The sound of the speakers pulsed faintly in my ears, echoing like the heartbeat of a place that has carried so many memories—some loud, some quiet, and some that will never make it past my lips.
I sat still in my seat, letting the noise wash over me like waves I didn’t want to drown in.
Today wasn’t an ordinary Sunday.
It was our last program of the year—our final gathering before we all scatter for the summer like petals from a flower no longer in bloom.
The campus, usually quieter on weekends, now buzzes with life.
Every corner of the university brimmed with students from all departments.
Laughter erupted in bursts, footsteps hurried by, and the breeze carried the scent of sweat, excitement, and goodbye.
But all I could think about was how good it would feel to sleep later when I get home.
I let my tired eyes wander—watching students in groups, some in uniform, some in colored shirts representing their courses.
The activity center in front of me was alive with music and movement.
A group of dancers performed under the stage lights, their energy pulling screams and giggles from the crowd.
I watched their joy like I was behind glass—present, but distant.
I wasn’t exactly sad.
Just... aware. Aware that this was the kind of day you’d want to pause and replay again someday.
I knew I’d miss this—just a little.
Maybe more than I thought.
I let out a laugh under my breath when I saw my classmates on the side, joining in the cheering, waving their hands in the air like they had no care in the world.
Their happiness felt contagious, and it made me smile.
Then, as I turned my head to glance around once more, something caught my eye—a group of boys, standing a little apart from the crowd.
The color of their shirts... familiar.
My heart skipped.
I sat up straighter, eyes narrowing in curiosity. And there he was.
Rizal.
Like a chapter I thought I’d already finished reading.
It had been a while since I last saw him, but I knew that posture, that calm, observant expression, and the way he held his camera like it was part of him.
He was surrounded by his usual group, all laughing at something one of them said. And then—there she was.
That girl again.
The same one who always managed to find her way into his orbit.
She smiled at him, naturally, effortlessly, like they spoke in a language only the two of them could understand.
They chatted, the music from the stage playing behind them like a soundtrack written just for their scene.
I didn’t mean to stare, but I did.
What are they talking about?
Why does it seem so easy for her?
There was a sting, a soft ache I thought I had already outgrown.
When she waved goodbye and walked away, a tiny smile tugged at my lips.
Maybe I shouldn’t have cared—but I did.
Now, it was just him and his friends again, standing by the stage, swaying slightly to the beat.
Then his eyes started to roam the crowd. My breath caught in my throat.
I froze.
Was he looking my way?
No.
Maybe.
Who cares?
Why do I care?
I looked away too quickly, flustered.
A familiar warmth bloomed in my cheeks.
I thought I was done feeling shy around him? Didn’t I already set him free from the title of my crush?
But there it was again—that flutter of nerves, like I was fourteen all over again.
I glanced back—just once—and his eyes shifted.
They landed somewhere near me, but I didn't dare assume.
Why should I? He didn’t know me.
He didn’t know that for two and a half years, someone quietly admired him from the sidelines.
That someone noticed the way he walked, the way he smiled, and how gentle he looked behind that lens.
He didn’t know I once called him the boy I’d never reach.
And maybe it’s better that way.
I stared at him longer than I should have, studying the way he moved, how neat and polished he always looked—like he stepped out of a different world.
A world I could only glance into from across the crowd.
He’s so far away, I thought. Too far for me to ever touch.
And yet, I smiled.
Because sometimes, the distance keeps things beautiful.
Maybe if I had known him closer, I would’ve seen the flaws.
Maybe not.
Maybe he’s just meant to be one of those passing people—beautiful to watch, impossible to reach, unforgettable even without a single word exchanged.
I let out a sigh—half-laughing at myself.
This would be the last time I’d see him, at least for now.
Summer is here, and with it, a promise I made to myself: no more crushes.
Not for now.
Not until I learn to be whole on my own, not until I stop chasing attention like it’s the only water I need.
I’m still young.
Still learning.
Still tempted to dream too much and love too quickly.
But I’m trying.
I want to focus on myself—not because I don’t believe in love, but because I’m learning to believe in me.
Two and a half years of admiration from a distance.
And yes, I’ll admit it—it still gives me goosebumps.
But I’m ready to walk away from it now, quietly, gracefully.
I tore my gaze from him, knowing that if I stared any longer, I might do something ridiculous.
Like fall again. Or worse—laugh and cry at the same time. Or maybe punch him for being so... breathtaking.
(Just kidding)
I closed my eyes for a second, breathing in the moment.
And then I whispered softly in my heart:
"Thank You, Lord."
Thank You for getting us through this year. Thank You for the friendships, for the lessons, for the little heartbreaks that taught us how to grow. Thank You for protecting us, for guiding us, for the wisdom You give us even when we feel lost.
I couldn’t have made it through this school year without You.
So here I am—grateful, laughing, still healing, and finally letting go.
And that, I think, is more than enough.
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NonfiksiLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
