The Promise That We Made 2.8k
Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x Female Reader
Synopsis: Yn knew what she wanted even when she was just a child, and she never forgot it even after all these years; she wanted Sophia Laforteza to be hers.
Content: fluff, slow burn, childhood sweethearts (??) to lovers,
A/n: I suggest you listen to "Can't help falling inlove" by Elvis Presley while reading this, pure masterpiece when you do it trust me
At five years old, most children's minds were filled with toys, cartoons, silly games, and little dreams that changed with every passing day.
But not you.
You were different.
At an age when most children were still figuring out what they wanted to be when they grew up, you had already decided on something far more important—or at least, what felt important to your five-year-old self.
You had a dream.
A wonderfully silly, innocent little dream that anyone older might have laughed at.
You wanted to marry Sophia Laforteza, the prettiest girl in your kindergarten class.
It wasn't because of her soft little dresses, nor because she always let her classmates borrow her colorful crayons, just as her mother had taught her that sharing was caring.
No.
It wasn't any of those things.
You liked her for something much simpler.
There were moments like that afternoon in the classroom, when you were dancing without a care in the world. You accidentally scraped yourself against one of the tables and, before anyone else could react, you burst into tears.
Sophia was the first one who noticed.
She quietly walked over, knelt beside you, and gently placed a little cartoon bandage over the scrape. Then, with that warm little smile of hers, she said, “There, all fixed up!”
It was such a small moment—one that probably meant nothing to anyone else. But to your five-year-old self, it was everything.
One afternoon, while the two of you were playing tag outside, your teacher handed each of you a little toy ring.
You stared at the tiny ring in your palm for a moment before an idea suddenly came to you.
Without a second thought, you ran toward Sophia and held out the ring with both hands, mimicking the way you had seen people propose in movies.
“Marry me!” you declared dramatically.
The entire class burst into laughter.
Your confidence disappeared almost instantly. You lowered your head, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you realized just how silly you must have looked.
But Sophia didn't laugh.
She simply stood there, blinking at you as if she were trying to understand your very serious little question.
Then, without saying a word, she gently took the toy ring from your hand and slipped it onto her tiny finger.
“Okay,” she said.
And then she smiled.
It was the softest smile you had ever seen.
Slowly, you lifted your head, your eyes widening in disbelief.
“Promise?”
Sophia held out her little finger.
“Pinky promise.”
You hooked your pinky around hers, sealing a promise neither of you were old enough to understand.
Neither of you truly knew what marriage meant.
But at that moment, none of that mattered.
You had Sophia.
And Sophia had you.
For two five-year-olds, that was enough.
Years passed.
Kindergarten became a distant memory, as with most promises made by children.
Or at least, you thought it did.
You grew older. Life became busier. New classmates came, new friends were made, and the two of you slowly drifted into separate corners of the world.
The conversations became fewer.
The laughter became memories.
And eventually, you barely knew each other's lives anymore.
It was strange how someone who had once been such a big part of your little world could slowly become a stranger.
Or so you thought.
Just because you've both forgotten the promise, perhaps your heart hadn't.
And just when you had convinced yourself that Sophia Laforteza was nothing more than a name from a childhood you had long since outgrown, life had a funny way of bringing old stories back around.
Years later, fate placed the two of you in the same room again.
And this time, you weren't five anymore.
It was a small reunion of your old kindergarten class, one of those occasional gatherings where everyone came together to catch up, reminisce, and see how much each other had changed over the years.
And then, across the room, you found yourself looking into those familiar eyes again—the same eyes you hadn't seen in years, yet somehow remembered.
Sophia was here; she stood at the other side of the room.
She was much older now, more mature, and undeniably different from the little girl you remembered.
Yet, somehow, beneath all those years of growing up, you could still see glimpses of that bubbly, soft-hearted kid—the same girl you had once had a little crush on when you were both children.
“Hey, Sophia. It’s good to see you again,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness you couldn't quite hide.
“Hey,” Sophia replied, giving you a small smile.
And there it was again.
That same soft, familiar smile you remembered from all those years ago. Time had changed her in so many ways—she was older, more mature, no longer the little girl you used to chase around the classroom.
But that smile?
It hadn't changed at all.
For a fleeting moment, you were five again, standing in a classroom with a toy ring in your hand and a silly little promise in your heart.
The two of you spent the night catching up, talking about everything that had happened over the years and reminiscing about the days when life had been much simpler.
You laughed about the silly things you used to do, teased each other about embarrassing little moments, and brought up memories you hadn't thought about in years.
It felt strangely familiar—like all those years apart had somehow disappeared, if only for a little while.
For a moment, you were both children again, sitting together in a classroom, laughing over things that only the two of you seemed to remember.
