That evening as I said I would, I revisited the site where the house that had held so many pleasant and unpleasant memories had once stood. But I did not return alone. I looked over at the beauty that was Estella, her hand entwined with mine. She had never left my side since our meeting earlier this day. I smiled when I noticed that her eyes were closed and a beautiful, content smile graced her lips. I came to a conclusion earlier this day that Estella was broken and her heart still not completely warm. But I then made the decision that I will be the one to pick up the pieces and be the fire that warms her heart. I lightly tugged at her hand and told her that it was time to take our leave. She opened her eyes, the same smile still on her lips when she looked at me (in fact, it might've widened a bit), and nodded. We then began to return home once again, hand in hand. I revisited that same location 5 years later, once again I was not alone. I looked down at the small figure holding my hand and gazing up at me. He gazed at me with those beautiful eyes that belonged to Estella and a smile gracing the face of myself thirty years prior. It was here that I would tell him his bed time story. It was his favorite story, a story about a boy and the great expectations that were in store for him.