Two little black birds flying high in the beautiful sky.
It’s such a simple image, but it’s been lingering in my mind all day. Are we the black birds? Am I one of them? It makes me wonder if I’m soaring freely through life or if I’m just a dark spot against someone else’s bright canvas.
Did we ruin the beautiful view of the sky?
Sometimes I feel like that—like my presence disturbs the peace around me. Maybe it’s the way I carry my grief, like a shadow that stretches further than I intend. After Dad passed, it felt like everything I touched lost its colour. Mom’s smile faded, Mike drifted away, and I just… became this quiet, heavy thing in the middle of it all. I wonder if I’ve become that black bird, casting a shadow where there should be light.
Or…
We are the ones who make the view look better?
But maybe—it’s a maybe, but it’s there—maybe we’re not ruining anything. Maybe the sky needs the contrast, the dark wings cutting through the blue. Without the black birds, would the sky look too empty, too plain? Maybe even grief, even the parts of me I wish I could hide, add something to the world. Maybe I’m not just a dark spot. Maybe I’m part of the bigger picture.
I don’t know.
I want to believe that. I really do.
But belief is a tricky thing, isn’t it?
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.
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“How are you?” I asked, my voice a little softer than I intended, as Kaia settled into the seat across from me.
She was already there when I arrived, lounging with that effortless grace she always seemed to have, like the world could crumble around her and she’d still sit there, unfazed. Her dark hair was tied back loosely, and the late afternoon sun filtering through the café window caught the faintest shimmer in her eyes. She was so close, yet I felt the weight of everything unsaid stretching between us like an invisible thread pulling tighter.
We were supposed to meet a week ago. But life—or rather, the chaos at the office—got in the way. The days had been a blur of deadlines, meetings, and late nights hunched over my laptop, trying to wrap up everything before my internship ended. One month left. No—three weeks, to be exact. The last week was reserved for evaluations, which felt like a distant storm I wasn’t ready to face yet.
“Hi, Mae,” Kaia greeted with that easy smile of hers. “I’m doing great. Everything’s good, as usual. How about you? I think you’ve only got a few weeks left, right?”
I nodded, feeling a strange flutter in my chest at how she remembered the exact timeline. “Yes, Kaia… That’s actually why I wanted to meet today. There’s… a lot I want to tell you.” I hesitated, my words hanging in the air like fragile glass. “But you mentioned you had some news too. What is it?”
Kaia chuckled, leaning back in her chair with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Let’s order something first. Why so eager, huh?” Her smile deepened, but there was something playful—almost mischievous—about it today. It wasn’t the polite, familiar Kaia I was used to seeing. This was different. This smile did something dangerous to my heart. I could feel it hammering in my chest, loud and insistent, but I forced myself to act nonchalant, hoping she couldn’t see the slight tremor in my hands as I picked up the menu.
We headed to the counter to order. Normally, Kaia would brush off food, saying things like, “I’m full,” or “I’m on a diet,” with that casual wave of her hand. I never questioned it—she used to be an athlete, after all, and it was clear she took care of her body meticulously. But today? Today was different.
“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Kaia said, glancing at me with a smirk as she pointed to my order.
I blinked, momentarily thrown off. She’d never done that before. My heart skipped a beat. Was this just a joke? A small, harmless gesture? Or was there something more beneath the surface of her words? I tried not to overthink it, but that was like telling the ocean not to make waves.
We returned to our table, the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. But comfort was the last thing I felt.
As soon as we sat down, I leaned forward slightly, unable to keep my curiosity in check. “Kaia, what’s your news? What did you want to tell me?”
Instead of answering, she pulled an envelope from her bag and slid it across the table toward me. My heart clenched the moment I saw it. Somehow, deep down, I already knew what it was. But at the same time, denial wrapped its cold fingers around my chest, whispering, don’t assume. You don’t know for sure.
Just as I reached out to take it, Kaia pulled it back with a teasing grin. “Not so fast,” she laughed. “Open it later. Let’s eat first. Besides…” Her gaze softened, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes—something I couldn’t quite place. “I want to hear about you. What’s this big thing you wanted to tell me?”
I froze. This was it—the moment I had been rehearsing in my head for days. But now that it was here, my throat felt dry, like the words were trapped, scared to leap out and expose my heart.
I stirred my coffee, staring at the swirling patterns on its surface, trying to find courage in the tiny whirlpools. Finally, I exhaled slowly and met her gaze.
“Well…” I started, my voice a little shaky. “My mentor told me something unexpected. They said the HQ is offering me a position there.”
Kaia’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I saw genuine surprise—and maybe even a flicker of something else—cross her face. But she quickly masked it with a warm smile.
