The mall was bustling that afternoon. The scent of fresh pastries, the chatter of shoppers, and the faint hum of music created a world full of noise and motion. Mia didn't notice any of it. She was running—running from the frustration of her stepmother's scolding, running from the weight of expectations that felt too heavy on her sixteen-year-old shoulders.
She rounded a corner, her bag bouncing against her side, and didn't see the young man coming from the opposite direction.
"Watch where you're going!" he snapped, stepping back just in time to avoid crashing into her.
"I—I'm sorry!" Mia stumbled, looking up. And then she froze.
His eyes. Those sharp, dark eyes. There was something familiar in them, something that made her heart flutter for a moment. But the expression on his face—the coldness, the irritation—was not what she expected.
"I said, watch it!" he barked, and Mia flinched, hurt by the harshness in his voice.
"I did, okay? Don't yell at me!" she shot back, her tone sharper than she intended. But inside, confusion churned. Why does he feel… wrong?
He looked at her with a mixture of disgust and impatience, as if he had never seen her before and didn't want to.
"Do I know you?" he asked, his voice low but cutting.
Mia froze again. Do you know me? Her heart twisted. The boy before her, the boy who had promised to return for her when they were children, had no memory of her.
"I… I think you do," she murmured, trying to push past the confusion and disbelief. "I'm Mia…"
He stared at her blankly, his jaw tight. "Mia?" he repeated, as though the name tasted strange on his tongue. Then he shook his head, frustration etched across his face. "Look, I don't know what game you're playing, but leave me alone."
Mia's chest ached. Her throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. How can he not remember? She opened her mouth to speak, but he had already turned and walked away, his strides confident, angry, and detached.
She wanted to run after him, grab his arm, shake him until he remembered. But the mall was crowded, and he disappeared into the crowd before she could move.
Mia sank onto a nearby bench, trembling. Her heart felt like it had been wrenched from her chest. The boy she had loved, the boy she had waited for all these years, had returned—but he was a stranger. A stranger who sneered at her and called her annoying.
She tried to remind herself to stay calm, to think rationally. Maybe he was just stressed, or maybe he was having a bad day. But deep down, she knew it wasn't that simple.
That evening, she replayed the encounter in her mind over and over. Every flicker of recognition—or lack thereof—stung like ice. She remembered the small boy who had promised her the world, the one she had held dear in her heart all these years. And now, he was gone, replaced by a bitter, angry young man who didn't even know her name.
The next day at school, Mia kept glancing around, hoping—hoping—that she might see him again, that maybe, somehow, he would remember. But the mall encounter had changed something. There was no warmth in his gaze, no trace of childhood friendship. Just the coldness of someone she no longer knew.
She clenched her fists, swallowing back tears. It was the first time she realized that sometimes, the past doesn't come back—even when you wait for it with all your heart. And sometimes, the person you've loved your whole life can walk right past you without a single flicker of recognition.
Mia left the school that day, silent, her chest tight with sorrow. And in the back of her mind, one thought refused to let go: He's here, and yet… he's not mine anymore.