The Cape Town air felt heavier than Leia remembered. Probably because she was 3 the last time she visited.
Not in a bad way, exactly – just different. It had this crisp, ocean chill that clung to her sleeves and bit through her jeans whenever the wind picked up. She'd forgotten how the winters here weren't the snow-and-fireplace kind like the ones she'd grown used to in the UK. They were the kind that smelled like rain, sea salt, and damp pavement. The kind that made you pull your hoodie tighter and your thoughts closer.
It had been a week since she and her mom landed, and already, life had slipped into a new kind of routine. Mornings filled with chatter from her cousins, her grandmother humming gospel songs in the kitchen, the distant sound of seagulls slicing through the quiet. It was loud, but in a comforting way – a different kind of chaos from the one she'd left behind.
Her mom was happier here. Leia could see It in the way she smiled without forcing it, how her shoulders seemed lighter when she spoke to her siblings over coffee. Sometimes Leia caught her mother watching her, eyes soft but sad – like she knew her daughter's heart hadn't quite arrived yet.
Leia tried to be present. She helped her aunt cook, laughed at her cousins' jokes, even went with them to the waterfront on Sunday. But every time her phone buzzed, her breath caught just a little. And every time it wasn't him, that familiar ache pressed deeper into her chest.
Miles hadn't texted much since she left. Not because he didn't care – at least, that's what Leia told herself – but because they both didn't really know what to say anymore. There were still the occasional messages:
"Hope you landed safe."
"Your mom seems nice."
"Miss you."
Short, spaced out. Always leaving her wanting more.
That Wednesday afternoon, Leia was sitting on the front porch, her notebook open on her lap, pen hovering above the page. She was trying to write, but every word felt too heavy or too empty. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the street wet and shimmering. The scent of wet earth and sea carried through the air.
"Leia! We're going to the café, come with!" her cousin Maya called out, already halfway down the driveway.
Leia hesitated for a second before closing her notebook. "Yeah, give me a sec."
The café was one of those cozy corner spots with fogged-up windows and old wooden tables. The bell above the door jingled softly as they walked in, the scent of espresso and cinnamon wrapping around her like a blanket. Maya and her brother immediately went to order, leaving Leia to find a table near the window.
That's when she noticed him – Ethan.
He was behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, curls falling into his eyes as he worked the espresso machine. He looked up briefly and gave her a small, polite smile. Something about it – maybe how warm and effortless it was – caught her off guard.
When he brought their drinks over, Maya grinned. "Ethan, this is my cousin from the UK. Leia."
"Leia," he repeated, as if testing how her name felt in his mouth. "Nice to finally meet you. Your cousins talk about you a lot."
Leia smiled, shy but polite. "All good things, I hope."
"Depends on who you ask," he teased, his eyes glinting.
They talked for a bit – small things at first. How she found Cape Town weather, how weird it was adjusting to the opposite seasons, whether she liked rooibos tea (she didn't). He was easy to talk to, but not in a way that pulled her in – more like a quiet background hum that made the space between words less lonely.
When Maya and her brother went outside to take pictures, Ethan lingered. "You know," he said, wiping his hands on a cloth, "you don't seem like someone who likes crowds."
Leia looked up at him, surprised. "Is it that obvious?"
He shrugged. "Just something about your eyes. They look like they're always somewhere else."
She almost smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah," she said softly. "Somewhere else."
Ethan leaned against the counter. "Whoever's got you looking like that – they must be lucky."
Leia's throat tightened slightly. She wanted to say something clever, maybe laugh it off, but instead, she shook her head. "They're not mine to miss."
Ethan blinked, then nodded slowly, understanding more than she said. "Still," he murmured, "they sound like they mean a lot to you."
"They do," she said simply. "Probably too much."
Maya came back just in time to break the silence, her voice filling the space like sunlight through clouds. Leia was grateful for it.
Before they left, Ethan handed her a takeaway cup with her name written across it – except, underneath, he'd written "for the girl with the somewhere-else eyes."
Leia tucked it under her arm as they stepped out into the cold, smiling softly to herself.
That night, lying in bed, she stared at the text she wanted to send Miles but didn't:
There's this boy here. He's sweet. But he's not you.
Instead, she put her phone down and opened her notebook. Her handwriting was messy, uneven, but honest:
I think the hardest part of missing someone isn't the silence. It's realizing they might be learning how to live without you, too.
She stared at the words for a long time before closing the book.
