They stopped in front of a weathered blue heart-shaped lock.
Zamora touched it and smiled. “Ross, you remember this, right? We locked it here back then.”
“Of course, I remember,” he replied, gentle and patient. “I come here every year to tighten it. Zamora, I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”
He lowered his head and kissed her softly.
Zamora playfully pushed him away. “But didn’t you bring other women here every year?”
He chuckled, eyes full of affection.
“Don’t mind them. They’re just stand-ins. I just missed you so much that I needed a shadow.”
My feet froze. My whole body stiffened.
Eight years ago, Ross had brought me here to confess.
I had looked at that same blue lock with envy. “They must be happy. Maybe they even grow old together,” I said.
He wiped the sweat from my forehead and locked our silver lock beneath the blue one.
“Don’t be jealous of them. We’ll grow old together, too.”
Apparently, that blue lock… was never a stranger’s.
It was his past with Zamora.
All these years, we had come back here countless times and walked past both locks countless times.
I never once thought that the lock I’d envied for years held their memories.