– Laci! My son, are you ready yet? – his mother called out from the kitchen.

– Yes, mother, I’ll just check my suitcase one last time! – Laci replied, while wiping the dust off his silver belt buckle. He packed everything precisely, in military order: his military ID, a small photo of his parents, and of course… that package of letters he had received from Ági.

The young guy was barely over twenty. The weight of becoming a man was already weighing on his shoulders, but his eyes still held boyish hope. He and Ági had been dating for two years. The girl promised to wait for him until he was discharged.

– I’ll write to you every day – Ági said on the day of their farewell, when they stood at the train station, and Laci looked almost trembling at the train that separated them.

– I’ll write too – Laci replied, squeezing the girl’s hand in her palm, as if she never wanted to let go.

The train started moving. Ági waved, and Laci just stood by the window, trying to remember her every move. Her eyes, the strand of hair, how the wind caught it. Her lips, how she whispered: “I love you.”

The days were long in the military, but Laci wrote every night. She told me what the guard was like, what they cooked in the dining room, and how the boys teased each other in the barracks. But behind the lines was always the same: “I miss you.”

Ági replied. At least at first.

A letter came from her every week. In a long, fragrant envelope, decorated with a heart. Then every two weeks. Then… suddenly the letters disappeared.

– Maybe he’s sick – Laci consoled herself.

– Or he went to visit his grandparents. There is no post office in the mountains… – but these were more like excuses. The others from the company waved:

– Forget it, old man! A year is a long time… especially for a girl.

– Ági is not like that! – Laci snapped angrily. – She promised.

Then the day came. The demobilization. The final stop. Laci packed her things, put the last letter she had received from Ági in the inside pocket of her coat.

– She came months ago – she thought bitterly, but she still kept it.

Everything was crowded at the station. Parents, siblings, girls with flowers and tears. Laci’s eyes searched the crowd for a single face.

It wasn’t there.

The crowd slowly dispersed, the train whistle died down. Laci was left alone on the platform. The cold wind caught her coat.

– Maybe she’s late… – she muttered to herself.

And then he saw her. On the opposite platform. A woman was standing there… with a baby in her arms. The child was sleeping. The woman was looking at Laci.

It was Ági.

Laci couldn’t even walk.

Her heart stopped for a moment.

The girl’s eyes were dark, there was some inexplicable pain on her lips. She didn’t smile. She just looked at him… then she lowered her head and turned. She slowly walked out of the station.

Laci didn’t move. The world ceased to exist around her. The noise died down, the people flew away. Only one thought buzzed in her head:

“This… is impossible.”

Laci suddenly shook herself, as if she were waking up. She started after Ági. Her legs were shaking, but she summoned all her strength and shouted after her:

– Ági! Wait!

The girl stopped, but didn’t turn back. The child stirred in her arms, then dozed off again. Laci stopped a few steps away from her, as if afraid that one word would shatter the world into dust.

“You… are here,” she finally said quietly.

Ági slowly turned around, their eyes meeting. It had everything in it: surprise, pain, shame and… some deeply buried love.

“You’re back,” the girl whispered.

“Back. Yes. I thought we’d come home together,” Laci replied hoarsely.

Ági didn’t say anything. She just looked down at the baby. The little one moved, as if sensing her father’s presence. Something glinted in Laci’s eyes.

“Is this… mine?” she asked softly.

The girl didn’t answer right away. She could see that she was struggling. Then she shook her head.

“No,” she said simply. “My husband’s.”

Laci felt as if someone had thrown a large stone into her stomach. Her legs wobbled, but she didn’t fall. She just stood there like a shadow that the sunlight had forgotten to draw.

— Your husband? — she repeated in a hollow voice. — But… you said… you promised…

— I know what I promised. And I know what you promised too. I counted the minutes every day… at the beginning. But then… there came a day when I couldn’t take it anymore.

— How many letters have you received from me? — Laci interrupted, anger already trembling in her voice.

— Something came every day for a long time. Then suddenly… nothing.

— That can’t be! — the boy snapped. — I wrote every night! Every night! Maybe the post office… or someone put it aside, but I wrote!

Ági’s eyes filled with tears. — I thought you forgot. I waited for months. And then he came… he helped, he understood… I thought I had the right to happiness too.

“And are you happy?” Laci asked softly.

There was a long silence in response. Finally, the girl said only this:

“It doesn’t matter anymore what would have happened if… Now I’m here, in this life.”

Laci sat down on the edge of the platform. The wind played with her hair. Ági just looked at her for a while, then, hugging the baby, she said:

“The little boy’s name is Dani. And my husband turned out to be a good man too. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

“Me too,” Laci said, her voice barely above a whisper.

When the girl finally passed awayents, Laci sat on the platform for a long time. He took out the last letter that Ági had written at the beginning from his pocket. The paper had turned yellow, the ink stains had faded. At the end it read:

“I love you. I will wait for you.”

Laci laughed. It was a dry, bitter laugh. Then he stood up and just stared ahead for a while. The future was no longer what he had imagined.

But you have to live.

Days later, Laci was back at home with his parents. He carefully folded his military uniform and put it in the back of the closet. It was as if it were a piece of another life. Like a dream that ended too suddenly.

The city he had returned to was no longer the same. The trees rustled the same way, the houses creaked in the wind the same way, but something inside had broken for good.

Every day he went for a walk. Many times his path took him towards the train station, as if he hoped that time would turn back and Ági would still be there, waiting and smiling. But that never happened.

One afternoon, when he was bending down on the bank of the stream to pick up a pebble, someone spoke to him.

– Is that you, Laci?

He turned around. An old woman was standing behind him. Her back was slightly bent, but her eyes were strong. Her face was familiar, but he didn’t know where.

– Yes… it’s me. Excuse me, have we met before?

– I’m Ági’s mother – the woman said.

Laci’s heart skipped a beat.

– I know you met. I also know how you felt about each other. The whole town knew. But you don’t know the truth.

– What truth?

The woman slowly sat down on the bench next to him.

– Those letters you sent… Ági never received them. The man who later became her husband worked as a postman at the time. He knew that Ági was in love with you. And he also knew that if all your letters arrived, she wouldn’t have a chance. So…

– No… – Laci whispered.

– …so she hid them. I carried this secret for years. I’m old now, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore. My daughter thought you left me. The man wasn’t a bad person back then, but well… jealousy often doesn’t come out loud, it kills silently.

Laci just sat there, as if struck by lightning. Her fingers clenched into fists, her eyes filled with tears.

– And… Ági knows this?

– No. We never told her. The man later fell in love with her, changed, became honest, they started a family, and lived happily. But now he has cancer. Ági takes care of him day and night. And I… I just wanted you to know: it wasn’t your fault. Never yours.

Laci bowed her head. The woman placed her palm on his hand.

– What Ági felt for you was true. What you wrote to her was true too. Sometimes life writes the most beautiful stories… but it doesn’t finish them.

That evening Laci took out the old wooden box in which she kept the little things she had received from Ági. A small scarf, an old postcard, and even a blade of straw that they had once picked together in a wheat field.

And then, at the bottom of the box, she found a letter. She recognized Ági’s writing. She had never seen it before.

“Laci. I don’t know where you are, and whether you still think about me. But if you come back and find this letter, know that I have always loved you. Life may take you in a different direction, there may be someone else by my side. But the love you gave me… was meant for a lifetime.»

Laci slowly closed the letter. Beyond the window, the world slept peacefully. And for the first time in a long time, she finally laid her head on the pillow in peace.

Because now she knew: the heart has things that neither time, nor distance, nor another life can erase.