The sun was out, but the light felt wrong. Too warm. Too golden for a world that had lost her.
Kian sat by the window with the box in front of him, mostly empty now, except for a folded piece of paper he hadn't seen before. It was tucked in the back, under the divider, hidden like it was never meant to be found.
There was no envelope. No date.
Just his name, written on the front in ink that had slightly bled.
Kian, underlined once, then again, like she had hesitated.
He picked it up slowly.
It felt… different.
Not like the others. Not like something she wrote knowing she was dying.
This felt like before.
Before everything fell apart. Before the hospital gowns and the nausea and the pitying stares. Before the weight of goodbye.
This was her, all of her. The version that lived before death was a shadow in the corner of her room.
And what she wrote inside would ruin him.
Kian,
I don't know how to say this without breaking everything.
And maybe I'm a coward for writing it instead of saying it to your face. But when I look at you, all the words disappear and I end up laughing too hard and changing the subject.
So I'm writing it here, just once. Just in case.
I love you.
Not like a best friend. Not like a little-kid crush.
I love you in a way that ruins every other kind of love for me.
I love you when you're being an idiot.
I love you when you're quiet, when your eyes are somewhere far away and your hands don't know what to do.
I love you when you don't love yourself.
And it's terrifying.
Because I don't know if you'll ever feel the same. I don't know if I'll wake up one day and see you holding someone else's hand, giving them all the soft pieces of you I memorized when you weren't looking.
I don't want to ruin us.
I don't want to lose you.
But sometimes I lie awake and imagine what it would be like if you kissed me.
Just once.
Just to see if the world catches fire the way I think it would.
Maybe I'll never send this.
Maybe it'll sit in a drawer and rot.
But if you ever find it…if somehow, this reaches you…
Please don't hate me for loving you like this.
I didn't mean to.
I just… did.
Em
The letter slipped from his fingers.
It didn't fall, it floated down, like even the air didn't want to let go of it.
Kian's throat closed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair. His whole body shook, not from crying, not yet. Just from the unbearable weight of knowing.
She loved him.
All this time.
Quietly. Painfully. Completely.
And he'd never known.
Or maybe he had, maybe somewhere deep down he had known. And he was just too scared, too stupid, too late.
He pushed back from the desk and stumbled across the room. His legs didn't feel real. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape. The air was thick, like something was sitting on his chest, clawing its way inside.
He couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't feel anything except everything.
His vision blurred. His ears rang. His knees gave out and he collapsed onto the floor with a sound that wasn't quite a sob, wasn't quite a scream, just pain.
He gasped.
Once.
Twice.
No air.
The walls were too close. The room was caving in. He clawed at his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric like he could physically pull the panic out of himself.
"I didn't say it back," he choked, voice shredded.
"I didn't—she loved me and I—"
His chest seized. The words fell apart in his mouth.
The sound that tore out of him wasn't human.
It was grief, unfiltered, animal, brutal.
He hit the floor with his fist once, twice, again.
Tears soaked the carpet.
Snot ran down his face.
He didn't care.
He couldn't care.
Everything inside him had come undone.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed.
"Em, I'm so sorry."
He curled into himself like a child.
Not strong. Not brave. Not holding it together.
Just a boy who missed a girl and never told her what she meant.
He pressed his face into the floor and said her name over and over like maybe if he said it enough times, she'd come back.
"Emilia… Emilia… Emilia—"
But there was no answer.
Just the sound of his own shaking breath, and the letter lying open on the floor beside him, and the silence she left behind.