It's been a month.
No sign of her. No voice. No trace. Nothing.
I kept going back to the places we'd been — the pond, the cliff, the old rooftop, the edge of the ocean — thinking maybe I'd find her waiting there.
But every time, it was just me waiting for her.
I started to wonder if she left, or just something my heart made up when it got too quiet.
Only one thing made me feel like she was real —
the black rose on my window.
I didn't see who left it.
No message. No name. Just the flower.
And maybe it's stupid, but I've been taking care of it like it's the last piece of her I've got.
Some part of me still believes… she left it.
I didn't mean to start writing again —
it just happened.
One moment I was staring at the rose,
and the next, there was a pen in my hand.
Just a few lines. Nothing special.
But it had been six years since I wrote anything at all.
---
[Knocking on the door.]
"Who's there?" I called out.
[Another knock.]
I rushed over — hoping it was her.
But it wasn't.
It was Noah.
My oldest friend. The only person who was always with me.
We stepped in, He looked around at the mess on the table, then at me.
"So... where were you yesterday?" he asked, casual but watching.
"Nowhere. Why do you ask."
He smirked
"You didn't happen to go to the lantern festival, did you?"
"You saw me, didn't you?"
He laughed and pulled me into a hug.
"You really thought I wouldn't notice? I'm proud of you, man."
He noticed the page on the table, reached for it.
I blocked his hand. We struggled for it — playfully — like old times.
He won. Read it. Smiled as bright as the sun.
The second-best smile in the world.
The first ofcourse belongs to her.
"You're writing again," he said. "It's been what — six years?"
"Just one piece," I said. "I was bored."
"No way. This isn't boredom. This feels… different."
"Someone inspired you, didn't they?"
I just smiled and looked away.
"Come on," I said. "You want to see something interesting?"
"What are you, ten?" Noah replied
"Do you want to come or not?" I asked calmly
Noah in a excited manner "Lead me, brother."
---
I took him to the pond behind the old shrine.
The place where I first sat with her. Where everything started.
We sat by the water, tossing crumbs to the swans.
The same peaceful stillness surrounded us.
"Why don't you live with us?" Noah asked. "You don't have to be so alone all the time."
"That house... it's all I have left of them.
My parents, my memories. I'm not ready to leave that behind."
He nodded slowly.
Noah smiled "Still… maybe it's time to start living again. You're smiling more."
"Don't get used to it," I said, half-smiling.
"Write more. You're better when you write."
"Maybe. But only if someone asks me to." I said in a calm manner
He looked at me curiously but didn't ask who.
"Wanna get dinner? Like the old days?" I asked calmly
Noah smiled "Sure. Whatever you want."
---
We spent the rest of the day doing nothing just walking around, talking, laughing like we hadn't in years.
It felt lighter. Like I could breathe a little more.
Maybe it was the sea breeze.
Maybe it was Noah.
But I knew deep down… it was the Sofia effect.
That night, like always,
I sat on the terrace alone stargazing just me and that single black rose.
I still didn't know who left it.
But I hoped it was her.
And when I got up to go back inside,
a soft breeze passed by — warm, gentle.
Hugged me tight
And for a second,
I could've sworn she was in the wind.
Or maybe if she was the wind.
---