He loves music, and she writes poetry. Together they create tunes that only they understand. Their friend L is always by their side — loyal, caring, and always there. But K never expected L to fall in love with Z. Until one night, L admitted it.
“I didn’t mean to, K… but I love her,” L whispered.
K chose friendship over love.
He quietly ended his relationship with Z, though he didn't tell her the real reason. Z, heartbroken, gradually learned to love L — not like the fire he felt for K, but a kind of love that was peaceful and steadfast. They got married, and K didn't attend.
Years passed, and their connection was lost.
K lived with a question in his heart — “what if…”. Until L passed away from cancer. At the funeral, Z read a poem he wrote when he was seventeen — about a woman with a musical eye and a lively laugh.
After the ceremony, K approached.
“You still remember,” he said softly.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Z replied.
They talked for a long time — about L, the past, and the words that were left unsaid.
“He knows,” Z said. “That you were my first loved.”
“Until now, I still love you,” whispered K.
They look different, their steps are slower, but their feelings haven't changed.
Now, there are no more obstacles.
Lesson: Sometimes, the right person comes at the wrong time. But if love is true, it will find a way — even if it takes sixty years.
