The entrance exams came and went in a blur.
Leia buried herself in her studies, pushing aside all distractions, all emotions—everything except her determination to do well. She told herself that once the exams were over, once the weight of endless revision and late-night cramming sessions was finally lifted, she would have the courage to tell Nathan how she felt.
It was the only thing that kept her going.
The day of the graduation ceremony arrived, bringing with it an atmosphere of bittersweet celebration. The school was alive with excitement—students in their uniforms for the last time, taking photos, exchanging yearbooks, and scribbling farewell messages filled with promises to stay in touch. Laughter rang through the halls, and teachers gave nostalgic speeches about the bright futures awaiting them.
Leia clutched her yearbook close to her chest, scanning the crowd with a nervous anticipation that made her heart race. She had imagined this moment so many times. She had played out every possible scenario in her head—how she would walk up to Nathan, how she would call his name, how she would finally let go of her fears and tell him the words she had been keeping inside for so long.
But he was nowhere to be found.
At first, she told herself that maybe he was just running late. Nathan wasn't the type to skip something as important as graduation. He was responsible, meticulous—he had been working so hard for this day.
But as the ceremony went on, as names were called and certificates were handed out, the sinking feeling in her stomach grew heavier.
Nathan never came.
Leia's fingers tightened around the yearbook. Her eyes darted through the sea of students, hoping—praying—to see his familiar figure, but all she found were unfamiliar faces, smiling and laughing as they celebrated their last day of high school.
Her heart pounded. This wasn't like him.
After the ceremony, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the schoolyard buzzed with students taking their final photos together, Leia could no longer ignore the unease gnawing at her. Without thinking twice, she grabbed her things and headed straight for the café.
Maybe he was there. Maybe he had skipped the ceremony to help his mother. Maybe she would find him in his usual spot, sleeves rolled up, taking orders or wiping down tables.
But when she arrived, the sight before her stopped her dead in her tracks.
The café was closed.
There was no welcoming glow from the lights inside, no faint hum of conversation, no comforting scent of tea and warm food drifting from the door. The place that had once been so full of life was now eerily silent.
And then she saw it.
A sign on the door.
"Permanently Closed."
Leia stared at it, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.
Closed? Why? What happened?
Her hands trembled as she reached out and lightly pressed her palm against the cold glass of the door, as if that would somehow bring her closer to an answer. But there was nothing—no explanation, no note, nothing to tell her where Nathan or his mother had gone.
She took a step back, her chest tightening with an emotion she couldn't quite name.
Disappointment. Confusion.
Loss.
What was supposed to be a day of endings and new beginnings had turned into something else entirely.
Nathan had vanished from her life without a single word.
Days passed. Then weeks.
Summer faded, and university began. Life moved forward, dragging Leia along with it, even as she found herself glancing at the café every time she walked by, hoping—somehow—that the sign would be gone, that the doors would be open again, that she would see Nathan inside, just as he had always been.
But the café remained dark. Silent. Empty.
And Nathan never returned.
Leia carried his absence like an ache in her heart.
She often wondered what she would have said to him that day. How he would have reacted. Would he have been surprised? Would he have smiled? Would he have rejected her, or would he have reached out and held onto the feelings she had guarded for so long?
She would never know.
Some things, once left unsaid, remain forever unanswered.