It had been weeks.
Weeks since the fight.
Weeks since the silence.
Weeks since Elia stopped checking his stories, stopped replaying his voice notes, stopped hoping for a message that would never come.
She was healing. Slowly. Quietly.
Sketching again. Sleeping better.
Learning how to breathe without him.
Then she saw him.
It was a random afternoon. A campus event. Crowded, noisy, forgettable—until he walked in.
Same hoodie. Same walk. Same Kael.
Her heart didn't race.
It froze.
He didn't see her at first.
She was standing near the back, clutching her sketchpad like a shield.
He laughed at something his friend said.
Then he turned.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second.
Just long enough for her to know he saw her.
But not long enough for him to care.
He looked away.
No smile.
No nod.
No "hey."
Just… nothing.
She felt it like a slap.
Not because he ignored her.
But because he didn't even hesitate.
She watched him move through the crowd, talking, laughing, living.
Like she was never part of his story.
Like she was just another face in the blur.
She didn't cry.
She didn't run.
She just stood there, letting the moment carve itself into her memory.
Because this was closure.
Not the kind you ask for.
The kind you witness.
He didn't look for her.
Not in the crowd.
Not in the quiet.
Not in the way he used to.
And maybe that was the answer she'd been waiting for.
She left early.
Walked home with her headphones in, playing a song she used to skip because it reminded her of him.
This time, she let it play.
She got home, opened her sketchpad, and drew.
Not him.
Not the rooftop.
Just a girl standing in a crowd, unseen but unbroken.
Because healing isn't loud.
It's subtle.
It's seeing someone you loved and realizing you don't need them to see you anymore.