He waited for her. Everyday for 6 years. She had promised that she would come back, one day she would come back. So everyday he had waited for her, believed in her promise. He had to believe that she would keep her promise, he had to believe that someone would, just one person wouldn't lie to him. He had been stabbed in the back so many times that, just once, just this once he would let himself trust someone. He justified the years of waiting by telling himself that she never gave a date and told him it would be awhile. So he kept his faith in her, not giving up on her promise.
It was one of those days, the ones that kept him up at night. Another one of his "friends" had lied to him, another one had stabbed him in the back. He took a sip on the brandy he was nursing, just another one of the things that he told himself kept him sane. The night sky was riddled with stars, at least thats what he told himself. The light pollution was to great to see much up past the trees. The life he lead was starting to wear on him, heck who was he kidding, his life had been wearing on him for years now and the only thing that kept him going was the realization that he didn't know how to do anything else. So at night, after he had come home alive, he would pour himself another drink and wait on the hill for her or the dawning sun, which ever came first. It was that night when his regime was changed.
She came in the same way she had left, quietly and without fanfare. A lone figure walking up the road, backpack over her shoulder, but this time her step was slower, the girlish excitement was gone. Life had worked her over in the same way it had done to him. She approached slowly, experience had taught her well. He stood up, took the last swig of his brandy and tossed the glass aside. She set her bag down and stood in front of him.
"You're back." He looked down at her.
"I told you I would." She looked up.
"I never doubted." He gathered her in his arms and sighed, for once, just this once, someone had come through.