He Took Me to a Waterfall for Our Anniversary—But It Wasn’t Me He Brought It For (3 of 3)

His forehead touched mine. I wanted to believe him. And somehow, in that moment, I did.

This place had been part of his story. But so was I now. Not a replacement. Not a patch. Just me. Just us — uncertain, imperfect, but real.

That road trip wasn’t the fairy-tale anniversary I thought it was. It wasn’t wrapped in ribbons or tied neatly with closure. But it cracked something open — not just in him, but in me, too. We both stood among old memories and decided to make a new one.

And maybe that’s love — not about erasing the past, but choosing someone again, even when the past still lingers.

Even when the wildflowers go unnoticed.