The sky didn't change.
Morning came like it always did — brushing the city in soft gold, pushing away the velvet shadows of the night. But it felt wrong.
Because she wasn't there.
No knock on the rooftop door.
No silver hair dancing in the breeze.
No voice saying my name like a memory unraveling.
Just the ordinary quiet of a world that didn't know what it had lost.
---
I went to school. I sat through class. I stared at the chalkboard like it was written in a language I'd never learned.
I wasn't here. My body might've been in that cold plastic chair, but my mind… it was still with her.
With **Aurelia**.
With the way her name sounded like a starlight prayer and a farewell all at once.
---
"Hey," my friend Rui nudged me during lunch. "You good?"
I blinked. "Yeah."
"No, you're not. You've been staring at your untouched curry bread like it insulted your entire family."
I managed a weak laugh. "Just tired."
"Nightmares again?"
"No…" I paused. "Worse."
He looked at me, confused, but didn't press.
Because how could I explain?
How could I tell him I was in love with a girl who only existed when the stars were watching… and who might never come back?
---
When the final bell rang, I didn't go straight home. My legs took me elsewhere — not because I wanted to, but because they already knew where I needed to be.
The hill.
The one where the city looked small and the sky looked endless.
It was where she and I first stood in complete silence, sharing a world that no one else could see.
And now… I stood there alone.
---
A gust of wind blew. I closed my eyes, hoping to feel something of her in it — a whisper, a trace, a warmth.
Nothing.
But then—
A soft, crisp fluttering sound.
I opened my eyes.
A **paper crane**. Pale silver. Caught on a branch just a few steps ahead.
I walked over, heart pounding like a storm. My fingers shook as I reached for it.
Inside, in delicate handwriting that swirled like moonlight, were the words:
> *"If tomorrow forgets us… will your heart still remember me?"*
---
I read the note over and over until my eyes burned.
She had been here.
She *was* here.
Even if just long enough to leave this behind.
Even if just long enough to ask the question I didn't know how to answer.
---
Night fell slowly.
I stayed on that hill, holding the paper crane like a relic from a dream I didn't want to wake from.
And when the stars returned… so did she.
---
She stepped into view like a reflection in water — slow, unreal, breathtaking.
Her feet made no sound on the grass. Her hair shimmered under the moonlight, but her eyes… her eyes were different tonight.
Like they had already cried in a place I couldn't reach.
"You came back," I whispered.
She nodded. "Only because I hadn't said goodbye properly."
"Don't say it then," I replied. "Don't say goodbye. Not tonight. Not ever."
She looked away.
"I wish I could promise that."
---
We sat down together, just like always — side by side under the sky that never judged, never questioned, just listened.
"I left the crane for you," she said. "I didn't know if you'd find it."
"I did."
"Did you answer it?"
I looked at her.
"Honestly? I still don't know how."
She smiled softly. "That's okay. Some questions are meant to stay open. Like windows."
---
There was a silence again, but it wasn't cold.
It was like the pause before a melody — holding its breath, waiting for the right note.
And then she said something I'll never forget.
---
"Do you know what I fear the most?" she asked.
I shook my head.
She turned toward me.
"Not fading. Not disappearing. Not even forgetting…"
She placed a hand on her chest.
"I'm afraid that I'll live on in your memory… but only as a sadness."
---
That shattered something in me.
I reached for her hand. For once, she didn't pull away.
"You are not my sadness," I said. "You're the night sky that showed me the stars. You're the silence that finally made sense. You're…"
My voice cracked.
"You're the reason I believe in something more."
---
Her eyes glistened. She didn't speak — she didn't have to. The way she held my hand was louder than any words she could've given.
We sat there like that for what felt like forever.
Two souls on a hill.
One fading star.
One trying to memorize the sky.
---
"I want to give you something," she said, suddenly.
She stood, reaching into the inside of her long coat.
She pulled out a small velvet pouch — pale blue, tied with a thread that looked like it was made of starlight.
"This is…"
"A wish," she said.
I stared at her, stunned.
"I only have one. And I want you to have it."
I took it gently, like it would break if I breathed too hard.
"But why?"
She looked at me with those moon-pool eyes.
"Because someday, when I'm gone, and the world feels too heavy… I want you to know you still carry something magical. Something that came from me."
---
My fingers tightened around the pouch.
I didn't want this to be a goodbye.
I didn't want this to be the end.
But the way she looked at the stars told me… the clock had already started ticking.
---
She stepped closer.
One hand reached up and brushed the hair from my forehead. Her fingers lingered, gentle as snowfall.
And then — she leaned in.
Not a kiss.
Not quite.
Just a closeness.
Her forehead touching mine. Eyes closed. Like we were sharing a secret too fragile to speak aloud.
And in that breathless space between us, she whispered:
**"If you ever forget me… look at the stars. I'll be the one blinking back."**
---
And just like that… she turned and walked away.
No final wave. No dramatic farewell.
Just her silhouette, fading slowly into the horizon.
And me — standing there, heart full of silence, holding a starlight wish that I didn't know how to use.
---
That night, the stars felt closer than ever.
And lonelier, too.
Because I had met someone who made the sky feel like home.
And now, every time I look up…
I'm still looking for her.