And as the night was ending, old classmates were now saying goodbye to each other.
You were getting ready to say goodbye to Sophia again, feeling disappointed that this might be the only time you'd see her again.
“Do you perhaps want to meet again? It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, after all,” Sophia said.
You noticed the slight hesitation in her voice, the way her fingers fidgeted almost unconsciously as she waited for your answer. There was something almost familiar about it—like the shy little girl you remembered was still there beneath the person she had grown into.
You smiled.
“Of course. I’d love to catch up with you more.”
Sophia's expression softened, and that familiar smile returned to her face.
“Then it's a promise?”
You let out a quiet laugh.
“Promise.”
It took a while for either of you to make a move again. You weren't quite sure why, but there was an unspoken hesitation between you—like you were both nervous about saying the wrong thing or taking a step that might change the comfortable familiarity you'd just found again.
You had spent the afternoon laughing about the past, remembering the little things you'd almost forgotten. Yet, when it came time to actually reach out again, suddenly, you weren't sure how.
Eventually, you decided that enough was enough.
You decided to make a move.
You picked up your phone and started typing.
Hey Sophia, it's me, Y/n.
Nope. Too formal.
You deleted it.
You tried again.
Hey Soph, it's Y/n.
Too casual. She might think you're getting comfortable already.
You stared at the screen for a while, your thumb hovering over the keyboard as you overthought every possible way the message could go wrong.
After a long thirty minutes or so, you finally decided to stop thinking about it and just trust your gut.
You typed something simple.
It's Y/n, you free?
You stared at the message for a few seconds before finally hitting send.
The moment you did, you locked your phone and tossed it aside, already cringing at your own embarrassing attempt to start a conversation.
You told yourself not to expect a reply anytime soon.
After all, it had been years since you'd last spoken like this.
But not even a moment after you closed your phone, the screen lit up with a notification.
Your heart skipped.
Slowly, you reached for it.
Sophia had replied.
Was she waiting? You wondered.
Had she been waiting for you to text her all this time?
You quickly shook the thought away, pulling yourself back to reality. Still, you couldn't stop the small nervousness that settled in as you picked up your phone and opened the message.
Her reply was waiting for you
I actually am. Why? Are you gonna take me out?
You couldn't help but smile.
Almost laugh.
You could practically hear the teasing in her words, and somehow, it felt familiar—like the same playful girl from your childhood was still there, hiding behind the screen.
You continued talking for the rest of the night.
What started as a simple conversation slowly stretched into hours of catching up, laughing about old memories, and talking about things that had happened since you last saw each other. Somewhere along the way, the two of you agreed to meet again—to properly catch up, as if the few hours you had spent together at the reunion simply weren't enough.
So you met for coffee.
You thought it would be a one-time thing.
Just two old childhood friends reconnecting after years apart.
But, oh boy, were you wrong.
There was another coffee the next week.
Then another.
And another.
Before you even realized it, those occasional meet-ups had quietly turned into a routine.
Once or twice a week, you'd find yourselves sitting across from each other with a cup of coffee between you. Sometimes, if you were both free, it would even happen three times a week.
You talked about everything.
School. Work. Childhood. Things you liked. Things you hated. The most random thoughts that somehow never felt random when you were telling them to each other.
And somehow, the conversations never seemed to run out.
It became easy again.
Almost like when you were children.
Only now, you were older and the things you talked about had grown with you.
Neither of you called it anything.
You simply kept meeting.
Again and again.
And somewhere between all those cups of coffee and countless conversations, seeing Sophia stopped feeling like something you had planned.
It simply became part of your week.
Part of your life.
Something you quietly looked forward to.
But between all those cups of coffee and late conversations, you had started falling for the girl you'd once known as your childhood crush.
And perhaps Sophia felt it as well.
Neither of you noticed it at first.
It happened in little ways.
Those coffee days became more than coffee, the conversation turned into something else; not weird, but charged with tension, good tension.
Sometimes, you'd catch yourself looking at her while she talked, listening to her laugh, and wondering if she felt it too.
Neither of you said it aloud.
Maybe you were both afraid of what it would mean.
After all, you had only just found each other again. You didn't want to rush something that had taken years to return.
Then, old memories began to resurface.
The classroom.
The moments when you'd always find a way to be close to her.
The crayons she used to let everyone borrow.
The little cartoon bandage she had once placed over your scraped knee.
Something you hadn't thought about in years.
A tiny toy ring.
The very thing a five-year-old you held in front of Sophia, in front of her, to marry her as if it was the most serious question a child could ask.
"Marry me!"
You remembered the laughter of your classmates.
Your embarrassment.
And then you remembered Sophia.
She hadn't laughed.
