Mara had always loved the little seaside village where she grew up. She loved the endless fields, the way the ocean breeze swept through, the calm simplicity of it all. Life was steady, and she had thought she was contented, or at least as contented as one needed to be.
Then came autumn and a stranger—Emil. He had come there to nurse his ailing aunt and planned to stay only a few weeks. Emil was rather shy and gentle, with a soft shy smile and a voice like a gentle breeze. He said little enough, but when he did, the world smoothed out for Mara.
They grew close almost unremembering it, their laughter entwining in the air as they strode along shore or beneath trees, talking of dreams and memories that, as if by intuition, simply didn’t seem difficult to share with another.
For Mara, time was different when with him. She did not just love the days; she cherished them, as if every new warmth marinated in her soul was invigorating because of him. She caught herself thinking of him even when she was apart, feeling a happiness she could not define. But every sweet day was tinted with quiet sadness-she knew he wasn’t going to stay, that his life went elsewhere with her.
That autumn evening when the air felt cooler, and leaves were about to fall, he took her hand. His fingers shook a little. Mara’s heart went pattering. She felt what he was going to say even before he said it.
“Mara,” he started, almost whispering, “I have to go back soon. My job, my family are all waiting for me in the city.
A hard lump formed in her throat, but she nodded. She wanted to ask him to stay, ask if their love could be enough; but she could n’t. She knew he had his own life, a life he had to get back to. Instead she asked, “How long?
A week,” he said, almost too quietly.
She couldn’t turn to look at him, couldn’t let him see the tears she fought. They spent the next few days trying to hold on to each moment, like if they could just make enough of a memory, it could maybe make the leaving easier. But as the week flew by, Mara felt every second slipping through her fingers.
As the sun set on their last night together, he touched her face gently in his mind’s eye, committing her to memory, holding onto this moment as tightly as she held onto his.
“I’ll never forget you, Mara,” he whispered, his voice raw with everything he couldn’t say. She nodded, swallowing the ache in her chest. They stood there for a long moment until he finally turned and walked away, disappearing down the path and out of view. She stood there long after he was gone, feeling as if the wind could bear her away too. Life went on, life continues. The village, the waves, the wildflowers remain the same. Mara was still Mara, with that bright laugh and warm heart, but something had changed. All those who really knew her could feel it—that gentleness, that sadness behind the smile, as if part of her were always peering out toward the shore, holding onto somebody who slipped away. Mara continued living, loving her village, her friends, and her life. Still, in the depths of her, that small part of the heart stood back there on that autumn evening, waiting silently for Emil to return, which never would happen, though she knew.
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