Promise me you'll come back for me
Before understanding why some people feel like home, there was already something about Minho that I found impossible to lose.
—If reincarnation exists… find me.
I wasn’t sure why I said it.
The idea just appeared in my mind as I drew clumsy lines in the sand with the tip of my shoe.
Minho turned toward me from the swing.
—Reincarnation?
—To live again… I guess.
I shrugged, a little embarrassed.
Then I added, almost in a whisper:
—Even if you don’t remember me… I think I would still know it’s you.
Minho looked at me in silence for a few seconds.
And then he smiled.
Not a big or loud smile —
one of those that feel calm.
As if what I just said wasn’t strange.
As if, in some way, he had already decided it too.
The swing next to him moved gently with the wind.
Empty.
Waiting for me.
—Come —he said—. That’s your spot.
I walked over and sat down, my cold hands wrapped around the metal chains.
As we started to swing, something inside me settled effortlessly.
As if this rhythm had been waiting for us all along.
I didn’t know it then, but some encounters don’t begin on the day they happen…
they just continue.
Minho swung higher and let out a laugh that made half the park turn to look.
I watched him go up and down against the pale winter sky.
And I had a certainty so simple I didn’t even try to explain it:
if I ever lost him…
I would search for him in every life without thinking.
---
I don’t remember when I met Minho.
I only know he was already there before I even started speaking. Birthdays, holidays… everything felt different when he was around. Always special. Always… inexplicably my home.
He showed me what it meant to be home for someone else, even when I didn’t understand the word.
I always thought it was pathetic to cling to someone… until I clung to you.
But… that day changed everything…
That day I was with Minho, telling him about a strange dream I had.
Suddenly, he said:
—There’s a boy I like, and I want… to kiss… but he never stops talking —he said with obvious frustration.
I looked at him, confused, and could only murmur:
—You’ve thrown me off…!
And I kept talking as if nothing had happened.
He watched me calmly, with that patience he always had with me.
What I didn’t know was that while I focused on telling my dream, he had already confessed… and I hadn’t even noticed.
---
One day in the park, we were both sixteen.
We were looking at the snowy swings after a rough day, and he said to me:
—Relax… everything will be fine. I’m here.
---
—Years later—
It was my twenty-fourth birthday.
The sunlight came through the window, but I couldn’t feel anything.
I was waiting for Minho… but he never arrived.
Later, the news came like a silent blow: an accident.
A crash. He didn’t… he didn’t make it.
I sat among the unopened presents, my hands trembling.
The park, the swings, our shared laughter… everything felt so far away now.
I wanted to call him, to scream his name, but the phone stayed silent.
And for the first time, I understood that some encounters, no matter how destined, can break in an instant.
The following days I spent in the hospital, waiting for Minho to wake up, but he never did.
When his parents disconnected him, I cried oceans.
There I realized that his body still functioned… only thanks to machines.
---
At the funeral, as tears blurred my vision, I remembered our entire childhood.
The snow-covered swings, our laughter, the secrets only we shared… it all came back in a torrent that left me breathless.
Before this happened, I had already told my parents that I didn’t want to be hooked up to machines.
I didn’t want anything to keep me alive if he wasn’t there.
Now, seeing his lifeless body, it felt like the whole world was collapsing around me.
The air grew heavy.
Voices faded.
Even time seemed to stop.
I realized then that some losses are so great that the heart doesn’t know where to keep them.
My legs gave way.
Someone shouted my name, but the sound reached me muffled, as if from very far away.
I tried to breathe, I tried to stay standing… but my body no longer responded.
Everything went dark.
The last thing I managed to whisper was barely a thread of a voice:
—We will find each other again… always.
And so ended our first chapter —
not as a goodbye,
but as a promise that time wasn’t yet ready to break.
