Some encounters are destined to be mere passing glances. We cannot determine the duration of fate, just as we cannot stop the changing of seasons. The hands we once thought we would hold tight eventually let go at some crossroad, making even the farewell seem hasty. Memories stubbornly linger on the warmest fragments: under that dim yellow streetlamp at the corner, our shadows were stretched long, and our laughter scattered in the wind. Walking past there now, only desolate light shines on the empty street; though crowds come and go, your figure is nowhere to be found.

In the end, the connection between people is nothing more than a sudden, fleeting downpour. Even after a long time, it remains like rain streaks on glass, while longing is like a silent rain, falling quietly on every quiet night. The roads we walked together and the scenery we saw have all become the deepest etchings in my heart. Picking up a fallen leaf by chance, in a trance I seem to see your smile again, but when I reach out to touch it, I realize it was just a trick of light and shadow.

Perhaps life is just like this. Some people can only accompany you for a stretch of the journey, then quietly exit at some inadvertent moment, leaving behind only scattered memories. Like stars occasionally twinkling in the night sky, they remind me that you once truly illuminated my world. And I can only carry these fragments and move forward, occasionally looking back in the long river of time to whisper gently: so, we really have drifted apart.