She was a sixteen year old girl who kept mostly to herself and has few friends. Life for her had been a series of routine days, each blending into the next.Until she met him.He existed in moments she didn't expect, in dreams she hadn't dared to name. They had never met, and yet somehow, he became a part of her story before it even began. But love, it seems, is not always loud. Sometimes it is quiet.......too quiet. Our last conversation hangs in my chest like an unfinished song. I asked the question that mattered most: "Am I forgiven ?" And then... nothing. Some stories end in fire, some in tears. Ours ended in silence his absence speaking louder than any reply he could have given. And still, he said nothing.