Elia sat in her room, surrounded by pages.
Sketches. Letters. Torn corners.
Moments she had archived.
Memories she had survived.
It had been months since Kael's message.
Months since the rooftop.
Months since Luca's quiet love began to fill the spaces Kael left behind.
But tonight felt different.
She wasn't sad.
She wasn't angry.
She was ready.
She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.
Not the usual kind.
Thicker. Textured.
The kind she saved for something final.
She sharpened her pencil.
Lit a candle.
Played the playlist she made for herself—the one with no Kael songs, no heartbreak ballads, just soft piano and lyrics that felt like healing.
Then she began to draw.
Not a person.
Not a place.
A story.
She started with a girl.
Alone.
Sitting on a rooftop, knees tucked to her chest, eyes turned to the moon.
She added stars—some fading, some glowing.
She added a sketchpad beside her, pages fluttering in the wind.
She added a phone, screen dark, no messages waiting.
Then she drew the moon.
Not full.
Not broken.
Just… paused.
She shaded it with silver ink.
Outlined it with gold.
Because even when the moon forgets to wait, it still returns.
She added a second version of the girl.
Same rooftop.
Same moon.
But this time, she was standing.
Hair loose.
Eyes open.
Sketchpad in hand.
She was drawing herself.
Not the version that waited.
Not the version that cried.
The version that healed.
Elia paused.
Her fingers trembled.
Not from pain.
From release.
She added Luca.
Not beside her.
Just nearby.
Watching.
Respecting.
Holding space.
She added Kael.
Far in the background.
Fading.
Not erased.
Just… distant.
She added a final detail:
A torn letter floating in the wind.
Unsent.
Unspoken.
Unnecessary.
Then she signed it.
Not with her name.
With a phrase she had written in her journal months ago:
> "I survived. And I turned it into art."
She stared at the sketch for a long time.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was honest.
She didn't cry.
She didn't smile.
She just felt… whole.
She placed the sketch in her portfolio.
Not to hide it.
To honor it.
Because this wasn't just a drawing.
It was a goodbye.
To Kael.
To the version of herself that waited.
To the ache that once felt endless.
She lit another candle.
Opened her window.
Let the breeze carry the scent of closure.
Then she wrote one last journal entry:
> "I loved.
> I lost.
> I waited.
> I healed.
> I glowed.
> And I never needed him to see it.
> Because I saw it in myself."
She closed the journal.
Turned off the music.
And slept peacefully.
Because the moon didn't forget her.
It just needed time.
And so did she.