Author’s Note: Heyo! This is my third piece in 2026! This is a short story written as a reflection on unrequited love, memory, and the quiet act of moving forward. At its heart, it is less about whether love is returned and more about what happens to the love that remains. People often worry that moving on means admitting something never mattered. Instead, I hope that when you read this piece, it will evoke a feeling that says, “It mattered enough to say goodbye properly.” Thank you for reading this piece and enjoy the rest of your Summer!

6 Minutes Read

Lulia sits on an oak bench, gazing at the flower garden in front of her. Beyond the garden, the afternoon sunlight lay softly over the flowers. No wind to hinder ears and eyes, just stillness.

A man approaches the bench from the side.

“Hello Lulia, may I sit here?” he asked.

“Sure! There’s plenty of room,” she nodded. “Wait a second, have we met before?”

He smiled, “Something like that.”

Lulia tilted her head slightly at that answer, though the smile on her face never fully disappeared.

“That sounds mysterious.”

“It’s not meant to.”

The man lowered himself onto the bench carefully, leaving a respectful space between them. For a while, neither of them spoke. The garden ahead of them seemed content with the silence.

Lulia drew her knees together.

“I like it here,” she said quietly. “It feels… familiar somehow.”

“It usually does.”

“Usually?”

He immediately regretted the word.

But Lulia only looked back toward the flowers.

The sunlight rested warmly against her face. She traced the outline of the flower in the air. He noticed the way she watched things, paying attention to every detail. As if every flower had said something worth hearing.

This one notices small things, he thought.

He wondered briefly how long it would take to say farewell to this one this time.

“You seem sad,” Lulia said.

“A little.”

“Did something happen?”

He let out a soft breath through his nose. “Yes.”

She waited patiently for him to continue.

When he didn’t, she asked gently: “Does it have to do with her?”

He looked over at Lulia, “You know about her already? Well, of course you would.”

“I think I do,” Lulia answered. “I don’t know how. I just… do.”

Lulia turns her head and points to the notebook in his hands. “What's that?”

“Some call it a cheat sheet. Some call it a guide. I call it, remembering the important things she told me.”

He opens the notebook. Lulia leaned closer, her eyes scanning a clean and organized page covered in neat handwriting and small sketches.

“So, this is everything? You wrote so much.”

“Yes, because everything about her was important,” he said gently.

“Tell me about one of them.”

“Oddly enough, I got to enjoy many meals with her. She likes plain hamburgers from McDonald's.”

“That is hilarious.”

“I know, and she enjoyed eating it.”

“What about this one?”

“She likes strawberry matchas, but more so the strawberry than the actual matcha. And it seems she's warming up to matcha too… I wonder if she ended up liking matcha?”

“Which one of you is the strawberry and the matcha?”

“She's the strawberry for sure… Bright and sweet. And I'm the matcha.”

“Any fun memories you wrote down?”

“Of course, like the night we went grocery shopping together,” he said, his voice dropping to a quiet, reflective tone. “I thought she was looking at the alcohol aisle, but when I turned around, she was just completely captivated by a display of cheese balls sitting right next to it. We both had a good laugh about it. It was a tiny thing, but it was just so... her.”

“Aww, you're both so silly.”

“One of my all-time favorites was when she told me I had a great laugh. She loved saying ‘Do It Again!’ Whenever she saw something she liked.”

“Really? That loud and obnoxious laugh?”

“Yup, that very same one. And really, I could go on, and on about every detail I noticed: Hex, Jeb, Chompers, B, Edward…”
​
Lulia watched him carefully, the warm afternoon light resting against her face. She looked down at the notebook, then back at the garden… She wasn’t smiling anymore.
​
“She sounds wonderful,” Lulia said, her voice dropping to a gentle whisper. “You must love her very much.”

​“I do.”
​
“Then why do you look like you’re saying goodbye?” Lulia asked, her fingers lightly tensing against her lap. “You call it moving on because you're afraid to call it losing them.”
​
“How can I call it losing them when we were never together?”
​
“Then you keep talking about leaving like we ever arrived anywhere,” Lulia countered. Her voice wasn't sharp; it was just a quiet, aching truth echoing in the stillness.
​
He turned his head to look at her fully, taking in the soft, sad lines of her face… the face of his own heart. “You are right. We never did arrive anywhere… and that's okay. I got to be happy. And maybe we can’t lose what we never possessed. But that doesn’t mean the walk wasn’t worth it, Lulia. Even if this love never becomes real, I promise your existence mattered.”
​
Lulia’s shoulders dropped. The tension left her, and she leaned back against the oak bench, looking out at the stationary flowers.
​
“I know,” she said quietly. “And yet, I want to stay.”

The man stood up from the oak bench carefully, as if trying not to disturb the absolute stillness of the afternoon.
​He looked down at the neatly organized notebook in his hand; the clean pages, the small sketches, the words he had been so terrified of losing. Then, with a gentle, steady hand, he placed it on Lulia's lap.
​
Lulia looked down at it, her fingers brushing the cover. “You're leaving it?”
​
“It belongs here,” he said softly. “With you. You’re the only one who truly knows how to take care of it.”
​
Lulia looked up at him, the warm sunlight catching the soft lines of her face. She didn't argue. She just held the notebook close to her chest and leaned back against the bench, looking out at the flowers.

“You know it will be lonely, are you okay with that?”
​
“I will be lonely,” she whispered, opening the first page. “But I’ll have plenty to read. Maybe one day I can tell you all about it.”
​
He smiled, taking his first step backward, away from the garden path. “I would love to hear that one day. And if that doesn't happen... If I get to where we go, I will let them know of you.”

Lulia smiled.

"Then, don't forget."

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.