Instead, she had taken the little ring from your hand, slipped it onto her finger, and smiled.
"Okay."
Then came the little pinky promise.
The memory came back so suddenly that you almost forgot where you were. You looked at her.
Sophia caught you staring.
“What?” she asked, smiling.
You shook your head.
“Nothing.”
But it wasn't nothing.
Because for the first time in years, you remembered the promise.
And somewhere deep inside, you wondered if she remembered it too.
Maybe that childhood promise hadn't disappeared after all.
Maybe it had simply been waiting for the two of you to find your way back to each other.
Until one evening, Sophia suddenly texted you, asking you to meet her.
You felt nervous, of course. It was so sudden.
Did she realize you had feelings for her? Was she going to tell you that she didn't feel the same way?
Your mind couldn't help but think of every possibility, but you pushed the thoughts aside and went anyway.
As soon as you arrived, you realized where you were.
The same old playground from your kindergarten days.
And there she was, sitting on the swings, slowly pushing herself back and forth.
She seemed... nervous. Tense, even.
You slowly walked toward her, feeling your own nerves growing with every step.
“Y/n.”
Sophia looked up, fidgeting with her hands.
“I think...” She paused, taking a breath. “I like you.”
You froze.
For a moment, you couldn't believe what you'd heard.
Sophia seemed to mistake your silence for rejection. Her expression fell, and she quickly stood up, trying to walk away from the situation she'd gotten herself into.
You hurriedly ran towards her and stopped her from walking away.
"Why are you walking away?"
"Because this was a mistake. I mistook your kindness and thought you liked me as well—"
"I do like you, silly."
Sophia's eyes widened, almost as if she had forgotten how to move.
“You do?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying a hint of disbelief, as though she wasn't quite sure she could believe what she'd just heard.
You smiled, trying to ease the sudden weight of the moment.
“Though, I thought all those coffee dates already counted.”
You joked lightly.
For a second, Sophia simply stared at you.
Then, slowly, that familiar smile returned to her face.
“You're unbelievable,” she murmured, a quiet laugh escaping her.
“What?” you asked, pretending to be confused.
“You really had to joke about it?”
You smiled.
“I was trying to make you less nervous.”
“I wasn't nervous.”
“You were practically shaking.”
“I was not.”
You both laughed, and somehow, the heaviness of the moment began to disappear.
But beneath the laughter, something had changed.
There was no more pretending that the coffee dates were simply coffee dates.
No more wondering whether the lingering looks meant anything.
You both knew now.
And strangely, it didn't feel frightening.
It felt familiar.
Some time has passed, and now you two have just gotten married.
It wasn't an extravagant wedding, just with friends and family around you as you sealed your fate with each other.
As the reception was ongoing, you suddenly glanced down at your hands, looking at the ring that sealed you with Sophia.
“Do you remember?”
Sophia tilted her head.
“Remember what?”
You hesitated, smiling to yourself.
“When we were kids.”
Something about the way you said it made an old memory surface.
A classroom.
A tiny toy ring.
Your five-year-old self holding it out with complete confidence.
"Marry me!"
She couldn't help but laugh softly.
“The ring?”
You nodded.
“And the promise.”
She looked at you for a moment.
“Pinky promise?”
You smiled.
“Pinky promise.”
Sophia reached into her bag and pulled something out. She held it between her fingers before turning it toward you.
“You mean this?”
You looked down.
Your breath caught.
An old toy ring.
The same little ring from all those years ago.
“You—you kept it?”
Your voice came out barely above a whisper. You hadn't even realized your eyes were beginning to fill with tears.
Sophia gave you a small smile.
“Of course I did.”
She looked down at the ring, turning it gently between her fingers.
“You promised you'd marry me, remember?”
You stared at it for a moment, almost afraid that looking away would make it disappear.
“I thought you'd forgotten.”
Sophia shook her head.
“I remembered.”
Two simple words.
Yet somehow, they made all those years feel strangely close.
The classroom.
The laughter.
Two little fingers locked together.
A promise neither of you understood when you made it.
And now, after all this time, she was standing in front of you with the very same ring.
You smiled through the tears gathering in your eyes.
“Seems like you took that promise more seriously than I did.”
Sophia laughed softly.
“Maybe I did.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
You simply stood there beneath the quiet evening sky, holding onto something that had somehow survived all those years.
Maybe some promises were never meant to be forgotten.
Maybe some people simply needed time to find their way back to each other.
And maybe, after all those years, your little childhood promise wasn't the end of a story.
Maybe it was finally the beginning.
A/n: whewww, writing debut yeheyy. Honestly this was the most fun thing I've done recently—it's been a while since I wrote something like this, yeah still a bit rusty again but I'm proud of this work.
