Peter stood near the large Christmas tree, his hands in his coat pockets. Snowflakes danced in the air and melted on his dark hair. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a flash of yellow.
He hadn’t seen her in years, but he knew he’d recognize her anywhere. Sally was unforgettable. The way her laughter would bubble up when she teased him, the way her nose would wrinkle when she read something serious… he remembered it all.
Each passing moment was like a thread of memory, tugging at his heart.
The crowds shifted and swirled, a colorful mix of tourists and locals caught up in the holiday excitement. Peter’s watch ticked away. Minutes turned into an hour. The yellow umbrella remained elusive, always just out of sight. Then, suddenly, someone called out from behind him.
The voice was small and hesitant. So soft that it could have been carried away by the winter wind. He turned around quickly, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
A little girl stood behind him, a yellow umbrella in her hands. Her brown curls framed her pale face, and her eyes were wide and strangely familiar as they met his.
“Are you Peter?” she asked, her voice even softer this time, as if afraid of shattering some special spell.
Peter crouched down to her level, his mind in a whirl of confusion. His hands, usually steady, trembled slightly as he looked into her eyes. “Yes, I’m Peter. Who are you?”
The girl bit her lip, her tiny fingers clutching the umbrella’s handle. “I’m Lila,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “Mama said to give you this.” She held out a crumpled envelope, its edges frayed as if it had been read a thousand times.
Peter’s breath hitched. The handwriting on the envelope was unmistakably Sally’s—a looping, messy scrawl he’d memorized from years of letters. His name was written in faded blue ink, the letters blurring at the corners.
He took the envelope with shaking hands. Inside was a single sheet of paper, yellowed and fragile. As he read, his vision swam:
*“Dear Peter,
If you’re reading this, it means I couldn’t keep my promise. I’m sorry.
Life took me in a direction I never expected. After college, I met someone. We married, had Lila… and then I got sick.
I thought of you every day. The yellow umbrella was always in my closet, waiting. But when the doctors said there wasn’t much time, I knew I had to tell Lila about you.
She’s ten now—curious, stubborn, and so full of light. She reminds me of you.
I want you to have this umbrella. And if you’re willing… maybe you can be a part of her life. She deserves to know the man who taught me what love is.
I’ll always be your Sally,
Under the yellow umbrella.”*
