Chapter 2
Lena stood quietly in front of the drawing—the one that looked so much like her younger self, drifting in and out of dream with her head on Eli's shoulder. The memory struck her all at once. She had forgotten that moment. Or maybe she had just buried it, tucked away in the folds of time like an old letter.
But Eli hadn't. He had kept it, honored it, transformed it into art.
She moved through the rest of the exhibit slowly. Each image struck a different chord—moments she hadn't realized meant anything, now elevated into something eternal. And she couldn't deny it: a part of her was moved. Deeply. This was a kind of love she hadn't known she'd inspired.
She looked back at Eli. He wasn't looking at her. He was watching the crowd, hands in his pockets, like a man trying not to hope.
She made her way over to him.
"Eli," she said gently. "This is... it's beautiful. I didn't realize."
He turned, his eyes searching hers. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I just never found the right moment. And then suddenly, too many years had gone by."
She nodded, her smile bittersweet. "I used to wonder about you, back in school. You always seemed like you were in your own world. I guess I didn't know how close that world was to mine."
He chuckled softly, sadness threaded through the sound. "It always was."
Lena sighed, shifting her purse on her shoulder. "I wish I could go back and change things. Maybe if I'd known..."
"But we don't get to rewrite the past," he finished for her.
"No," she agreed. "We don't."
A silence settled between them, full of the weight of what might've been. Then she touched his arm, light and brief. "I'm happy now. I think I've found something good. But I hope you know... this means something to me. You mean something to me."
He nodded, eyes soft. "That's enough."
And it was.
They said goodbye outside the gallery. She walked to her car. He watched her go.
That night, she lay beside her boyfriend, eyes open in the dark. Her thoughts drifted not with longing, but with quiet gratitude—for the boy who had seen her when she didn't know she needed to be seen. For a love that was silent, patient, and kind.
Some loves come and go. Some stay buried. And some, like Eli's, never ask to be returned—they only ask to be remembered.