Jace adjusted the lens of his camera, the early morning sun casting golden rays across the park. The light was perfect,soft, diffused, warm. He crouched low in the grass, his eyes scanning for the moment he always chased: unfiltered, unposed, real.
Then he saw her.
A young woman sat alone on a bench beneath an elm tree. Her honey-blonde curls spilled over her shoulders, catching flecks of sunlight like a halo. In her hand, she held a silver locket, staring at it with such intensity that the world seemed to blur around her. Her green eyes shimmered not with tears, but something heavier. Memory. Loss. He recognizes it when he sees it.
Click.
The shutter snapped before he could think twice.
The woman blinked, startled. Her gaze lifted and locked onto his, sharp and questioning.
Jace stood quickly, raising his hands moving towards her. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to.....well, I did....but not like that. I just... You looked like you were in a story."
Her brows pinched for a moment, then relaxed. "That's one way to describe grief."
Jace hesitated, his camera still in his hands. "I'm sorry for intruding....may I show you the photo?,I'll delete it if you want."
She studied him for a second. Then, with a small nod, she said, "Okay."
He turned the camera screen toward her. She leaned in, and her breath caught.
"You captured it," she whispered. "I don't even know how... but you did."
Jace smiled gently. "You were holding something important."
"My brother," she said quietly, touching the locket. "His name was Max. He passed away three years ago."
"I'm sorry," Jace said, his voice softer now. "I lost someone, too. My sister. Emma."
A moment of silence stretched between them not awkward, but sacred. She was stunned by the way it was easy for them to share something as heartbreaking as loss. She was surprised she even said something to this ..... stranger.
"I'm Amy," she said, finally.....breaking the silence.
"Jace."
They shook hands, and it felt like more than a greeting. It felt like recognition.
They talked for nearly an hour. About Max. About Emma. About the strange, twisting shapes of grief. Amy told him how writing helped her survive the quiet after Max was gone. Jace confessed how he found solace behind the camera lens, capturing the things he couldn't say out loud.
By the time they stood to leave, the shadows had shifted. The world had moved, but neither of them had noticed.
....
Days passed. Then weeks.
Jace couldn't stop thinking about her....the quiet strength in her voice, the way she cradled that locket like it held time itself. On a whim, he posted the photo on his photography blog. He titled it "Memory Keeper." Within days, the image went viral. Hundred of thousands of likes. Thousands of comments.
But one made his heart skip:
"Hey, stranger. Thank you for capturing that moment", it was Amy.
He grinned as he reacted to the comment and then texted privately.
"Anytime. Coffee sometime?"
"That would be nice" she texted back.
They met again in a small café nestled between the streets of Manhattan. Amy wore a soft gray sweater and the locket still around her neck. Jace brought his camera, though he didn't take a single photo that evening.
They talked about everything. Books, old movies, their favorite songs. Amy's eyes lit up when she described her current novel. Jace leaned in, genuinely curious.
"I always knew I loved literature but I started writing after Max passed," she admitted. "It helped me stay grounded like I was writing him into the future he never got."
Jace nodded. "Photography did the same for me. Emma was always the wild one. I try to capture what she would've loved."
Amy smiled. "you're keeping her memory alive too."
As the café closed, neither wanted the night to end.
It was so mesmerising and bewildering how these two individuals from opposite ends of the world are bonding over a shared understanding of grief. It was as if that day at the park was just waiting to happen.
They walked along the riverside, the city lights sparkling in the water. Amy kicked off her shoes,holding them in her hand letting the cool breeze dance over her toes.
Jace found it funny and knew right away that she was real,no sugar coating and she expresses her self come what any form of discomfort.
Jace glanced at her. "Can I see the locket again?"
She hesitated but only for a moment then handed it to him. His fingers brushed hers, warm and steady.
He opened it. A small photo of a young boy smiled back at him.
"Thank you," he said, voice low. "For sharing this with me."
Amy looked up, her green eyes wide and unguarded. "Thank you for seeing me."
As they stood beneath the stars, silence wrapped around them again this time comfortable, promising.
Jace walked her home. Outside her apartment building,he leaned close and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.
Amy's heart fluttered.
"Goodnight, Amy."
"Goodnight, Jace."
And just like that, the story began.