On prom night, under the glow of soft lights and the hum of violins, Peter made a heartfelt vow to Sally, his high school sweetheart. “Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I promise I’ll be there,” he said, his voice steady despite the impending goodbye. A decade later, Peter kept his promise, arriving at Times Square with hope and anticipation. But instead of Sally, he was met by a young girl clutching a yellow umbrella, delivering news that would forever alter his life.

The night of their prom was bittersweet, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words. Peter held Sally’s hands tightly, his thumbs tracing small circles over her knuckles as if to etch the memory of her touch into his heart. Tears streaked her cheeks, her smudged mascara a stark reminder of their looming farewell.

“I don’t want to leave,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Peter’s eyes glistened, though he fought to keep his composure. “I don’t want you to go either,” he admitted. “But your dreams are bigger than us, Sally. You’ve always wanted to study in Europe. I can’t hold you back.”

“But what about our dreams?” she asked, her voice breaking with emotion. “What about us?”

Peter pulled her closer, their foreheads nearly touching. “We’ll meet again,” he said with quiet determination. “If life separates us, promise me we’ll meet on Christmas Eve, ten years from now, at Times Square. You’ll be holding a yellow umbrella.”

Sally’s tearful smile broke through her sadness. “Even if we’re married or have kids?” she asked.

“Especially then,” Peter replied. “Because some connections transcend time.”

For years, they kept in touch through letters. But one day, Sally’s letters stopped, leaving Peter with unanswered questions and a lingering hope for their promised reunion.

On Christmas Eve, Times Square buzzed with holiday cheer. The massive Christmas tree sparkled, and snowflakes danced through the air. Peter stood near the tree, scanning the bustling crowd for a flash of yellow. His heart pounded as memories of Sally flooded his mind—the way she laughed, the scrunch of her nose when she read something serious. Time slipped away, but the yellow umbrella he was searching for never appeared.

Just as his hope began to waver, a small voice called out, “Are you Peter?”

Peter turned to see a little girl standing behind him, clutching a yellow umbrella. Her wide green eyes and brown curls were hauntingly familiar. “Yes, I’m Peter,” he said, his voice shaky. “Who are you?”

The girl hesitated, biting her lip in a way that struck a chord deep within him. “My name’s Betty,” she whispered. “She… she’s not coming.”

Peter’s heart sank. “What do you mean?” he asked, though he dreaded the answer.

“She’s not coming because she… she passed away two years ago,” Betty said, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her green eyes—the same shade of green he had fallen in love with a decade ago.

Peter’s world tilted. “Passed away?” he repeated, his voice barely audible. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

At that moment, an older couple approached. “Hello, Peter,” the man said gently. “I’m Felix, and this is my wife. We’re Sally’s parents. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Peter struggled to process their words. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked again, his voice cracking with anguish.

Felix spoke softly. “She didn’t want to burden you. When she found out she was pregnant with Betty, she thought you’d moved on. She didn’t want to hold you back.”

Betty reached for Peter’s hand. “She told me you loved her like she was the most precious thing in the world,” the little girl whispered.

Peter knelt, tears streaming down his face. “You’re my daughter?” he asked.

Betty nodded. “Mom said I look like you.”

Peter pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if trying to bridge the gap of lost years. “You do,” he murmured. “And you look like her too.”

Sally’s mother handed Peter a small, worn diary. “She wrote this for you,” she said softly.

Peter opened the diary with trembling hands. The pages were filled with Sally’s thoughts—her love for him, her dreams, her regrets. A photo slipped out: their prom night, young and full of hope. Tears blurred his vision as he read her final words, a promise that their love had endured despite everything.

In the months that followed, Peter worked tirelessly to bring Betty into his life. She moved into his home, her laughter filling the once-empty space. Together, they visited Sally’s grave, laying yellow roses on the snow-covered stone—a symbol of new beginnings.

“Your mom would be so proud of you,” Peter said, his arm around Betty.

“She’d be proud of you too,” Betty replied, her green eyes shining with love and hope.

As they walked away, Peter whispered, “I’ll never let you go.” And he never did, keeping his promise to the love that had shaped his life.