Outside, the rain started again – steady and soft, like the ocean breathing.
The sea was louder than usual the next morning. Waves crashed against the rocks with rhythmic violence, sending mist into the air that clung to Leia's hair and lashes. The sky was a thick blanket of grey, streaked with darker clouds that promised more rain later.
Leia walked barefoot beside her mother, their shoes dangling from their hands, leaving uneven footprints along the damp sand. The cold bit at her toes, but it was grounding in a way – like the ocean wanted to keep her from floating too far into her head again.
Her mom was quiet, watching the horizon with that same soft melancholy she always carried. Leia knew that look – it was the expression of someone who'd spent years trying to make peace with old regrets.
"You're quiet this morning," her mother said after a while, her voice calm and low, nearly lost to the wind.
Leia shrugged. "Just tired, I guess."
Her mother hummed, unconvinced. "Tired's a word people use when they don't want to explain what's really wrong."
Leia smiled faintly. "You sound like one of those self-help books."
Her mom laughed lightly, bumping her shoulder against Leia's. "And you sound like someone who's trying too hard not to cry."
Leia looked down at the sand, tracing circles with her toes. "I'm not," she lied.
Her mom didn't press her, just waited – the way she always did when she knew her daughter would come around eventually.
"I met someone yesterday," Leia said after a long pause. "Well – not met met. He just works at a café near here. He was… nice."
"Nice?" her mom repeated, smiling a little. "That sounds promising."
Leia shook her head. "Not like that. He's just… you know when someone tries to see you, but it's like you're not really there?"
Her mom's expression softened. "Because someone else already does."
Leia glanced at her. "Yeah."
They walked a few more steps in silence before Leia spoke again, her voice quieter now. "It's complicated."
"Isn't it always?" her mother replied gently.
"He's not my boyfriend," Leia said quickly. "We're just-"
Her mom gave her a knowing look. "Friends?"
Leia sighed. "I don't even know anymore. We were fine, then everything got messy. We said things we didn't mean, and now it's like… every time I think about him, I can't breathe right. Like he's still in the room even when he's not."
Her mother didn't laugh or tease. She just nodded, understanding too well. "That sounds a lot like love, sweetheart."
Leia's heart clenched. "I don't think I'm ready for that."
"No one ever is," her mom said softly. "But sometimes, love doesn't ask if you're ready. It just happens, and all you can do is feel it."
Leia swallowed hard, her eyes glistening from the wind – or maybe something else. "What if he doesn't feel the same way?"
Her mom stopped walking and turned to face her. "Then you'll still be okay. Because loving someone doesn't make you weak, Leia. It means you have a heart that knows how to care – even when it hurts."
Leia looked away toward the water, blinking fast. The waves seemed endless. "It's just hard," she whispered. "Being so far from him. It's like the distance made everything louder."
Her mother smiled sadly. "That's what missing someone does. It turns silence into echoes."
Leia didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer to the shoreline, letting the icy foam roll over her feet. It stung, but she didn't move.
Her mom joined her, watching the sea in companionable quiet. "You know," she said after a while, "when I was your age, I thought heartbreak was the end of the world. But sometimes, it's just the beginning of understanding yourself."
Leia tilted her head. "That's… surprisingly deep for a Tuesday."
Her mom chuckled, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "You're growing up faster than I thought," she murmured.
Leia leaned into her. "I just wish he was here."
Her mother pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "If he's meant to be in your life, he'll find his way back – no matter the distance."
They stayed there until the clouds broke open and the rain began to fall again – soft and steady, soaking their clothes and hair. Leia didn't care. She closed her eyes and let it happen, letting the cold blur everything around her.
When they finally walked back up the shore, hand in hand, she felt lighter somehow. The ache was still there, but it wasn't as sharp.
Later that night, she sat by her window, listening to the rain tap against the glass. Her notebook was open again, but she wasn't writing this time – just tracing the smudges of dried ink with her finger.
Her phone buzzed once. A message from Miles.
You still up?
Leia smiled – small, fragile, but real. Her thumbs hovered over the screen for a long time before she typed back:
Yeah. It's raining here. You?
The three dots appeared almost immediately. Then:
Same. Weird, huh?
She rested her chin on her knee, staring at his words until they blurred.
Not weird, she typed. Kinda perfect.
He didn't reply after that – and he didn't need to. Sometimes, even from oceans apart, they still managed to find each other in the same storm.