“Mae, that’s amazing!” she said, reaching out to gently squeeze my hand. The warmth of her touch sent a current through me, both grounding and electrifying at the same time. “You’ve worked so hard. You deserve this.”
I smiled, but it felt fragile, like it could shatter if I let it linger too long. “Yeah… I guess. But that’s not all I wanted to tell you.”
Her brows lifted in curiosity, her fingers still lightly resting against mine. “Oh? What else?”
I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse quicken. This was it. The confession was sitting at the edge of my tongue, begging to be released. But could I really do it? Could I lay my heart bare like this?
I took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage I had left.
“Kaia…” I whispered, my voice barely above the hum of the café. “There’s something I need to be honest about. Something I’ve been holding back.”
Her eyes searched mine, and I could feel the weight of her attention, like the world had narrowed down to just this moment, just the two of us.
And with my heart pounding louder than ever, I finally let the words slip out.
“I… I think I have feelings for you.”
The words slipped out, softer than I intended, yet they echoed in my chest like thunder. For a heartbeat—maybe longer—everything around us blurred. The clinking of cups, the low hum of conversations, even the distant sound of a barista calling out orders—all of it faded, leaving just me and Kaia in this fragile, trembling bubble of vulnerability.
Her hand stayed over mine, warm and steady. Her thumb moved in slow, soothing circles against my skin, as if grounding me, keeping me from floating away in the storm of my own confession. She didn’t pull back. Not immediately. She just looked at me.
Really looked.
Her eyes—those sharp, lively eyes I’d admired from afar for so long—softened, the corners crinkling slightly like she was about to say something kind, something gentle. Then a smile curved her lips. It wasn’t the bright, effortless grin she usually wore, the one that lit up rooms and drew people to her like moths to a flame. No, this smile was quieter, tender, and threaded with something I couldn’t quite name. Sadness, maybe.
“Mae,” she whispered, my name sitting heavy between us.
For a moment, I let myself hope. Maybe—just maybe—she felt it too. Maybe this wasn’t all in my head.
But then… her hand slipped away.
She pulled back, slowly, like peeling off a bandage, careful not to hurt but knowing it would sting anyway. Her gaze dropped to the table, studying the faint coffee rings as if they held answers. When she finally looked up again, the warmth in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by something guarded, something careful.
“But Mae…” She paused, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Have you ever thought that maybe… maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet?” She chuckled, but there was no humour in it, just a nervous attempt to lighten the weight of her words. “Sometimes we confuse admiration or closeness with… something more.”
It felt like the floor beneath me gave out. Her words washed over me like a cold tide, pulling back the fragile warmth of hope I’d dared to feel. My chest tightened, and I felt that familiar sting at the back of my eyes, the threat of tears I refused to let fall. Not here. Not in front of her.
I forced a smile. It felt foreign on my face, brittle and strained.
“I… maybe,” I whispered, my voice wobbling but still standing. “But I can’t deny how I feel. Not anymore.”
Kaia’s expression softened, but there was distance in it now, a space I couldn’t cross. She reached across the table again, but her touch was different this time—gentler, yes, but also more distant, like she was afraid of leading me on. Her fingers barely grazed mine before retreating.
“I care about you, Mae. I really do.” Her voice was sincere, but each word felt like a tiny shard, lodging itself deeper into my chest. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Maybe… maybe this isn’t what you think it is. I don’t want to be the reason you’re confused.”
Her concern was meant to be comforting, but it only made the ache worse. It wasn’t confusion. It wasn’t. But how could I make her see that when she’d already decided otherwise?
I nodded, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in this café where the world kept spinning, oblivious to the quiet unravelling happening at our small corner table.
“Yeah,” I murmured, pulling my hand back and wrapping it tightly around my coffee cup, its warmth now the only thing keeping me anchored. “Maybe you’re right.”
But as I stared into the swirling, dark liquid, I knew she wasn’t.
And somehow, that hurt more than anything else.
A heavy silence settled between us, thick and suffocating. I thought maybe that was it—that she’d said all she needed to say. But then, her hand drifted toward the envelope resting on the table between us, the one she’d placed there earlier with that same soft, sad smile.
My heart sank.
“What about… the things you showed me earlier?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. The question slipped out before I could stop it, each word scraping against the raw edges of my heart. “Is it… what I’m thinking it is?”
Kaia’s smile faltered. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret—but it was gone before I could grasp it.
“Oh… I think it is,” she murmured, her voice almost too gentle.
She slid the envelope back toward me, her fingers brushing mine one last time. I stared at it, my breath caught in my chest, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on me.
With trembling hands, I opened it.
As I expected.
A wedding invitation.
The words on the card blurred as my vision swam, but I could still make out the names, bold and final, staring back at me like a cruel joke. I felt the tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, forcing a smile that felt like it might shatter my face.
