Bima stood on the porch of his modest home, observing the world with a quiet appreciation. His eyes lingered on the fields, where he and his beloved Laila spent countless hours toiling side by side. He could almost hear her laughter echoing in the air, as if she were still there beside him.

Bima wandered to the tree, a place where he and Laila once shared dreams and stories. He settled against its sturdy trunk, closing his eyes to recall the cherished moments. Laila had always loved this spot, calling it their sanctuary amidst the chaos of life. "Remember our first harvest?" he murmured to the wind, picturing her radiant smile.

Bima smiled softly, his heart swelling with the memory of Laila's gentle touch as she tended to the plants. Her voice seemed to float around him, a reminder of her unwavering love. "We promised to nurture each other like we do these fields," he whispered, a vow unbroken by time.

Bima felt the weight of loss bearing down on him, the absence of Laila an ache that never faded. He recalled her last words, a plea to care for the tree that witnessed their love. "I will keep it alive, my love, as long as I live," he vowed, feeling the tears that threatened to spill over.

The sight caught Bima by surprise, a miracle that spoke of Laila's enduring presence. The villagers believed it was a testament to their eternal bond, a love not bound by earthly constraints. "Perhaps she is thanking me," he thought, a serene acceptance washing over him.

Bima remained beneath the tree, feeling at peace. He imagined Laila beside him, her spirit woven into the very fabric of the world they loved. "Our love will guide them," he thought, knowing that as long as the tree stood, so would their story.