"Some goodbyes don't ask for words—they ask for silence, and a heart that remembers."
"So, you're leaving next week?"
"Yeah. All the procedures are done. My flight is next Saturday."
"I see."
Solace's voice sounded quiet—too quiet. Almost like he was trying to keep something from cracking. That made it harder for me to breathe. I wish I didn't have to leave him. But our lives… they're meant to walk different paths.
Solace has his own responsibilities. And I have mine.
Sometimes, I still wonder—was meeting him just a coincidence? The way he slowly became a part of my life, my thoughts… my heart. Was it fate? Or just a beautiful dream?
But no. It's all real.
That's why it hurts so much.
Why do I have to go just when I want to stay beside him the most?
Why does life split us apart when we're finally close?
No matter how much I try to make sense of it—or push the frustration away—it lingers like a shadow behind my smile.
After our first meeting that day, I was certain: I love him.
We never said it aloud. We never exchanged those three words. But in every little moment, every shared glance, every laugh—we knew. We know.
If I had to define it, maybe I'd say we're unofficially together. But in my heart, there's nothing unofficial about the way I feel. He's mine.
And I don't want to lose him.
Tears trickled down without warning, soft and silent. I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt the warmth on my cheeks.
Memories flickered—sweet, fragile, perfect.
The time we spent together at the amusement park, laughing like children. That lazy afternoon in the shopping complex, trying on clothes and teasing each other. The quiet walk through the botanical garden, our fingers brushing with every step as nature whispered around us.
Moments that now felt like dreams slipping through my fingers.
"Lily?"
Mom's voice echoed from the other room.
I quickly wiped my face, washed away the tears, and walked into her room.
"Here, see all these dresses," she said cheerfully, gesturing toward the bed scattered with fabric and colors.
But my heart wasn't in the room.
It was somewhere else.
With someone else.
***
Lily returned to her room in silence, her mind still clouded by thoughts of him. The dresses her mother showed her were spread neatly across the bed now, untouched. She glanced at them once, then quietly opened her suitcase, setting it on the floor beside her table.
One by one, she began folding clothes into it. Shirts. Jeans. A scarf Solace once complimented. Her hands moved on their own, but her heart lagged behind.
Halfway through, her eyes fell on the small ceramic pot by the window.
A jasmine plant.
It had been a gift from Claire during their last group study before finals. At the time, it had been blooming—white petals soft as whispers, scent delicate and calming. But now, most of the flowers had withered. A few clung to the stem, dried at the edges, fragile. The soil looked dry too, as if it hadn't been watered in days.
She stepped closer, staring at it. Her fingers hovered over one of the remaining blooms, hesitant to touch it.
Is this what we are?
Still beautiful, still standing—but wilting beneath the sun of time?
She sat beside the plant for a moment, then quietly plucked one of the dried petals and pressed it into her notebook—the one she planned to take with her.
Maybe someday I'll look at this and remember.
With a soft sigh, she zipped her suitcase halfway shut and stood up. The room felt heavier now. She crossed over to the window, poured a little water into the pot, and whispered, "Hang in there, okay?"
She wasn't sure if she meant the plant.
Or herself.
***
The smoke curled upward from Solace's lips, slow and pale against the warm tones of the evening sky. It drifted for a moment, almost graceful in its ascent—then vanished, swallowed by the wind as though it had never been.
He sat quietly on a weathered bench nestled beside the stone-paved path of the botanical garden. The place was calm, as always—a secluded escape cradled in the heart of the chaotic city. Here, towering trees whispered overhead, their leaves rustling in soft conversation. Ferns spilled over the edges of trimmed hedges, and small wooden signs marked exotic flowers in neat rows. A lotus pond shimmered in the distance, catching fragments of the fading sunlight. The air carried the scent of earth and crushed petals—fresh, nostalgic, and strangely heavy.
Whenever Solace needed space to breathe, to think, to feel without pretending—he came here.
But today, he wasn't alone.
Ryan sat beside him, cigarette in hand, his eyes half-lidded as he took a drag. The two of them sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being the soft chirping of birds returning home and the distant murmur of wind through bamboo thickets.
"Aren't you going to confess to her?" Ryan finally asked, exhaling smoke that mingled with Solace's in the still air.
Solace didn't answer right away. He leaned back, head tilted toward the sky, eyes closed as if trying to absorb the last warmth of the dying sun. The golden light cast long shadows through the garden, painting the path ahead in broken streaks of amber.
"No," he said at last, his voice low. "If I tell her... I won't be able to let her go."
Ryan turned to glance at him. Solace looked peaceful, but the lines at the corners of his mouth betrayed him—tight with restraint.
"Rather than keeping it inside," Ryan said, flicking ash to the ground, "isn't it better to just say it?"
"You don't understand, Ryan." Solace opened his eyes, watching as the smoke from his next puff spiraled into the sky. "Our paths are different. We can't afford to get more attached than we already are. If we do... when the time comes to part ways, it will tear us apart."
The smoke lingered again, dancing gently upward.
Then, slowly, it began to fade—its presence erased, as though it had never been there.
Just like them, he thought.
Two lives, drawn together for a moment in time—intertwined like twin wisps of smoke.
Beautiful.
But never meant to stay.
***
The café was quiet this afternoon, tucked away from the city's usual chaos. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, spilling golden warmth across the wooden floors. Outside, the city murmured with distant horns, footsteps, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze—but inside, everything felt still.
Soft instrumental music played overhead—low piano notes drifting like dandelion seeds through the quiet space. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with hints of vanilla and cinnamon, wrapping the corner table in a comforting cocoon.
Claire sat across from Lily, tapping her spoon against the rim of her cup.
Claire wore a fitted navy-blue blouse tucked into high-waisted beige trousers. The minimalistic outfit suited her—polished, practical, with a subtle edge. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a sleek low ponytail, her makeup light but defined: a dash of eyeliner, matte nude lipstick, and a faint blush that accentuated her cheekbones. She looked like someone who always had control—until now, when faint annoyance flickered across her composed features.
Lily, in contrast, seemed like a portrait pulled from a watercolor painting. She wore a soft lilac blouse with sheer sleeves, tucked neatly into a flowing white midi skirt that moved with the lightest breeze. Her hair fell in gentle waves around her shoulders, pinned on one side with a small pearl clip. No earrings, just a dainty silver necklace with a heart pendant resting at her collarbone. Her makeup was gentle—a touch of mascara, a hint of pink on her lips, and a fresh glow on her cheeks. She looked calm, but her eyes held a quiet storm.
"So, what have you two decided?" Claire asked, voice sharp enough to break the warm stillness.
Lily lifted her coffee, took a slow sip, and placed it back down. "About what?"
Claire leaned forward slightly, brows furrowed. "About the relationship between you and Solace."
Lily didn't answer right away. Her gaze lingered on the swirling steam above her cup. Then she smiled—softly, wistfully.
"You already know the answer, Claire."
Claire frowned, clearly unsatisfied. "I don't understand why you even involved yourself in a relationship when you both knew it wouldn't work."
Lily remained quiet.
She didn't argue. She didn't defend herself. She simply smiled again—an expression too gentle to be called sad, too full of ache to be anything else.
Outside the café window, a dry leaf twirled in the wind before gliding gently to the ground.
And for a moment, the silence between them said more than words ever could.