He was an old man, with graying hair and eyes deep with memories. Every afternoon, like any other, he would glance at the old photo album where his wife, who had passed away far too soon, smiled on every page. Photo after photo, memory after memory – a woman alive in every moment of their life together: laughing on summer days, walking hand in hand through the streets of the city, preparing simple dinners together, yet filled with love
But today, as he touched a photo where she was smiling only at him, a wave of strong nostalgia washed over him. His heart beat slowly, every breath feeling hollow. He had made a vow back then – when she left: he would never marry again, he would never replace the love they had shared. Everything else was merely a shadow of what had been. And as he closed the album and placed it on the wooden table in his room bathed in the soft sunlight, he smiled bitterly: true love never dies, it simply remains alive in the memories that are never forgotten
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