(Iris’s POV)
I looked at Eli’s mom, my hands trembling as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "I had a dream about him last night," I whispered.
Her eyes softened. "A dream?"
I nodded, my voice shaking. "It was dark… but then I saw Eli. He was standing there, smiling at me. He told me not to be sad anymore, that he didn’t want to see me like this." I took a deep breath, feeling the lump in my throat grow. "He told me to remember that he’s always here."
Eli’s mom covered her mouth, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Oh, Eli…"
I clenched my fists. "So… was that a sign? Did he come to say goodbye?"
She reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. "Maybe," she said softly. "Maybe he wanted to comfort you one last time."
I bit my lip. "But why does it hurt so much?"
"Because you loved him," she whispered. "And love doesn't disappear just because someone is gone."
I lowered my gaze, staring at my shaking hands. "I never got to tell him," I admitted. "I never got to say that I love him too."
Eli’s mom wiped her tears and placed a hand over my heart. "He knew, Iris. He always knew."
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply.
Maybe this was Eli’s way of telling me to move forward. Maybe he wanted me to heal.
But how could I, when a part of me was still trapped in the past—still waiting for him to come back?
"He always tells me stories about you," Eli’s mom said, her voice filled with warmth and sorrow.
I looked up at her, my eyes still damp with tears. "Stories?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
She nodded, smiling gently despite the pain in her expression. "Every time he visited home, he’d talk about you. How stubborn you were, how passionate you were about your paintings… how you would always argue with him over the smallest things, only to laugh about it later."
A small, broken laugh escaped me. "That sounds like us."
"He adored you, Iris," she continued, squeezing my hand. "He was always worried about you. He’d tell me about your bad days, the times you wouldn’t take your meds, and how he would do anything just to make sure you were okay."
My heart ached. Eli…
"He said you were like a storm and a sunset at the same time," she chuckled softly. "Unpredictable, but breathtaking."
I covered my mouth, holding back a sob. "Why didn’t he tell me he was struggling too?"
Eli’s mom sighed. "Because that’s the kind of person he was. He carried his own burdens quietly, so others wouldn’t have to worry."
I shook my head, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "I would’ve helped him. I would’ve done anything."
She cupped my face gently. "I know, sweetheart. But sometimes, people get so used to being strong for others that they forget to ask for help themselves."
I closed my eyes, inhaling shakily.
I could still hear his voice. Still see his smile.
But now, he was gone.
And I didn’t know if I’d ever learn how to live with that.
I sat across from Eli’s mom, my hands trembling in my lap as I tried to steady my breath. My heart ached with every passing second, the weight of his loss pressing down harder with each new question I dared to ask.
"May I know why he suffered from depression?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Why couldn’t he cope?"
Her eyes softened, and she let out a deep sigh, as if she had been waiting for me to ask that question. "Eli… he was a lot like you, Iris. Strong on the outside, but fragile on the inside."
I leaned forward, my heart pounding. "What do you mean?"
"He had a lot of pain, much of it from his past," she explained, her voice calm but filled with sorrow. "When Eli was younger, he faced a lot of loss. His father—my husband—died when Eli was only fifteen. He never fully processed that grief. And over the years, he carried the weight of that loss, pretending to be fine, telling himself that he needed to be strong for everyone else."
I blinked, the words hitting me like a punch in the stomach. I had no idea.
"After his father passed, he became the man of the house. He didn’t let anyone see how much he hurt, how much he missed his dad. It was like he thought if he showed his vulnerability, everything would fall apart." Her voice wavered as she continued, the pain in her eyes reflecting the heartache of a mother who had watched her son suffer in silence. "And then, as the years went by, the weight of his grief started to pile up. He couldn’t escape it anymore."