That dance floor had become their entire universe—just the two of them, wrapped in a quiet embrace meant to defy time. It was the last waltz of their youth, sealed with a promise: ten years from now, no matter where life had led them—through joy, through sorrow—they would meet again.
“I don’t want to go,” Sally murmured, her voice catching as tears smudged the edges of her mascara. “What am I supposed to do without you?”
Peter held her tighter, his own heart cracking beneath the weight of the goodbye. “Sally, this has always been your dream—studying in Europe, chasing something bigger. I can’t be the reason you stay. You’re meant for something more, and I’d never forgive myself if I made your world smaller.”
He meant every word. And yet, deep down, he silently wished she’d change her mind. Just once. Just for him.
Pulling her closer to him while their fingers intertwined, Peter promised to always be there for her; for the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
“Peter, promise me you’ll never forget me. In ten years time, meet me at the Times Square.”
“If you get married by then, I’d be glad to hear how happy you are… no matter what, promise to meet me. I’ll be carrying a yellow umbrella.”
“I promise,” Peter said, squeezing her hand. “Ten years from now, on Christmas Eve, I’ll be there, waiting for the most beautiful girl with a yellow umbrella. I’ll be there.”
Their hearts beat in perfect harmony, two soulmates moving to the same silent rhythm. Though life was pulling them in different directions, they understood that not every goodbye is forever—some are just until we meet again.
In the years that followed, Sally and Peter exchanged letters—each one a lifeline, a fragile thread keeping their connection alive across oceans and time zones. But then, without warning, her letters stopped. The mailbox stayed empty, and Peter was left staring at the silence, wondering what had become of the woman who once held his heart so completely.
Still, no amount of time could dim his love for her. It didn’t weaken—it deepened. It matured, rooted itself deeper in his soul with each year that passed. He clung to the memory of her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and the promise they made under the glow of fading fairy lights on that dance floor.
As the ten-year mark approached, hope stirred within him like a long-dormant flame reigniting. The thought of seeing her again—just as they had planned—filled him with anticipation and a quiet kind of faith.
And when the day finally arrived, Peter stood in the middle of Times Square, his heart pounding with every passing second. He scanned the crowd, eyes searching.
Because he knew—he knew—Sally would keep her promise.
And she’d be holding a yellow umbrella.
Peter stood near the towering Christmas tree. His eyes gazed through the crowds, searching for a familiar face and a distinctive laugh that still echoed in his memories.
Minutes turned into an hour, but Peter didn’t get tired of waiting. He knew it was worth it.
Then, suddenly, he heard a tiny voice calling his name from behind.
He turned around and saw a little girl carrying a yellow umbrella. Her eyes wide and recognizable.
The girl bit her lip, a gesture so hauntingly familiar it stole his breath. Peter froze for a moment, and the girl’s umbrella trembled in her tiny hands.
“I’m Betty,” the girl said quietly, “and she’s not coming.”
“What do you mean? Who are you?” he asked, although he could feel he already knew the answer.
“I’m your daughter,” the girl said, as her green eyes filled with tears.
“My daughter?” Peter barely found the strength to ask. But before the girl could say another work, a man, tall and nicely dressed, and an elegant woman approached.
“Hi, Peter, we are happy to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you,” the woman said.
The man, with a sorrow on his face, said, “We are Sally’s parents.”
“But I don’t understand. Where is Sally? And why this girl claims to be my daughter?” Peter asked, fearing the answers.
It was then that the woman broke down in tears. “Peter, Sally’s gone. She died of cancer two years ago. She didn’t want you to know, because she didn’t want to burden you.”
Peter’s whole world crushed. His Sally was gone – the only woman he ever loved.
“This girl is your daughter. Sally knew your mom was very sick and she didn’t want to put any pressure on you. But she regretted not telling you that she was carrying your child.”
Peter was speechless. He experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. Grief settled in his heart, but at the same time, he felt a strange feeling of joy because he had a daughter, a part of Sally that was there to stay.
Sally’s dad handed Peter a diary. It was Sally’s. In it, she wrote about the promise she and Peter gave each other about meeting ten years later, and that’s how they learned he would be there, waiting for her.
Peter hugged his daughter. He held her tightly and promised to never let her go.
She was eager to share with him stories about her late mother, and he was thankful he was given a glimpse of what Sally’s life was like.
Bringing Betty to the States from France where she lived with her grandparents was a long and complex process, but eventually, she moved in with her father. They visited her grandparents twice a year, and Betty became Peter’s world.