Chapter 5: The Pages She Never Showed Anyone
The sky was cloudy the next morning.
A soft drizzle kissed the rooftops of Shimara, and the hills disappeared into a thick white mist.
It was the kind of day that begged you to stay in, sip warm tea, and listen to soft music.
Yuna sat by the window of the homestay, her journal in her lap.
She flipped through pages filled with late-night thoughts, tear stains, doodles of stars, and dreams she was too scared to say out loud.
She was halfway through re-reading an old entry when her phone buzzed.
> Alec: “Rainy coffee at Paper Trails?”
Yuna: “Meet me at the swing first. I have something I want to show you.”
---
They met under the rustling tree where the garden swing hung crooked but comforting.
Alec wore his usual grey hoodie, slightly damp from the rain, his hair messy, eyes calm.
Yuna held her journal close.
Her hands were shaking.
She had never shown anyone her pages.
> “This is… me,” she whispered, holding it out.
“The part no one ever sees.”
Alec took it with surprising gentleness — as if it were made of glass and memories.
He didn’t rush.
He flipped slowly, stopping at pages filled with:
– A list titled “Things I Wish I Could Say”
– A drawing of a girl standing at the edge of the world
– A quote: “Sometimes I feel like I don’t exist when I’m around people.”
He looked up, his eyes soft.
> “You write like your heart is on fire, but your voice is afraid of burning someone.”
Yuna blinked back tears.
He closed the journal gently and gave it back.
> “Thank you… for trusting me with your truth.”
Then, for the first time — she leaned her head on his shoulder.
No words. No questions.
Just two souls… sitting in the rain, letting the silence be their answer.
---
That night, Alec sent her a message:
> “You’re not invisible, Yuna. You just needed someone who looks with their heart.”
Chapter 6: The Storm He Carried Silently
Alec had always been good at hiding pain.
He wore his calm like a well-fitted jacket — never wrinkled, never loud.
But Yuna had started to notice…
The way he zoned out during laughter.
The faraway look in his eyes when she spoke about family.
The careful way he avoided certain questions.
That day, they were walking along a quiet forest trail after a soft rain.
The leaves dripped slowly.
The air smelled like wet earth and forgotten memories.
> “You always listen,” Yuna said,
“But you never really speak.”
Alec stopped.
He looked at the sky, took a shaky breath, and finally whispered,
> “My mother left when I was ten.
My dad blamed me.
Said I was the reason she gave up.
I stopped talking much after that.”
Yuna’s heart broke.
She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t hug. Didn’t say sorry.
She just held his hand.
Alec continued, his voice low:
> “I came to Shimara after quitting everything — my job, my city… my plans.
I wanted to disappear without dying.”
Yuna squeezed his hand.
> “I know that feeling,” she whispered.
For a long time, they walked in silence.
Not the awkward kind — the kind where two broken hearts gently acknowledge each other.
Chapter 7: The Shimara Lights Festival
Two nights later, the entire town was lit up for Shimara’s Annual Light Bloom Festival —
a celebration of letting go of sadness and sending it into the sky like a wish.
The streets glowed with fairy lights.
There were lanterns hanging between trees.
Fireflies danced like living stars.
Music played from every corner — soft violins, local drums, people singing folk songs.
Yuna wore a pale blue dress with tiny silver stars.
Alec was in his classic hoodie — but this time, it was clean, and he looked like he had breathed.
As part of the tradition, everyone was given a white paper lantern.
You write a wish or a sorrow on it… then let it float into the sky.
Yuna and Alec sat under the cherry blossom tree.
They wrote in silence.
She didn’t ask what he wrote.
He didn’t ask what she did.
But as they lit their lanterns together, their hands touched.
And when the glowing balloons rose into the sky, their eyes met…
and something passed between them.
Not a kiss.
Not a confession.
But a moment.
> The kind of moment that doesn’t need words.
The kind of moment you remember even after you forget the date.
Later, as the night faded and the crowd thinned,
they sat on the hill — legs crossed, fireflies floating around.
Yuna rested her head on his shoulder again.
> “You know,” Alec whispered,
“Meeting you was like breathing after holding my breath too long.”
Yuna looked at him. The glow of the lanterns still danced in her eyes.
They didn’t kiss.
They didn’t need to.
That night — the stars did it for them.
