Gypsy hearts

The moment she had fantasized about for what felt like an eternity had finally arrived, yet Dahlia's mind was a barren landscape, devoid of the carefully crafted questions and tender declarations she had rehearsed. The sheer magnitude of her emotions had reduced her to a mere spectator, a statue frozen in time, as the world around her melted away.

Wilfred's rugged form, weathered from the trials of war, filled her vision, his piercing gaze burning with an intensity that seared her very soul. And then, as if the universe itself had conspired to shatter her fragile composure, he dismounted with a swiftness that left her breathless.

The space between them dissolved, his powerful hands encircling her waist like a vice, drawing her into a realm where time stood still. The warmth of his touch ignited a firestorm of emotions, threatening to consume her entire being.

In this moment, Dahlia's world had narrowed to a single, pulsing truth: Wilfred, her love, her heart, her everything, had returned to her. The dam of her resolve finally burst, unleashing a torrent of tears that cascaded down her cheeks like a deluge of unbridled jubilation . The droplets fell with the ferocity of a summer storm, each one a testament to the depth of her longing, the breadth of her love blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

And then, like a gentle breeze on a summer's day, his whispered words caressed her ear, sending shivers down her spine: "I'm back".The phrase, once a distant dream, now a tender reality, shattered the remnants of her composure.

With a fervour that bordered on desperation, Dahlia wrapped her tiny arms around him, holding him close as if the very fabric of existence depended on it. The comrades that came along with him witnessed an enchanting and tender moment which made them long for their family even more.

"Far away... Saw you...letter....Gone too long... Missed you" Dahlia's words tumbled out in fragmented whispers. Her voice, barely audible, somehow made Wilfred's eyes, filled with a deep understanding, locked onto hers, as if he understood those jumbled words . And then, in a moment that defied the passage of years, he spoke

"I missed you too."

Their lips met in a tender, soul-stirring kiss, a union that quenched the thirst of years apart. *ba- thump* The world around them melted away, leaving only the thrum of their hearts, beating in perfect harmony.

“Yeah, read some of them on my way to catch-up on the things I missed.”

"I wrote to you," Wilfred whispered, his breath dancing across her skin. "I told you I was coming home. Didn't you receive my letters?"

Dahlia's head shook, a gentle, despairing motion. "No," she whispered, her voice a mere sigh.

Wilfred's smile was a soft, triumphant thing. "I guess I arrived before my words did," he said, his eyes aglow with a love that had conquered time and distance.

But soon Dahlia's expression turned grave, her eyes clouding with a sense of urgency. She realised that Wilfred was still aware of something."Will, there’s a place we need to go right now," she urged in low and insistent voice.

Wilfred's brow furrowed, his mind still reeling from their reunion. "Right now? I've..." But seeing how serious she was Wilfred nodded, "Okay let's go". He bid his comarades farewell, and followed Dahlia through the swaying paddy fields, the golden light of day casting long shadows behind them.

As they walked, a sense of dread crept over Wilfred, like a shroud descending upon his soul. The air seemed to thicken, weighing him down.

And then, they arrived. The cemetery's solemn entrance loomed before them, like a gateway to the underworld. Dahlia led him to a weathered headstone, the name ‘Alfred’ etched into its surface like a cruel taunt.

“When?” “Last year” Wilfred's world crumbled beneath him. His father's grave. The truth hit him like a tidal wave, threatening to consume him whole. He felt Dahlia's hand on his shoulder, a fragile anchor in the tempest of his emotions.

"I'm so sorry, Will," Dahlia whispered. "I'm too late." his voice trembled

As she wrapped her arms around his broad chest, Wilfred facade crumbled, his body shuddering. He buried his face in the warmth of her chest, his tears soaking through her clothing like a confession.

Dahlia held him tight, her heart aching with a deep sorrow. She had seen him vulnerable only twice before, and now, as he wept for his father, she felt the weight of his grief like a physical blow.

"I never expected this," Wilfred gasped, his voice cracking like a fractured soul. "I tried to tell you, to prepare you... but my letters never reached you on time."

Dahlia held him closer and her tears mingling with his.In that moment, time itself seemed to bend and warp, the past and present colliding in a maelstrom of grief and regret.