Emma
I traced the carved heart with my finger, feeling the rough wood beneath my touch. T + E. Just two letters, a heart and a star, but somehow it made everything feel safer, like a little pocket of the world belonged only to us.
Tommy's hand still held mine, his grip gentle, but steady; and I let myself lean into it, letting the warmth seep through the chill in the air. The woods around us hummed softly, the only witnesses to our quiet rebellion against everything that threatened to pull us apart.
"I like it," I whispered, my voice barely above the rustle of leaves. "It feels… permanent."
He smiled, a little shy, like he wasn't sure he had the right to be happy.
"Permanent." He agreed.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting the moment stretch out. The weight of the coming days, the fear of losing everything, even the chaos waiting at home, seemed far away, pressed back by the simplicity of this — the two of us, our initials etched into a tree, the quiet of the woods surrounding us.
We stayed there a long while, just holding each other, breathing, letting the sun dip lower, painting the clearing gold. The picnic forgotten beside us, the laughter and worries of the world kept at bay.
It was ours. And for now, that was enough.
Tommy leaned back on his elbows, watching me with that steady gaze that made me feel like he saw right through me.
"After school… what do you want to do?" He asked me quietly.
I shrugged, twisting a loose thread on the edge of the blanket. "I don't know. I'll probably just get a job in town. Shop work, maybe. Someone has to help my parents with money. People don't have big dreams where I'm from."
He frowned, like he wanted to argue, but I pushed a smile onto my face before he could.
"I already know what you'll do. Law school. Your dad's firm. You've got your whole life mapped out."
His expression softened, but there was something troubled in it. His voice almost a whisper,
"I don't want to be away from you, Emma."
My chest tightened and I looked away, pretending to fuss with the food.
"Don't be ridiculous. You can't give up on that. Not for me. Not for anyone. It's an opportunity people would kill for."
He sat up, his knee brushing mine.
"I don't care about the firm, or the plans, or any of it, if it means losing you."
The warmth in his voice nearly undid me, but I forced myself to stay steady. "Tommy… we'll find each other, if it's meant to be. That's what people always say, isn't it? 'If it's meant to be.'"
His hand slid over mine, fingers curling tight like he was anchoring himself and he pulled me onto his lap.
"Then let's make sure it is. I'll write you a letter every week. Like the soldiers did in the war, writing to their girls back home."
I laughed, though my throat was tight. "You're not going to war."
He grinned, boyish and sure. "It'll feel like it without you near."
The woods pressed quiet around us, our joined hands and bodies pressed close, the only things that felt real.
His words clung to me, warm and heavy in my chest. He wasn't joking. Not really.
Tommy's eyes searched mine, earnest in a way that made it impossible to look away. "Promise me you'll write back. Every week. Even if it's just a few lines. I don't care what you say, I just… I need to know you're out there, still thinking of me."
My lips parted, and for a moment I couldn't find my voice. "You really think letters will make a difference?"
"I know they will," he said firmly. "Because when I'm reading them, it'll feel like you're with me."
Something inside me softened, giving way. The boy holding me so close wasn't the polished son of a lawyer or the heir to a family name. He was just Tommy, looking at me like I was the most important thing in the world.
I squeezed his hand. "Fine. I'll write. But only if you promise yours won't be all full of fancy words from law books."
That crooked grin of his lit up his whole face. "Deal. No legal jargon. Just me. And you."
I shook my head, smiling despite the ache building in my chest. "You're ridiculous."
"Maybe," he said softly, putting his hands around my waist. "But I mean it, Emma. Letters, every week, until we see each other again. However long it takes."
I swallowed hard, tucking the moment into the part of me I knew would need it later, when everything felt unbearable.
"Alright. Letters, then."
For a long while we just sat like that, the woods whispering around us. And though the future pressed close and uncertain, right then it felt like we'd carved something permanent into the world — something only we could touch.
Tommy
Her promise still echoed between us, fragile and bright. Her eyes were wide, shining with something that felt both brand-new and ancient at once, like she was giving me a piece of herself she'd never offered before.
I wanted to bottle the moment; the low hum of the woods, the smell of trees and damp earth, the scratch of the carving under my fingertips — and keep it with me for when everything became too loud. I wanted to hold onto the way her voice trembled slightly when she said "alright," as though she wasn't sure either of us could keep what we were promising, but still wanted to try.
I sat back a little, drawing a slow breath, trying to look calm even as something tightened deep in my chest.
I'd always been told my life was mapped out. Good schools. Law degree. My grandfather's firm. A future of clean-cut certainty. But nothing about Emma fit into that world neatly. And yet, sitting here with her, it felt like I'd found something truer than any plan.
She didn't even know the half of it; how often I'd thought about throwing it all away, just to stay near her. How, every time she looked away, like she didn't quite believe she mattered, it lit a fire under my ribs.
She thought she didn't have big dreams. But I did. And they all had her at the centre.
I glanced at her now, fiddling with a thread on the blanket like it might unravel her nerves. She didn't see how strong and amazing she was. She didn't see the way people gravitated toward her without her even trying. She thought she was ordinary, when she was the only thing in my life that had ever felt extraordinary.
The promise of letters sat between us like a lifeline. It wasn't enough. It couldn't ever be. But it was what I had to give. And I swore to myself, as the light shifted gold around us, that no matter what came, I would keep my word — and find my way back to her.