“ I believe everything happens for a reason. ”
***
Two weeks later,
— Cecile —
I was in class when my phone buzzed with a notification from my agent.
Dear Cecile,
Your poem has been published in our magazine. You can check it out on our website or get a copy of it at the bookstore.
Such simple words, yet the joy that surged through me was indescribable. It felt almost too beautiful to be true.
I turned to glance at Joel, who had been distant and quiet over the past few days. 
At first, we’d exchanged glances—sometimes I even caught him staring at me with those deep sea-blue eyes. 
But now? We’d drifted so far apart, I found myself questioning if we had ever truly been close. The truth is, it didn’t seem like it anymore.
“We dreamt of this, Joel,” I whispered to myself. Despite our friendship lasting just over two months, we’d shared so many dreams and aspirations. This was one of them.
For the first time, I yearned to tell him how I felt.
I wished I had the courage to walk over to him, just a few seats away, and say, “I got an agent, Joel. I really did.”
But I couldn’t. And it hurts.
***
Break time,
I had just picked up my sandwich when I sensed someone’s presence and looked up. To my surprise, it was Karen—one of the top students in the commercial department.
Though I had admired her from a distance, I never found the nerve to approach her. Rumors swirled about her being proud, and while I didn’t believe in gossip, sometimes it’s hard not to let it influence you.
“Hey,” She greeted me with a smile.
“Hi,” I replied curtly, unsure how to respond.
“You’re Cecile Gray, right?” I was tempted to ask how she knew that, but I simply nodded. “Yeah.”
“I knew it.” She nodded, almost excitedly. “ I read your poem in Lover’s Touch magazine.”
“Really?” For the first time, I felt lightheaded, and the conversation suddenly became easier. I guess that’s how it feels when you meet someone who appreciates your work.
“Yeah.” She hesitated. “Can I sit?” It was then I realized I’d forgotten my manners in my excitement and mentally facepalmed. “Of course.”
“I really connected with your poem.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. It felt like she wanted to share something deeply personal but wasn’t sure if she could trust me. And honestly, she didn’t owe me that—just because I was a writer didn’t mean I was a psychologist.
I took a bite of my chicken sandwich as I waited for her to continue. For some reason, it tasted better than usual, maybe because I was finally feeling lighter after two weeks of heartache.
“You’re brave, Cecile.” Her words made my heart soar, and I found myself overwhelmed with emotion.
“Thank you.” I wanted to admit that I didn’t feel brave at all—that I’d just been trying to distract myself from Joel’s sudden disappearance, even though it had been over two weeks since we last spoke.
“Yeah…” She hesitated again, her sniffles giving away how much she was holding back. It was almost as though she was about to tell me a secret she wasn’t sure she should.
“I was in a relationship with a guy for two years. He was everything to me—my support system, the one who always listened and gave me a shoulder to cry on.”
Without thinking, I reached across the table and held her hand. 
“But one day, I got a call that he’d been in a car accident... and he didn’t make it.”
My heart clenched. I couldn’t even imagine the depth of her pain. Even though Joel and I had only known each other for a little over two months, I knew how devastated I would be if anything ever happened to him.
“We weren’t speaking at the time—over a silly argument. My phone was full of missed calls and unread messages from him.”
The raw emotion in her eyes was unmistakable, impossible to ignore.
“His last message to me said, ‘You are my world, Karen. I love you, and I always will.’ How do I move on from that?”
I knew what I had to do. Rising from my seat, I wrapped her in a hug, and she broke down almost immediately, her tears soaking my shoulder.
I was grateful for the quiet, mostly empty cafeteria—a place that always seemed to offer me peace. “He was only nineteen,” she whispered, and the words echoed in my mind. My sister had been sixteen when she left, Jemmy was fifteen, and Joel… Joel is nineteen.
“It’s been six months, but the pain still feels fresh.” 
I understood. Though my sister passed away two years ago, the wound hadn’t healed. I often wondered if it ever would. Someone once told me that the pain of losing someone never fades; you just learn to live with it.
We stayed like that until the bell rang for the fifth period.
“Cecile,” Karen’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. “I’ve never told anyone outside my family about this… you’re the first.”
Her words filled me with an unexpected sense of peace and comfort.
“Thank you for listening,” she said quietly.
I gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It was my pleasure.”
“You’re an incredible writer, Cecile. Your work inspires people. Don’t ever stop writing.”
“I won’t,” I replied, smiling softly. I hugged her once more before we parted ways.
Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.
---
A/N: What do you think, guys?