I had a huge crush on a boy in school and gave him a paper star with our initials before moving away. Years later, I visited my old town and met his wife, Clara, at a café. She recognized me immediately and told me he still kept that star by their bed. Surprisingly, our conversation was warm and easy. She told me I had meant something to him, even if it was just a childhood crush.
A few days later, I ran into him—Micah. We caught up over coffee, reminiscing about school and the old town. Then he told me Clara had cancer. Suddenly, her thoughtful, gentle way of talking made sense. Over the next months, I spent time helping both of them—supporting Clara at workshops and treatments, sharing quiet moments, and learning from her perspective on love. She once told me love isn’t a straight line, but a circle, and people can stand inside it together.
Clara passed away, leaving me a silver star necklace with the note, “Keep the story going.” Micah and I didn’t become a couple, but we became real friends. Inspired by Clara, I started an art studio for kids, teaching them to fold paper stars, each one a reminder that small gestures of love can last a lifetime.
