His name was Nathaniel

34

Adaliya sat at her desk, her hands trembling slightly as she ran her fingers over the sketch she had created. It was a delicate piece of art, one that symbolized something deeply personal, yet universal-young, pure love. The kind of love that consumes you completely, leaving an indelible mark no matter how much time has passed.

The drawing depicted two figures standing at the edge of a shore, their hands reaching for each other but never quite touching. Their faces were soft, innocent, full of hope and longing. The background was a wash of soft pastels, blending together like a memory fading into the distance. It was a piece that she had poured her heart into, every stroke of the pencil, every shade, representing her feelings for Nathaniel.

It had been four years, and still, she couldn't shake him. The love they had shared-brief as it was-remained with her, a constant shadow she couldn't outrun. As much as she had tried to move forward, to focus on her art, her studies, and her future, that part of her heart had never healed.

This assignment was supposed to be the culmination of her final year in art school. Each student was tasked with creating a project that represented something meaningful to them, followed by an essay where they explained the significance of their creation. For Adaliya, there was only one story to tell. Only one person who had defined what love and heartbreak meant to her.

She stared at the essay sitting next to her artwork, the words heavy on the paper. It had been painful to write, every sentence a reminder of what she had lost, of what could have been. Yet, it was also cathartic in a way. Writing about Nathaniel had allowed her to release the feelings she had bottled up for years-the hurt, the anger, the confusion. She had poured everything into it.

Now, as the day of her presentation loomed, she felt both dread and anticipation.

The following day, Adaliya stood at the front of the classroom, her art piece displayed behind her on an easel. The room was filled with students, her classmates, professors, all waiting for her to present. She could feel their eyes on her, the weight of their expectations pressing down on her shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, she began by explaining her drawing.

"This piece... represents young love. The kind of love that feels infinite in the moment but fragile at the same time. It's a love that's full of hope, but also full of uncertainty. I chose to focus on the idea of distance-not just physical, but emotional. The figures in this drawing are reaching for each other, but they aren't quite touching. It's a visual representation of love that's always just out of reach, no matter how much you want it."

She paused, her throat tightening. The room was quiet, waiting. She could feel her hands trembling again, but she clenched them at her sides, forcing herself to continue.

"The essay I wrote is personal," she began, her voice quieter now. "It's about someone I loved... someone I lost. The title is 'His Name Was Nathaniel.'"

As she spoke, her eyes fell to the words she had written, the ink smudged slightly where her fingers had rested on the page. She had rehearsed this, but the emotion was beginning to overwhelm her now that she was in front of everyone.

She began to read aloud.

"It started one summer. I was young, full of excitement and curiosity about the world. I never expected to meet someone who would change everything for me. He was... different. Closed off, mysterious, but there was a kindness in him. A gentleness that only I could see. We connected in a way I've never connected with anyone before. It was like we understood each other, even when no words were spoken."

Her voice started to shake, but she kept going.

"But as quickly as it began, it ended. He disappeared without warning, without explanation, and left me behind to wonder what went wrong. For years, I've asked myself why. Why did he leave? Why didn't he say goodbye? I thought I was over it... I thought I had moved on, but I haven't."

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the words in front of her. She tried to blink them away, but they spilled over, running down her cheeks. She could hear the silence in the room, feel the eyes on her, but she couldn't stop now.

"His absence left a hole in me, one that I've been trying to fill ever since. And no matter how hard I try, I can't. I loved him-still love him-but he's gone. And I'll never know why."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, she couldn't continue. The paper in her hands shook as she wiped at her eyes, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

"I guess... what I'm trying to say is that love isn't always beautiful. Sometimes it's messy, and painful, and it leaves you with questions that will never have answers. But even in the hurt, there's beauty. There's beauty in the way it changes you, in the way it makes you feel alive, even when it's gone."

Adaliya lowered the paper, her hands trembling, her heart racing. The room was dead silent. Her classmates and teachers stared at her, some with tears in their own eyes, others with a deep understanding of the raw emotion she had just laid bare before they all started applauding.

She had exposed her soul, and for the first time in years, she felt a small weight lift from her chest. But the hole that Nathaniel had left behind-it was still there, and she knew it always would be.