König — The Night We Met

The box was full of dust; it had been hidden at the back of the wardrobe for years. Years without being opened, years without König having the courage to look inside.

However, that night something was different, perhaps it was the rain hitting the windows, perhaps it was the silence of a house that was too empty, or perhaps he was simply tired of pretending that he had moved on.

He sat down on the floor and slowly opened the box. Inside, everything was exactly the same.

The photographs, the letters, the movie tickets, the dried flowers and above all... The wedding invitations, the very invitations that were never used, her fingers ran over the yellowed paper.

I could still remember the excitement with which they had chosen them together, I could still remember your smile.

I could still remember the future they had planned, a future that never came.

König closed his eyes and for a moment he was in his twenties again, he heard your laughter again, he imagined the life they could have had.

But when she opened her eyes, reality was still there, cold, cruel, and empty.

Then something impossible happened, her phone rang, an incoming call, an unknown number, normally she would have ignored it.

But something in his chest tightened, something he couldn't explain, and with trembling hands he answered.

King: Hello?

Silence.

A long, heavy silence followed, until a voice spoke on the other end of the line. A voice I hadn't heard in years. Your voice, and for the first time since the night you disappeared...