STORY 3 :
FIELDS OF YESTERDAY
INTRO
In golden fields haunted by memory an old woman returns to mourn the love she lost.
Among the whispering wheat a familiar hat stirs the past awake.
And as sunset deepens grief softens into hope proving some love never truly fades.
STARTING
Fields of Yesterday
PART 1:
WHEN MEMORIES HURT
The fields lay quiet under the pale light of dawn stalks of golden wheat swaying like old ghosts.
Amara now gray haired and slow on her feet paused at the fence and let the wind sting her eyes.
It had been years since she last walked here since she lost Ishaan her husband whose laughter once filled these fields.
Now only silence greeted her heavy and sharp pressing against her chest until she could barely breathe
“You’d laugh at me” she whispered into the breeze “coming back after all this time”
The fields smelled the same but without him beside her every step felt emptier
PART 2:
A FAMILIAR HAT
Half hidden among the stalks stood an old scarecrow, crooked and weatherworn.
On its head sat a tattered hat faded brown with a tear in the brim that Amara herself had sewn decades ago
She stepped closer heart aching
“Ishaan… your old hat” she murmured fingertips brushing the straw shoulder
A gust of warm wind stirred the air. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw the scarecrow moveits head tilting gently toward her as though listening
PART 3: SUNSET AND SOFT
MIRACLES
As the sun dipped low painting the sky in honey and rose Amara sat on the earth resting her aching legs
The breeze grew warmer swirling around her whispering through the wheat.
Slowly the scarecrow’s shape blurred and then standing before her was Ishaan.
His hair silvered by time but eyes still soft still smiling.
“Took you long enough to come back” he teased gently voice warm as summer rain
Tears spilled down her cheeks but for the first time in years they felt sweet rather than bitter.
“I thought I’d forgotten how you sounded” she whispered
“I never left” he said kneeling beside her “Not really”
PART 4:
LOVE NEVER FADES
They spoke until the stars pricked the sky, about old summers small regrets and all the quiet moments that mattered most.
When dawn came Ishaan’s form faded back into straw and cloth but the warmth stayed in Amara’s chest
She rose, leaning on her cane a soft smile breaking through years of grief
“I’ll come back tomorrow” she promised
Behind her the fields shimmered gold in the morning sun alive with memory and love that even time could not steal……