I could hear him faintly, his voice melodic and sorrowful. Full of pain and love. I parted my cracked, dry lips and uttered his name: Beloved.
The fog lifted, dreary skies drifting away to reveal golden rays. His smile was as bright as the sun; his eyes were wet with apprehensive joy and unspoken apologies.
My forgiveness came in an embrace, tight and warm. We held each other so close it was impossible to tell her he ended and I began. Wasn’t that always true for us?
He rested our foreheads together, just as he had always done during our youth. A rush of memories surrounded around us, years and possibilities twirling and twisting about in a captivating dance.
This is how our story ends, his words echoed in my head.
No, Beloved, I answered. My lips met his in a tender kiss, sacred and full of promise. This is how our story begins.