly so), but because you're strong, resilient, and kind.

I know you think your flaws make you hard to love, but to me, they're part of what makes you extraordinary. Your flaws don't diminish your beauty-they enhance it. They tell the story of who you are, and I wouldn't change a single thing about you.

Life isn't perfect, and neither are we. But I want you to know that you're not alone in this. I see you, Abigail. The real you. And I want to be there for you, not to fix you, because you don't need fixing, but to stand beside you, flaws and all.

Tonight, 6 p.m., let's go on a date. Our first. We have so much to catch up on, and I can't wait to spend time with you. I want to talk, to listen, to laugh. And most of all, I want to get lost in the beauty of your eyes again.

What do you say?

Abigail smiled as she read the message, wiping her tears, she clutched her phone to her chest, leaning back in her chair, for the first time in what felt like forever, hope and warmth began to seep through the cracks in her heart.

She looked back at her journal and wrote two final lines beneath her earlier entry.

Dear Diary,

Maybe love isn't about being perfect. Maybe it's about being seen and cherished exactly as you are.

And with that, she picked up her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen before typing a single word in response:

Yes.

Saturday Afternoon

Though the winter chill lingered in the air, the thought of Ethan's words wrapped around Abigail like a warm blanket. The memory of his voice, soft yet confident, replayed in her mind, pushing aside the doubts and fears that had shadowed her for weeks. For the first time in days, she felt lighter, as if the storm within her had finally started to calm.

She decided she couldn't keep this feeling to herself. It was too big, too unfamiliar, and she needed someone to share it with. Jane. Abigail smiled to herself. If anyone would understand, it would be Jane.

She found her roommate in the library, seated at her usual corner table by the tall windows. Jane was hunched over a thick biology textbook, her glasses perched delicately on her nose, her hair pulled into a loose bun. The winter sun streamed through the glass, highlighting her focused expression as she jotted down notes in her tidy handwriting.

Abigail approached, her footsteps light, and tapped the edge of Jane's table.

Jane looked up, her eyes softening as she took in Abigail's face. "You're looking better," she said, closing her book with a gentle thud. "Much less teary. I like this version of you."

Abigail chuckled, a little shyly. "I feel better. Still a lot going on, but...better." She gestured toward the library door. "Come on. Let's take a break. Coffee and cake on me?"

Jane tilted her head, her lips twitching into a grin. "You had me at cake." She quickly gathered her things. "Let's go before I change my mind and decide to stay buried in diagrams of plant cells."

In the cafeteria, they found a cozy corner by the window. Abigail ordered coffee, while Jane picked out a slice of rich chocolate cake, practically bouncing with excitement when it arrived.

"You are way too happy about cake," Abigail teased, watching Jane take her first bite.

Jane waved her fork dismissively, a piece of cake still on it. "Chocolate is therapy, Abby. Don't judge."

Abigail laughed softly, the sound blending with the buzz of the cafeteria. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring the warmth as it seeped through her fingers.

"So," Jane said, her tone shifting to something more curious as she studied Abigail's face. "What's got you smiling like you just found the answers to all of life's questions?"

Abigail smirked, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup. "Ethan asked me out."

Jane froze mid-bite, her fork hovering in the air like a scene from a sitcom. Slowly, she lowered it, her eyes wide. "Wait. Ethan? As in, the guy who was writing you those swoon-worthy poems and stealing glances at you during class? That Ethan?"

"Yes, that Ethan," Abigail said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the grin spreading across her face.

Jane clapped her hands together softly, leaning in as though sharing a secret. "That's amazing, Abby! I'm so happy for you. And... wow, from mystery lover to not-so-mystery lover. Talk about a full-circle moment."

Abigail laughed, her shoulders relaxing. "It's still a little weird, though. Between me, you, and Ethan... I know things might not feel normal for a while, but I hope they will eventually."

Jane's expression softened. "I think they will. You both deserve to be happy, Abby. Truly."

Abigail's smile faltered for just a moment, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. "Thank you, Jane. That means a lot."

Jane waved it off as if it were nothing, but her gaze lingered on Abigail for a moment longer, as though trying to gauge the sincerity in her eyes.

"So," Jane said, her tone brightening, "what's the plan for tonight? Where's he taking you?"

"He said dinner, but nothing specific," Abigail replied, suddenly looking unsure. "I've been looking through my closet, and nothing feels right. Jane, what do I do?"

