Both of them were present, albeit with their new families. They were acutely aware of each other. They had played this game in their heads many times before, one of them had. They could have looked into each other's eyes and exchanged a lifetime of stories. This is what they had always done. This is what had drawn them to each other. Stories.
The beginning was long removed from the present. It was a summer and an half from half a lifetime ago.Simple kindnesses were shared. There was always a shudder when things which did not make sense ended up happening. You wanted them to happen. You made them happen. Even though it did not seem that way, it was meant to be. Closest friends could not tell the difference. Even their own heart was not let on into the secret.
There was always the real world. There were always threads. From the past and the present, from near and from far. Thread which tugged and threads which pulled.
The real world finally caught up. It cut the lifetime back to its summer and a half frame.
When it finally happened, nothing actually had to happen. No one walked up to reassure anyone. It was not required. The smile said it all.
My attempt to sound like an Indian origin author. No theme easier than this one.