The morning after the Mahoe tree, Camila awoke to the soft rustling of leaves outside her window. Her eyes were puffy, her body heavy from the night before, and the ache in her chest hadn't dulled. The image of Anthony standing in the rain, his eyes full of regret, haunted her.
But there was no time to wallow. Exams loomed, and if there was anything she could control right now, it was her future.
Downstairs, her mom, Precela, greeted her with a warm smile, careful not to push too hard. "Eat something before you start studying," she said, placing a cup of herbal tea on the table.
Camila nodded, forcing a smile. After breakfast, she texted Julia and Tyler to finalize the study schedule. They met later that day under the old pergola at school. Julia brought flashcards and highlighters, while Tyler had his business textbooks sprawled out beside him.
Antwan joined them halfway through. His quiet glances toward Julia didn't go unnoticed. Camila found herself watching them, the tension, the unspoken words, the almosts. It was like being in a different version of her own story.
That evening, Camila walked alone to the hill behind the old mining pit. The memory came so fast it nearly knocked her breath away: she and Anthony, swaying barefoot to a silent rhythm, her head resting on his chest, the stars blinking just for them. The way he lifted her and kissed her for head loomed over her
She sat on the grass and whispered, "I miss you," to no one.
Later, she found her old sketchpad and began to draw the Mahoe tree, rain-kissed and raw, just like her heart. The silence between them grew louder by the day.
---
Anthony moved like a ghost through his schedule—culinary practicals by day, business management lectures by night. Each moment was filled to the brim with tasks, deadlines, and demands. The only quiet came when he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open.
His phone buzzed constantly, but never from Camila. That was his fault. He hadn't replied properly. Hadn't shown up. He hadn't been fair.
He thought about her constantly. About how her curls stuck to her face when it rained, about her laughter when they drove to the deep swimming hole and parked on the ridge above it . About the old container on the property where they once laid side by side, dreaming out loud.
He missed her voice. Her warmth. Her ridiculous sketches and the way she got too competitive with board games. And mobile game
After nailing a tough plating exam, he stayed behind in the empty kitchen and leaned on the counter. It was all meaningless without her. He opened his notes app and typed:
*"You're the thing I never wanted to lose. And I did. And I'm sorry. I don't even know if sorry matters anymore."*
He saved it. Didn't send it.
Why would he he made a mistake and he was living with it
(Camila's POV)**
I thrived academically that week. Each completed exam felt like reclaiming a piece of myself. Julia was often by my side, and Tyler's easy humor made the heavy days lighter.
The triangle between Julia, Antwan, and Tyler sharpened, and i could feel the weight of it. I listened, advised, observed. But my own heart remained a silent room.
I took a walk to the container one night. It was dusty and untouched, just as they'd left it. I found a blanket he'd used to wrap me in once, and a note he'd scribbled on a napkin: "Someday, you'll be the reason someone believes in magic."
I smiled. Then cried.
At home, my mother sensed my melancholy. That evening, we sat on the porch drinking tea.
"You know," mom said, "some storms are necessary. They make room for clearer skies."
I leaned my head on her mother's shoulder and sighed. For once, i allowed herself to feel it all. The anger. The love. The longing.
And then I painted. I painted the Mahoe tree, the rain, and herself beneath it. Alone, but not broken.
I had to admit it he was My epic love and he was gone he lift me and I had to accept that
Some how maybe the silence wasn't such a bad thing
Or so she thought