Jane leaned back in her chair, tapping her chin dramatically. "Lucky for you, I happen to have just the thing."

Abigail raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

"A red gown I bought for my cousin's wedding last year. It's stunning, and it'll look perfect on you," Jane said, her grin widening.

"Jane, I can't take your dress," Abigail protested, shaking her head.

"You can and you will," Jane said, laughing. "Besides, what are friends for?"

Abigail hesitated for a moment before smiling gratefully. "Thank you. Really."

Jane brushed it off with a wave of her hand, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Speaking of dates, I think Steven from social sciences is going to ask me to prom."

Abigail tilted her head, curiosity lighting up her face. "Steven? Why do you think that?"

Jane's cheeks flushed as she shrugged. "There's something in his eyes when he looks at me. I can't explain it, but it's like... hope. Or nervousness. Or both. And yesterday, he offered to help me carry my books. Out of nowhere!"

Abigail grinned, leaning forward. "Oh, Jane, that's really beautiful, I hope it's true for you. But..." She hesitated, then added gently, "Steven seems like a really handsome gentleman and you, a really beautiful, young and smart lady, do not make too much out of his gestures, just go with the flow and see were it leads.

Jane laughed; her face relaxing. "You're right. Like a gentle breeze, and the morning due, Cool, calm, and collected."

Abigail laughed with her, "When did you become a poet ha ha ha", the sound filling the cozy space around them. For a moment, everything felt simple, easy, and filled with promise. Whatever the evening brought, Abigail knew she wasn't alone, and that made all the difference.

The Best Date

A sleek black BMW purred softly in front of the school gates, its polished exterior gleaming under the fading sunlight. The sight of the luxury car turned heads immediately. Mia, who had been chatting idly with Rachel, nudged her friend sharply.

"Rachel, look!" she whispered excitedly, pointing toward the car.

Rachel's eyes widened as she fumbled to pull out her phone, her hands trembling with the thrill of capturing the moment. Her gaze locked on Abigail, stepping out of the school in a breathtaking red gown that seemed to glow with every step she took.

"Is that... Abigail?" Rachel stammered, disbelief and curiosity mixing in her voice.

"Yes!" Mia confirmed, her tone thick with intrigue.

Abigail moved with grace, her gown swaying elegantly as she approached the car. Her hair was styled simply but beautifully, framing her face in soft waves that shimmered in the golden light. Before she could reach the car door, a man in a tailored black suit stepped out-clearly a servant-and opened the door for her with a respectful bow.

Rachel gasped audibly, her excitement doubling. "Mia, Mia, we have to find Jane. She'll have the full story. Abigail has a rich boyfriend now? Or where is she going in such a luxurious car?"

Mia nodded vigorously, already pulling Rachel toward the dorms to find Jane, leaving behind the chatter of curious onlookers.

Abigail, meanwhile, felt a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. As she settled into the plush leather seat, the door closed softly behind her, shutting out the murmurs from the school. She felt like a queen in a fairy tale, whisked away to an evening she could have only dreamed about.

The drive was smooth and silent, the faint scent of fresh leather and jasmine filling the air inside the vehicle. The city unfolded before her as the car cruised toward its destination. Streetlights flickered on, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets. Abigail's heart raced with every passing moment, her anticipation growing.

The car eventually pulled up to one of the most luxurious restaurants in town-a grand establishment with towering glass walls that sparkled like diamonds in the night. The name La Maison Élégance was etched in gold letters above the entrance, exuding an aura of exclusivity and sophistication.

As the car rolled to a stop, Abigail spotted Ethan standing just outside the restaurant. He was waiting by the entrance, dressed impeccably in a tailored navy suit that complemented his sharp features. His hair was neatly styled, and his posture radiated both confidence and a hint of nervousness.

The car door opened, and Abigail stepped out, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone driveway. Before she could fully adjust to the setting, Ethan was already by her side, a warm smile lighting up his face.

"You look... absolutely stunning," he said, his voice soft but filled with genuine admiration.

Abigail felt her cheeks flush, the warmth in his words sinking deep into her heart. "Thank you," she replied, her voice almost a whisper. "You look amazing too."

Ethan extended his arm, and she took it, feeling a rush of excitement as they walked toward the grand entrance together. The doorman greeted them with a courteous nod, pulling the glass door open to reveal the restaurant's lavish interior.

