“ Sometimes, we simply have to let go and let God, to be truly happy and fulfilled. ”
***
— Cecile —
It was an ordinary Saturday when I received my first truly heartwarming message from a follower of my blog. The message read:
Dear Cecile,
I’ve been following your posts for over a month, and truthfully, I relate to you in ways I never expected. Unrequited love is brutal. I never thought I’d fall victim to it, but then I met someone I instantly connected with, only to find out months later that he only saw me as a friend. To distance myself from the pain, I decided to take a break from him, hoping I could let go. But it’s hard. I’ve grown so attached to him that being apart is unbearable. Every day, I find myself wondering if he ever thinks of me at all. But then, reality hits me—he probably doesn’t, because why would he? He’s surrounded by so many beautiful women, so why would he care about me?
Your posts have always made me feel seen and understood in ways no one else has. When I read your poems, it’s as if you’re sitting beside me, experiencing everything with me. It’s comforting, especially for someone like me who’s not used to receiving love and attention. Maybe that’s why I always settle for less.
Thank you for being so open, Cecile. 
I love you.
---
Reading those words brought tears to my eyes. Since starting my blog, I’ve received all sorts of feedback. Some people think I overshare, act too emotional, or pretend like I’m the only one in the world going through heartache. 
But Joel’s rejection—it meant something. Something I couldn’t understand at first, but now, after reflecting, I’ve realized why. It’s not just about him. It’s about something deeper. 
***
I was about to respond when my phone pinged with a message from Dad.
“ Honey, can we hang out today? Maybe around 5 PM? ”
I smiled softly, knowing he was treading carefully. We hadn’t been close since the divorce and his remarriage. I didn’t hold it against him, but it still felt strange sharing him with someone who wasn’t Mom or my sister.
“ Sure, ” I replied, and he responded almost immediately, as if he’d been anxiously waiting for my answer.
“Great. Let’s meet at our usual place?”
The mention of “ our usual place ” triggered a wave of nostalgia. It had been Celine’s favorite spot. She loved it, and because of that, I had grown to love it too… but now?
I shook off the thoughts and went to change clothes. 
Mom was at the dining table, quietly serving lunch. Ever since my sister’s death, she had withdrawn more and more into herself, getting a part-time job that required little stress, as she put it.
“Hey, Mom,” I said.
She looked up with a small, tired smile. “Hi.”
I sat down, accepting the awkward silence that had become our norm. Bacon and eggs with a cup of milk—healthy, simple. We ate without speaking, and though I had so much I wanted to say, I kept it to myself. She wouldn’t understand. Or maybe she would, but we never talked enough to find out.
As we finished, I stood to leave. “I’m meeting Dad at 5,” I told her.
She paused, her expression unreadable. “Okay,” was all she said, and I felt a familiar frustration rising at her one-word answers. I missed the Mom who had once been so full of life.
***
“So, how’s the new school?” Dad asked as we sat together.
I glanced at him—still youthful, even in his late forties. I’d once joked he must be an alchemist, someone who never aged.
“It’s good,” I answered with a polite smile, unsure of what else to add.
He chuckled. “Your uncle mentioned something about a boy who’s caught your eye.” 
I cringed. Of course, my uncle couldn’t keep that to himself.
“Cecile? Are you listening?” Dad’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts.
“Yeah…”
“So, tell me about him.”
I sighed, unsure how to put it into words. Dad had always been someone I could talk to about anything, but things had changed after Celine’s death and the divorce.
“I… developed feelings for him. But he didn’t feel the same, so we haven’t spoken in a while.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but thinking about Joel made my heart ache all over again. Will it ever stop hurting?
“Did you talk to him about it?” Dad asked, ever straightforward.
The question stirred something deep inside me, a longing for the times we used to share. “Cecile?” His voice was soft, full of compassion. I looked up at him, and for the first time in a long while, I saw the father I used to know.
Without thinking, I stood up and threw my arms around him. And I cried. Really cried. It had been so long since I’d let myself feel all of this—missing my sister, wishing Mom was emotionally available, wishing everything hadn’t changed so much.
“I miss you, Dad,” I whispered.
“I miss you more, doll.” His voice cracked with emotion. It reminded me of when he’d call Celine and me his two precious dolls, the best things in his life. I missed that. I missed him.
And before I could stop myself, the words I had held back for nearly two years tumbled out. “I love you, Dad.”
“Oh, baby,” he said, his voice raw with feeling as he hugged me tighter. “ I love you too, Cec. ”
Hearing him say my nickname brought back a flood of memories of my sister, and once again, I cried. But this time, it wasn’t just from sadness. It was a release. A reunion I hadn’t realized I needed so badly.
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A/N: What do you think, guys?