“Congratulations,” I whispered, my voice hollow, echoing in the empty space where hope had once lived.
I stared at the wedding invitation again, its glossy surface reflecting the dim café lights, mocking me with its polished perfection. The letters blurred, not from the sheen of the card, but from the sting in my eyes that I fought so desperately to control.
Congratulations. The word echoed in my mind, hollow and brittle.
Kaia’s hand lingered on the table, as if she wanted to reach out again, to say something—anything—that might soften the sharp edges of this moment. But what was there left to say? No words could stitch together the cracks spreading through my chest.
The walls of the café suddenly felt too close, the hum of conversation growing louder, pressing in on me, suffocating. I needed air. Space. Distance.
I swallowed hard, forcing a shaky breath past the tightness in my throat. I couldn’t stay here, not a second longer.
“I—” My voice caught, fragile and unsteady. I cleared my throat, trying again, this time with a brittle smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I should go.”
Kaia’s eyes flickered, surprise flashing across her face, followed by something softer—concern, maybe. But I couldn’t bear to see it. Not when it was laced with pity.
“Mae, you don’t have to—”
But I was already standing, the chair scraping against the floor louder than I intended, cutting through her words. I grabbed my coat, my fingers fumbling with the sleeves as I avoided her gaze.
“I do,” I said quietly, my voice steadier this time, even though everything inside me was unravelling.
She opened her mouth like she wanted to protest, to say something, but the words never came. Maybe she knew there was nothing left to say. Maybe she felt the finality in the space between us, in the way I wouldn’t meet her eyes.
I slid the invitation back across the table, my fingertips lingering on the edge for just a moment before I let it go.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I murmured, my voice distant, like I was already halfway out the door.
And then, without another word, I turned and walked away.
Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of unspoken words and shattered hope pressing down on me. I pushed through the café doors, the cool air outside hitting me like a slap, sharp and unforgiving. But I welcomed it. It was better than the suffocating warmth inside.
I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t.
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Timestamp: 02:51
Harryyyy…. Today, I felt this wave of clarity wash over me, like the fog that’s been clouding my mind started to lift…just a little. I’ve been thinking…really thinking…about who I am and who I’m becoming. It’s easy to get tangled up in what everyone else expects, like invisible strings pulling me in directions I never asked for. But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to be truthful. Not just to others, but to myself.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How we wear these masks, shape-shifting into what people want us to be, just to fit in or to be liked. But I’m starting to realize…I don’t need to do that. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to lose pieces of myself just to make someone else comfortable. If I’m going to change, it’s going to be because I want it. Because I feel it in my bones that it’s time to grow, to shed old layers, to evolve into the person I envision when no one’s watching. I want to be the person I want to be…not the version that others expect, but the one that feels real, raw, and unapologetically me.
But… Harry, today I confessed my love to her.
I thought if I laid my heart bare, maybe rejection wouldn’t sting as much. I thought that being honest would make it easier to breathe. But how am I supposed to go through my day after this? We rarely talk, but the feelings… they hurt like we’ve been speaking every day, like every silence between us was filled with words I never said. And now…how am I supposed to go over her wedding? How do I stand there, smile, clap, and pretend my heart isn’t shattering into pieces so small I can’t even pick them up? I don’t have the answers tonight. Maybe tomorrow will bring something different. Maybe it won’t. But at least I was true. To myself. To her. Even if it hurts like hell.
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As time drifts forward like the tide, relentless and unyielding, my last day of internship finally came to an end. Six months had passed in a blur of projects, late-night revisions, and moments I wished I could freeze in time. And now, just as I was about to catch my breath, life decided to throw me straight into another whirlwind. My graduation ceremony was only a few days away—a moment I had dreamed of, yet it felt oddly surreal, as if I were merely an observer in my own story.
And then, the very next day after graduation, Kaia’s wedding awaited. The thought of it sat like a stone in my chest, heavy and unmovable. It wasn’t just the idea of attending; it was everything—the finality of it, the closing of a chapter I never truly had the chance to write. While the world celebrated love and new beginnings, I would stand there, watching her slip away into a life that no longer had room for me. What a drag. How was I supposed to handle all of this? The emotions tangled within me were a mess—pride, exhaustion, heartbreak, anxiety—each pulling me in different directions.
And just when I thought I'd have time to process it all, reality had other plans. The following Monday, I would step into the doors of Summit River Corp, not as an intern this time, but as a full-fledged employee. My real job. The beginning of a new chapter in my life, one that came with responsibilities, expectations, and the ever-looming pressure of adulthood.
Wow.
I took a deep breath, letting the weight of it all settle in. It was happening—this was it. No more hesitating, no more waiting for life to slow down. I was stepping into a future that had already begun unfolding before me. Maybe it was time to welcome myself to adulthood.