Chapter: A Date Impossible to Forget

The calendar marked the day with a small red circle. Olivia didn't need to look to know: it was their anniversary. Or at least, it would have been.

The day passed quietly, with classes and distractions helping her not to think too much. But when night fell and the city went silent, the absence became sharper.

She made herself a cup of tea. Lit a small candle, like he used to when he wanted to create a "movie atmosphere" in their old apartment. And she took out the notebook.

She didn't cry. She didn't smile. She was in that middle place where nostalgia doesn't drown you, but doesn't let you breathe freely either.

She opened a blank page, held the pen in her left hand—like she always did when nervous—and wrote:

"Today would have been our anniversary. And I thought about ignoring it, pretending it was just another day. But I couldn't.
You were my truest love, Tom. The first to see me without me saying a word.
I'm not broken today. Just a little quieter.
I lit your favorite candle. The tea tastes the same. And even though you're not here physically, I felt I had to tell you.
Thank you for loving me so deeply. I still find you in the simplest things.
Happy... whatever this day means now."

She closed the notebook carefully, as if every word might vanish if not treated gently. She placed it on the table, blew out the candle, and went to bed.

She slept peacefully that night. Not because she had forgotten.

But because she had remembered... just enough.

That night, Olivia fell asleep with the notebook on her chest, hugging it as if its pages could calm the tremble in her soul. She didn't know if it was exhaustion, the scented candle, or the whisper of her thoughts, but the moment she closed her eyes, something changed.

She was no longer in her bed. She was in that little Italian restaurant where Tom had taken her for their last anniversary. The lighting was warm, the walls covered in old photographs, and that soft piano song he said "made his soul feel tender" played in the background.

In front of her, Tom.

Not a blurry image. Not a distant presence. It was him. His smile, his voice, his eyes full of that tenderness that could break and rebuild her all at once.

"Do you remember this night?" he asked, raising his glass of wine. "You said this place smelled like home."

"I meant it," she replied, her voice trembling.

"And then you looked at me like I was your safe place. I'll never forget that."

Olivia wasn't sure whether to say much or stay quiet to avoid breaking the moment. But her eyes filled with tears.

"Tom... am I dreaming?"

He smiled.

"Yes. But that doesn't make this any less real. What you felt, what we lived... that's forever, Olivia."

They stayed silent for a few seconds, just looking at each other. He reached across the table and held her hand, tracing small circles on her skin with his thumb like he always used to.

"Why this dream now?" she asked.

"Because I didn't want you to feel alone today," Tom said softly. "This was our last anniversary, but it was also one of the days you made me happiest. I wanted to give a little of that back to you."

Olivia smiled through her tears.

"I always knew you'd find a way to come back."

Tom stood up, came around the table, and hugged her tightly. His voice reached her ear like a whisper:

"Where there is true love, there is never goodbye."

And then, slowly, the restaurant began to fade. The music quieted. The scent of wine and pasta was replaced by the tea in her bedroom.

She woke with her heart beating gently, her cheeks damp. The notebook still rested on her chest.

She didn't write anything that night.

She didn't need to.

Tom had done it for her, once again.