Before the world was swallowed by war, there was only peace — and in that peace lived two hearts that beat as one. Lena grew up in a small, quiet village where the air smelled of wheat and wildflowers, and laughter danced like wind through the fields. Eli lived just across the river, the blacksmith’s son with strong hands and a gentle smile. Their paths had crossed since childhood — in games, in glances, in the simple comfort of growing up side by side. But it wasn’t until they stood beneath the great oak tree on the edge of town that they realized what their friendship had become.

It was the summer before the war. The sun dipped low, turning the sky gold, and Eli had carved their names into the bark of the old oak: Eli + Lena, Forever. Lena laughed, pretending to scold him for ruining the tree, but her heart fluttered when he said softly, “Now it knows our promise too.”

“What promise?” she asked, tilting her head.

“That one day,” Eli said, brushing the dirt from his hands, “I’ll marry you here. Beneath this tree.”

Lena’s cheeks turned crimson. “You’re sure?” she asked. “What if the world changes?”

Eli smiled, his eyes gleaming with quiet certainty. “Then I’ll still find you — no matter how much it changes.”

For a while, that was enough. They lived in days painted with laughter and nights filled with whispered dreams. They talked about building a home near the hills, about raising children who would run barefoot through the fields. To them, forever seemed so close, so certain, so simple.

But forever ended the moment the war began.

The letters came quickly — the summons for young men to fight, the tears of mothers, the goodbyes too heavy to bear. Eli had no choice. With trembling hands and a heart torn in two, he promised her one last time.

“When the war is over, I’ll come back for you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Wait for me by the oak tree.”

Lena tried to be brave. She smiled through her tears, clutching the small ribbon he tied around her wrist — a piece of his uniform. “I’ll wait,” she whispered. “No matter how long.”

Then he was gone.

Seasons passed. The laughter of the village was replaced by silence, the fields by ashes, and the world that once seemed endless now felt unbearably small. Lena’s days became a quiet ache — spent reading his old letters, counting the sunsets, whispering prayers beneath the oak.

Rumors came of battles won and lost, of soldiers returning home broken, changed. Still, she waited. Still, she believed.

Because love, she told herself, cannot die — it only forgets for a while.

And when the war finally ended, and the stranger in the torn uniform appeared in town, she felt her heart stop.

He had returned.

But love, too, sometimes returns without its memories.

(I FEEL BAD FOR THEM HU HU HU HU. BUT ITS FOR THE PLOT) -lycxen