The campus glowed beneath strings of soft golden lights, each bulb flickering like a memory refusing to fade. The air was warm, filled with the scent of spring and freshly bloomed daffodils that lined the walkway leading to the main hall. Someone had thought it would be poetic — a farewell surrounded by flowers that symbolized new beginnings.
Aria Bennett didn't feel like she was at a beginning.
She felt like something precious was quietly ending.
She stood near the edge of the open-air dance floor, holding the hem of her pastel-yellow dress — a soft, flowing fabric that moved like it belonged to the wind. Her friends spun and laughed around her, their voices echoing through the night, but her mind kept drifting elsewhere. To the empty spaces between laughter. To the thought that maybe, after tonight, nothing would ever be the same.
"Aria! Come take a picture with us!" Lauren called out, already waving her phone.
Aria smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You guys take it first, I'll be there in a sec."
Lauren pouted but shrugged. "Don't disappear on us again!"
"I won't," Aria said softly, though her voice was almost lost under the music.
Her shoes pressed lightly against the grass as she took a few steps back from the crowd. From here, the daffodils swayed gently under the light breeze, their yellow petals glowing under the silver moonlight. It was beautiful, but in a way that made her heart ache — like watching something perfect that she couldn't quite reach.
She'd always been the girl who smiled too easily, the one everyone thought had her life together — bright, kind, dependable. But lately, every laugh felt a little borrowed. Every smile, a little practiced.
Maybe she was just tired.
Tired of pretending to know what came next.
A voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hiding from everyone again?"
She turned to find Ethan — her classmate, always effortlessly confident, hands tucked in his pockets. His tie was loose, his hair a mess, but his grin was easy.
"I'm not hiding," Aria said, tilting her head toward the lights. "Just… taking it all in. It's weird, isn't it? How it's all ending."
"It's not ending," he said. "It's changing. You'll see."
She smiled faintly. "I hope you're right."
But deep down, she wasn't sure she believed it. She'd spent so long trying to be everything for everyone — the good daughter, the perfect student — that she'd forgotten what she wanted for herself.
A burst of laughter erupted from nearby, pulling her attention for just a moment. When she looked back, Ethan had already gone to join the others.
And that's when she felt it — that strange, weightless stillness.
Her gaze wandered past the daffodils, to the far end of the garden where the shadows thickened beneath an old oak tree. There, beyond the golden lights, stood someone — too still to be part of the crowd. The figure wasn't close enough for her to see his face, but she could tell he was watching. Not in a way that felt wrong — more like… familiar, though she couldn't explain why.
Her heartbeat quickened. She blinked once, twice — and when she looked again, he was gone.
Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone had seen her — really seen her — for the first time in a long while.
The night carried on. The speeches, the dances, the promises to stay in touch. Aria laughed when everyone else did, smiled for the camera, and clinked glasses for a toast she couldn't remember.
When the lights finally dimmed and the crowd began to thin, she walked toward the exit. The scent of daffodils followed her, soft and lingering.
She paused once, glancing back at the glowing garden behind her — a blur of laughter and fading music.
Somewhere deep inside, something whispered that this night would matter again.
She just didn't know how yet.
And far away, in the shadows she'd glanced at before, someone else was still there — watching her disappear into the silver glow of the streetlights.
A silent observer.
A quiet beginning.