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But Zoran had been chasing shadows. He was young, restless, and convinced that "real life" was something that happened elsewhere, in bigger cities with louder music and faster people. He had treated her love like a steady heartbeat—something he relied on but never stopped to appreciate until it skipped.

It was the truth that bit the hardest. In the years since, he had met others. There were women who were more glamorous, women who laughed louder, and women who promised more. But none of them had that quiet, unshakable loyalty. None of them looked at him as if he were the only person in a crowded room. jasar_ahmedovski_ta_je_zena_volela_me

He looked at his phone, his thumb hovering over a contact name he hadn't dialed in three years. He knew it was too late. He had heard she moved away, perhaps started a family of her own. The woman who had loved him more than anyone ever would was gone, and he was the one who had opened the door for her to leave. But Zoran had been chasing shadows

Zoran sat at a corner table, his fingers tracing the rim of a glass he had long since emptied. In the background, the orchestra began the slow, haunting intro of a familiar melody. It was that song—the one that felt like a trial and a verdict all at once. It was the truth that bit the hardest