“If you want it so badly, you will get it. So never give up!”
---
~ Elizabeth ~
The day felt longer than usual. Even at 10 p.m., I still couldn’t sleep—no matter how long I had laid in bed.
Giving up, I grabbed my phone and headed to the kitchen.
I dropped it on the counter and opened the fridge. That’s when the fresh strawberries caught my eye. And then an idea struck—how about strawberry cakes?
I pulled out all the ingredients I needed and laid them on the counter. Then I picked up my phone and did a quick search to be sure I had everything right. Once I got confirmation, I began mixing. When I was done, I opened the oven and carefully slid the cake pan inside.
I set a timer for forty-five minutes. Looking around the kitchen, there wasn’t much else to do, so I picked up my phone again and opened social media.
I scrolled past Evelyn’s name… and paused. Her teary eyes flashed in my mind again—for the umpteenth time.
That was when I realized why I hadn’t been able to sleep.
“What do I do? What do I do?” I whispered like a mantra, tapping my foot softly against the floor.
I left the kitchen and walked into the sitting room, where I had set up a small, cozy library. A tiny potted plant sat in the corner, adding charm to the space.
I pulled a book off the shelf and flipped to the page where I had left a quill-shaped bookmark.
Against my better judgment, I took a photo of the page. Then I searched for videos on healing from heartbreak. I forwarded both the poem and a video to Evelyn.
The poem was short—but it had always reminded me that sometimes, it’s not about me. Sometimes, it’s about the other person.
Even though the poet wrote it after falling out with a close friend, it still hits. I hoped it would help her too.
I stood by the shelf for what felt like ages, until the timer went off. I returned to the kitchen and turned off the oven, then carefully brought out my freshly baked cake.
I added a few toppings—bite-sized strawberry slices from the ones left after blending the rest into the batter.
I snapped a photo and sent it to Anita Baker, who had once dared me to practice random self-care and thank her later. I must say—she was absolutely right. I was so proud of my little creation.
Viola!
I cut myself a generous slice and placed it on a plate. Then I poured a glass of sparkling water, added a slice of lemon, and walked to the dining table with both.
I returned to the mini library to grab the poetry book, opened it to the page I had photographed, and sat down to read while enjoying my late-night dessert.
It felt a little wild to be eating at this hour, especially since I’d had dinner just three hours ago.
But well… if it makes me happy, I don’t mind. 
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HIDDEN MOON
The moon hides itself
tonight,
And it reminds me
so much of you.
The moon that used to
always be there,
Just outside my window,
Now seems to have taken
a few steps away.
Guess where I found it?
Behind a tree,
by the kitchen.
Why it was hiding—
I have no idea.
Just like you.
I couldn’t really
understand
Why you hid
yourself from me.
Maybe you thought
I was too good for you,
Long before I ever would.
Maybe you believed
I deserved better—
Better than the scarred
version of you;
Better than the emotionally
unavailable you.
Maybe you saw
That my dreams
were bigger,
Wider than you
could imagine.
Maybe you felt
The moon wouldn’t
be enough—
And I’d reach for
the stars, too.
Maybe you feared
I’d ask you to count them,
To name each one,
Like a nursery rhyme.
Maybe you thought
I needed more…
More than you could
ever give.
Maybe you discovered
My royal blood—
And knew you couldn’t
pay the price
Of grooming a queen.
Maybe that’s why you fled—
Because you realized
I was far more than
you could handle.
Maybe…
It was never about me.
It was always about you.
And maybe I need
to understand
That just like the sun
hiding itself
Isn’t my fault,
You staying away
isn’t mine either.
Why does this realization
Feel so comforting?
So freeing?
Why?
---
This was my tenth time reading the poem, yet somehow—every single time—I paused and I let the words sink in.
Maybe because I relate to them so deeply. Or maybe because it reminds me so much of that short-lived relationship… if I can even call it that.
I’ll never forget how his touch made me feel so alive… so at home. Yet it ended—abruptly.
Or maybe… It was all a dream. A nightmare I’ve yet to wake up from.
I reached for a tissue from the box on the table and wiped away the lone tear that escaped from the corner of my eye.
Then, I flipped to the next page and continued reading, slowly savoring my cake.
…
At exactly midnight, just as I was about to turn in for the night, my phone pinged with a notification.
It was from Evie.
: Hey… Thank you very much for the poem and video. I truly appreciate it…
I stared at the message for a moment, imagining the words she didn’t say. “I’m sorry.” But they weren’t there
Still, I replied:
: You are welcome.
Then I turned on Do Not Disturb, pulled the duvet over myself, and finally… closed my eyes.
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A/N: What an emotionally packed chapter! What do you think, guys?