A Future Or A Memory?

The snow fell in silence, blanketing the world in white. 

Rosalind stood on a narrow path, its edges swallowed by frost, its end hidden in mist. 

She didn't know how she got there—only that her feet kept moving, drawn by something… or someone. 

Beneath a silver-leafed willow, a woman stood, her figure framed in pale light. 

Her face remained obscured, but her presence felt hauntingly familiar—like a name once spoken in a dream. 

Then the voice came.

"He never loved you."

A woman's voice echoed through the air—soft as wind, yet sharp as a blade.

A breeze drifted through the space between them, making Rosalind falter—if only for a heartbeat.

Before she could make out the woman's face, another voice rose—her own.

Sudden. Detached. As if not spoken, but exhaled from the hollow of a forgotten wound.

"I gave up on that longing for love long ago."

Her heart tightened.

Perhaps… it was time to let go.