The Garden of New Beginnings"

The wind played among the charred branches, and the flames danced with an enigmatic grace, embracing the darkness. He stood alone, like a shadow given form. His frame was tall yet slightly bent forward, as if caught in a silent struggle—perhaps against distant memories, or a truth he refused to accept. 

The firelight flickered across his sun-kissed skin, casting shadows that waltzed over his sharp features, lending him an almost ethereal glow. But what drew attention most were his eyes—deep amber, like molten honey, holding stories left untold. They could be alluring, unraveling secrets with a single glance; they could pierce through lies, exposing the raw essence beneath; they could strip truth bare, leaving nothing concealed. 

His beloved had lost herself in those eyes countless times. Every time she looked into them, she felt as though she were drowning in a warm, endless sea of amber, caught between reality and dream. When excitement sparked in them, they gleamed like polished gold; when anger stirred, they darkened—like the sun sinking into the horizon, fierce and profound. But more than their beauty, it was the knowledge within them that set him apart. 

His pride was not of the bitter, icy kind—it was the quiet confidence born of years spent reading, learning, thinking. Every word he spoke was like a carefully cut gem, each syllable measured, each sentence carrying weight. Perhaps that was why, when his beloved spoke to him, she would sometimes lose her train of thought—caught in those amber depths, lost between his measured words, until nothing else mattered but the moment they shared. 

But now, in this moment, caught between the firelight and the night's abyss, those amber eyes were fixed on something that did exist. 

He was in love. In love with a girl who lived miles away. A girl he had seen only in a single photograph—a forgotten image among hundreds, stumbled upon by chance, yet destined to ensnare him without his knowing. 

The picture captured her standing by a quiet shore, behind a rusted fence that seemed to mark an invisible boundary between her and the vast, endless sea. The wind played in her hair, and her dark, doe-like eyes were fixed on a distant horizon. 

She wore a high school uniform—simple, unembellished. And yet, there was something in that simplicity that stirred the heart, something that made her unforgettable. Her skin was pale and luminous, as if bathed in the soft glow of dawn. But what haunted him most was not her eyes, nor her uniform, nor even the rusted fence that separated her from the ocean—it was the fire he imagined within her heart. 

Yes, he was in love with a girl he had never touched. A girl whose only trace in his life was an old, forgotten photograph. A girl he knew better than anyone. Because in his heart, in his dreams, in the flames that now flickered before him—she was alive. She was real.