The next morning, Annalise woke to the quiet hum of the snow settling outside her window. The small inn she had booked smelled faintly of wood polish and the lingering scent of last night's fire. She lay for a moment beneath the thick quilt, listening to the muffled noises of the town—the scrape of a shovel against the sidewalk, the distant bark of a dog, and the faint laughter of children playing in the snow.
It was a sound she had not realized she had missed until now.
Pulling on a sweater and her scarf, she stepped out into the morning chill. Her breath formed little clouds that vanished into the crisp air as she walked toward the main street. The town was quieter than she remembered at this hour, the snow coating rooftops and lampposts, muffling sound and giving the world a soft, almost magical quality.
She wandered past familiar storefronts, each one carrying a memory she hadn't known she still treasured. The bakery still boasted its hand-painted sign, the letters slightly chipped but still cheerful. A faint whiff of cinnamon and freshly baked bread made her stomach tighten with nostalgia. She remembered standing here as a child, clutching coins she had saved from chores, staring through the window at the warm glow inside and dreaming of the pastries she could never afford.
And then she saw it—the old park.
It was almost exactly as she remembered it, save for the fresh snow blanketing the swings and slides. The elm tree she and Liam had once used as a secret meeting spot had been cut down long ago, leaving only a jagged stump that bore the faint outline of their carved initials. Kneeling beside it, she traced the letters with her gloved fingers.
"A + L"
A laugh escaped her despite herself. How long had it been since she had touched that spot? Ten years? More? She could still remember the day they had carved it: their hands shaking, eyes wide with the thrill of secrecy and the promise that some things would last forever.
"Hey, stranger."
Her head snapped up. Liam stood at the edge of the park, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, snowflakes melting in his hair. "Still visiting the old stump, huh?"
She laughed, trying to mask the sudden flutter in her chest. "Seems I can't escape it. Some things stick with you."
He approached, careful not to step too close. "Some things are hard to forget." His gaze lingered on her face, soft but intense, as if he were memorizing her again.
"I… I didn't expect to run into you so early," she said, adjusting her scarf. Her voice was steadier than she felt.
"Me neither," he admitted. "But I guess this is where fate puts us sometimes."
They fell into an easy rhythm as they walked through the park, their steps crunching softly in the snow. Yet beneath the casual conversation, a tension hummed—an unspoken question of why she had left, why she hadn't reached out, and whether the years apart had changed everything.
"I never realized how much I missed this place," Annalise said, her eyes scanning the park benches, the paths, the skeletal trees dusted with snow. "It looks… smaller, somehow. But also… warmer?"
"Funny how that happens," Liam replied. "Things shrink or grow depending on who's looking. But some parts… they stay exactly the same." His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the air between them felt electric.
They paused at the base of a hill where they had once sledded as children. Liam glanced at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "Do you remember that time we tried racing down this hill, and you ended up face-first in a snowbank?"
She rolled her eyes, a laugh escaping. "You pushed me!"
"No! You lost your balance!" he insisted, though the smile in his eyes betrayed him. "It was entirely your fault."
"Right," she said, shaking her head. "Entirely my fault." They laughed together, a sound that carried through the empty park, echoing off the snow-laden trees.
For a moment, the years apart seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them and the memories they shared. Yet, just as quickly, the weight of the past settled back on her shoulders. She remembered the day she had left, the misunderstanding that had seemed insurmountable, the guilt that had driven her away.
"I… Liam," she began hesitantly, "about the way I left…"
He raised a hand, stopping her before she could continue. "Annalise, it's okay. You were young, we were young. Things happen. We can't live in the past forever."
"I know," she said softly, though her chest tightened. "But some things… some words left unspoken… they linger."
He looked at her, his eyes serious now. "Then maybe it's time to speak them."
A silence fell between them, filled with the quiet sound of snow settling on branches. Annalise felt the stirrings of something she hadn't felt in years—hope, tentative but undeniable. Maybe she had returned not just to revisit the town, but to revisit him, to revisit what they had lost.
They walked in silence for a while, letting the memories wash over them, until Liam pointed to the little bridge over the frozen creek. "Remember this?" he asked. "We promised each other something here."
Annalise's breath caught. "We did."
"What was it again?" he asked, eyes twinkling.
"To always be there for each other. No matter what."
"And we…?"
"We lost track," she admitted.
"Maybe," he said slowly, "it's time to find our way back."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Annalise felt her heart thrum, a mix of fear and anticipation. Could they really find their way back after ten years? Could the bond they had forged in childhood withstand the weight of time and distance?
Before she could respond, a group of children ran past them, sleds clattering against the snow. One of them stumbled, and Liam instinctively reached out to steady the child. Annalise watched him, her chest swelling with warmth. The man before her—the one who had been her childhood friend, confidant, and secret crush—was still kind, still patient, still capable of seeing what mattered most.
"You never changed," she said softly, almost to herself.
He looked at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Neither did you. Some things… some people… they stay the same, no matter what."
The sun began to dip behind the hills, casting a golden glow over the town. Annalise felt a stirring of something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years—possibility. Maybe, just maybe, this winter would bring more than snow and cold. Maybe it would bring the chance to rebuild, to reconnect, to rediscover what had been lost.
As they walked back toward the town square, the lights from the shops reflecting off the snow, Annalise felt a tentative hope bloom inside her. She didn't know what the future held, or how long it would take for the walls around her heart to come down. But for the first time in a decade, she felt that perhaps, just perhaps, she was exactly where she was meant to be.