CHAPTER 31: THE TRUTH
(Iris’s POV – Flashback)
Eli’s mom held my hand tightly, her fingers cold and trembling. I couldn’t stop staring at his lifeless body, my mind still refusing to accept the truth.
"Iris…" Her voice was hoarse, as if she had been crying for days. "I need to tell you something."
I turned to her, my lips parted, but no words came out. I wasn’t sure if I could handle whatever she was about to say.
She wiped her tears, struggling to compose herself. "Eli… he was suffering, sweetheart. He just never showed it."
I frowned, my heart pounding in my chest. "What do you mean, aunt?"
Her lips trembled. "Eli had depression."
I froze.
No. That couldn't be true. Eli was the one who was always smiling, always teasing, always making sure I was okay and always caring at me.
She continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "He didn't want anyone to worry, so he hid it. He acted strong for everyone, even when he was breaking inside. But these past months… he wasn't doing well, Iris."
Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. "No… No, he would have told me. He—he always told me to take care of myself. He wouldn't—" My voice cracked, and I covered my mouth, sobbing.
She squeezed my hand tighter. "He loved you, Iris. He always talked about you. He was scared of being a burden, but he cared so much. Maybe… maybe he was too busy taking care of you that he forgot to take care of himself."
A sob escaped my lips as I clenched my fists. "Why didn’t he tell me?" My voice broke. "I would have helped him! I—I would have done anything!"
Her eyes filled with sorrow. "I know, sweetheart. But sometimes, people who are suffering don’t always reach out. They hide their pain because they don’t want to hurt the ones they love."
I fell to my knees, my chest tightening. Eli, why?
All those times I thought he was okay, all those moments I thought he was just being his usual self… he was suffering.
And I didn’t know.
I didn’t see it.
I covered my face with my hands, my body shaking. "I should have noticed… I should have been there for him."
Eli’s mom knelt beside me, wrapping her arms around me. "It’s not your fault, Iris. It’s no one’s fault."
But it felt like my fault.
It felt like I failed him.
And now, it was too late.
Eli’s mom looked at me with tear-filled eyes, her grip on my hand tightening. "He told us about himself, Iris," she whispered. "He was struggling, too. He just never wanted anyone to worry."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Struggling?" My voice came out weak.
She nodded. "He used sketching to heal, just like you."
My breath hitched.
I remembered the way he always carried his sketchbook, the way he would get lost in his drawings, how his hands moved with such emotion—like every stroke held a piece of his soul.
I used to think it was just his passion, but now… now I wondered if it was his way of escaping, of coping with the darkness inside him.
"He never told me…" I murmured, my fingers curling into fists. "He never told me he was hurting."
Eli’s mom gave me a sad smile. "Because he wanted to be strong for you."
I shook my head violently. "That’s not fair!" My voice cracked as I wiped my tears. "He always told me to take care of myself, but he—he didn’t let me take care of him."
"Iris…" She brushed my hair back gently, her touch warm despite the coldness in my heart. "Sometimes, the people who help others forget to ask for help themselves."
I let out a shaky breath, my chest aching.
Eli…
All this time, he was fighting his own battles while helping me fight mine. He saw my pain, comforted me, reminded me to take my meds, made sure I ate—
And yet, I never saw his pain.
I never asked if he was okay.
I thought back to all the times I saw him sketching in silence, his eyes distant, his movements slower than usual. I thought he was just focused. I thought he was just being Eli.
But maybe those were the moments when he was breaking the most.
A sob escaped my lips as I hugged myself.
He was gone.
And I never got the chance to save him.