Inside, the atmosphere was mesmerizing. A soft golden glow bathed the space, reflecting off crystal chandeliers that hung like jewels from the high ceiling. Tables were adorned with crisp white linens and elegant floral centrepieces, while a live string quartet played a delicate melody in the background. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, fine wine, and exotic spices.

Ethan guided her to a table, overlooking the twinkling cityscape below. As they sat, Abigail couldn't help but glance at him, her nerves settling under the steady warmth of his gaze.

"The view is incredible," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

Ethan's eyes never left hers. "It is. But it doesn't hold a candle to you."

Her cheeks flushed again, but this time, she didn't look away.

The waiter arrived, offering menus, and Ethan encouraged her to order whatever she desired. Together, they decided on a three-course meal:

1. Appetizer: A delicate truffle and wild mushroom soup, paired with fresh, crusty bread.

2. Main Course: Herb-crusted lamb chops served with roasted vegetables and a red wine jus for her, and seared salmon with asparagus for him.

3. Dessert: A shared molten chocolate lava cake with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.

As they waited for the food, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Ethan leaned forward slightly, his fingers tracing the rim of his water glass as he spoke.

"My parents just got back from France last week," he began. "They're architects, always traveling for work. It's one of the reasons the house feels so empty sometimes."

Abigail tilted her head, intrigued. "Do you ever feel like you're following in their footsteps?"

He chuckled. "Not exactly. They're brilliant at what they do, but I've always felt drawn to something more personal-writing, creating poetry, music. Things that don't require blueprints or client meetings."

"I think that's wonderful," Abigail said sincerely. "It takes courage to follow your own path."

Ethan smiled, his expression softening. "And what about you, Abigail? I know you love the violin, but is that where you see yourself?"

She hesitated, running her fingers along the edge of the napkin. "I'm not sure. Music has always been my escape, but... sometimes, I wonder if I'm hiding behind it instead of finding what I'm truly meant to do."

Ethan's gaze remained steady. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. The important thing is that you're open to the journey."

The first course arrived, interrupting the moment. The truffle soup was rich and creamy, its earthy aroma filling the air. Abigail took a tentative spoonful, her eyes widening at the depth of flavour.

"This is incredible," she said, earning a grin from Ethan.

"Wait until you try the main course," he teased.

Their conversation shifted to lighter topics-school, Favorite childhood memories, and even the occasional joke. Abigail found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, her recent struggles momentarily lifted.

As the main course was served, the violinist moved closer, her music washing over the table like a comforting embrace. Abigail closed her eyes briefly, letting the melody seep into her soul.

"You know," Ethan said, his voice breaking the spell, "the violin reminds me of you."

Her eyes opened, meeting his curious gaze. "Why?"

"It's elegant, expressive, and capable of evoking the deepest emotions. Just like you."

The sincerity in his voice left her speechless.

By the time dessert arrived, their conversation had turned to dreams and the future. Ethan leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative.

"Do you ever think about what you want your life to look like five years from now?" he asked.

"All the time," Abigail admitted. "But it's hard to picture anything clearly. There's so much uncertainty."

He nodded. "I think that's the beauty of it, though. Life isn't perfect, but it's full of possibilities."

As the waiter cleared their plates, Ethan reached across the table, his hand resting gently on hers.

"Abigail," he began, his voice soft but deliberate. "I have a question I've been meaning to ask you."

Her heart skipped, her breath catching as she looked into his eyes.

"Will you go to prom with me?" he asked, his thumb brushing lightly against her fingers.

The words hung delicate yet profound. Abigail felt a rush of emotions-happiness, excitement, and the faintest trace of nervousness.

"Yes," she whispered, her smile radiant. "I'd love to."

Ethan's smile widened, and for a moment, everything else faded.

The evening continued; their conversation flowed effortlessly. They shared laughter, stories, and moments of quiet connection that spoke louder than words. Every detail of the night-every note of the quartet's music, every flicker of candlelight-felt like it had been crafted just for them.

For the first time in a long time, Abigail allowed herself to be fully present, to embrace the happiness that was hers to hold.

As they stepped outside after dinner, the cool night air wrapped around them. Ethan turned to her, his gaze searching hers.

"Abigail," he murmured, taking a step closer.

Her breath hitched as he gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to-but she didn't.

Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, the world around them dissolving into a blissful haze.

When they pulled apart, Ethan's forehead rested lightly against hers. "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered.

Abigail smiled; her heart full. "Thank you for seeing me."

Hand in hand, they walked back to the waiting car, their hearts entwined as the stars above shone brighter than ever.