The semester wore on. Cean grew used to the noise of college life— passionate classroom debates, the pressure of readings, the subtle loneliness in a crowded cafeteria. Her friends were her anchor: Sky with her sharp wit, Mia and Yesha who always knew when Cean needed a snack or silence, Jer and Make who made everything feel like a sitcom.
And yet, even in the warmth of their presence, there was always a missing piece.
His name never passed her lips anymore, but it lived in her journals, hidden in metaphors and poems she never shared. "For the boy who stopped calling," she once scribbled in the margins of her notebook.
She began seeing red everywhere—in flags, in shirts, in the sky during sunset, and every time, her heart paused.
She wondered if he still wore the ring.
-
Yuan tried to focus.
Engineering was brutal, but he kept his grades up. Neo and Raphael pulled him into study groups, late-night sessions, and even walk at nights. It helped— the distractions. But on quieter days, when his schedule gave him time to breathe, Cean returned.
In fragments.
A photo from immersion, a lyric from her playlist, the time of night she used to call "the hour when the soul talks."
He hadn't opened her message history in a month. Not because he forgot—but because he hadn't forgotten.
One evening, alone in his dorm, he finally opened it again.
Cean: "You still wearing the ring?"
That was the last message. Sent weeks ago. Unread.
His chest tightened.
He clicked "read."
But he didn't reply.
-
Cean saw it the next day.
"Seen."
No words.
It was almost worse than being ignored.
Still, she didn't cry. Not right away. She just sat by the window of the library, the sun casting sharp lines across her arm, the air dry and thick with silence.
Later that night, in the privacy of her small dorm room, she did cry—not like before, not loud and desperate, but quiet. The kind of cry that left you hollow.
"You didn't even say anything," she typed, then deleted.
She placed her phone face down and stared at the ceiling.
She wondered what hurt more—the silence, or the fact that part of her still hoped.
-
Sky messaged her the next week.
Sky: "Yuan's been off lately. I don't know what's up with him. I mentioned you the other day. He got quiet."
Cean didn't respond. She didn't know what to say anymore.
Yesha noticed. "You miss him."
"I think I miss the version of him that talked to me," Cean whispered.
-
And then came the festival.
USM held a midterm celebration— music, booths, people dressed in traditional attire. Cean went with her friends, wearing a flowy dark blue dress, her hair tied loosely. She smiled, laughed, even danced with Liam and Mia.
And then she saw him.
Yuan. In red. Standing by the food stall, talking to someone. Sky was beside him.
Their eyes met.
Time froze—just for a second.
He didn't smile. Neither did she.
But he didn't look away.
And neither did she.
Then someone called his name, and he turned.
The moment ended.
-
That night, her friends teased her.
"You looked like you were about to duel or kiss," Jer snorted.
Cean laughed— a real laugh, but her eyes didn't match. "Neither," she said. "We just… saw each other. That's all."
But seeing him brought everything back. Not just the pain, but the love. The beginnings. The stupid jokes. The ring.
She touched her finger where the matching ring should have been, and whispered to herself, "He still wears it."
-
Back in his room, Yuan lay awake.
He hadn't expected to see her. Not like that. Not looking so radiant, so composed, like she had healed.
He had wanted to say something. Anything. But words felt like betrayal now. Too late. Too much.
And yet, when he saw her, his chest ached.
Neo knocked on his door. "You good?"
"Yeah," Yuan lied.
He reached for the chain under his shirt. The ring felt cold against his skin.
He thought of her favorite colors—blue, and black. Of her crying over the phone, of the ring she gave him. Of how she looked at him today like he was a memory.
And for the first time in a long while, Yuan whispered her name aloud.
"Cean."
He didn't know if it was a prayer, a question, or a goodbye.
Maybe it was all three.
'_'