Wrapping his arms around himself as he felt the cold morning breeze, he continued his morning walk. The earthy scent of rain lingered through the air after a night's rain, and patches of gray covered the blue sky, completely blocking out the sun. It was a chilly morning and he already missed the warmth his blankets gave him, but he chose to trudge on with only one mission in mind.

He didn't have anything with him. All he had was the envelope containing the letter she had written for him years ago and his heart on his sleeves. He didn't even have his phone with him nor a watch. All he knew was he had to get there. After all, he had been a little too late.

He didn't know what he was expecting. Was he expecting her to remember? Was he expecting her to come?

He was about to turn when his eyes fell on her. With a cap on and her hair flowing freely down her shoulders, he knew it was her. He remembered everything about her like it was yesterday­—the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way she would pout whenever something upset her, the way she would look at him.

She was the woman he loved; he was the one who continued to hold on. It took him long enough to realize that he was holding on to something that wasn't there anymore. He could not take it against her; they didn't promise to wait for each other. But he had hoped that she would because he was still waiting for her. But he was wrong for believing she still felt the same way.

Mutual friends would ask: why didn't you fight for her? Truth was, he did. In his own little way. He never stopped.

She was smiling as he approached her. Her face was bare, with no trace of makeup, but her natural beauty still shone. She was still beautiful after all these years.

"You remembered," he stated.

"I remember everything, Oppa," she replied with a smile.

He took a seat beside her, leaving a few feet between them. If this was years ago, he would be all over her, his arms wrapped around her lithe b