“ What will you do with your pain? Will you let it break you or shape you into someone stronger? ”
***
“I know it’s hurting, Cec. But you have to decide what you'll do with your pain,” Stella’s message read. It was midnight on a school day, and being online, chatting, was the last thing I expected. But here I was.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want it to break you, or do you want it to make you a better person?”
“Um...” I paused, letting the question sink in.
“Can I ask you something personal?” Her message made my heart skip a beat. At first, I wanted to decline, but then I realized—what could be more personal than what we were already discussing?
“Sure.”
“What did you do when you lost your sister? How did you cope with the pain?”
“Celine Grayson…” Her name weighed heavily on my mind. I’d always heard of grief, but I hadn’t truly understood it until I lost her. The moment she took her last breath, with my hands holding hers and my eyes locked on her beautiful face, I knew the days ahead would be brutal—and they were.
“The pain was unbearable,” I typed back, feeling the ache resurface. At first, I denied it. Then came the grief, panic attacks, and bouts of anger.
I felt shattered. Celine was my everything, a piece of my soul that I knew I could never replace. When she left, I knew I’d never find another like her.
“I know… but you managed to cope somehow, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, through writing and painting.” A small smile crept up as I remembered locking myself in my parents’ study for hours, pouring my heart onto paper. They were worried but knew it was my way of grieving, just as they grieved in their own ways.
“What did you write and paint about?”
“Her.” A simple word, yet it held so much—she was my other half, my sister, my best friend, my confidant, my twin.
“Did it hurt?”
“Yeah…” Reliving those memories was painful. Many suggested letting go, but I knew I had to go through the grief. I needed to remember every moment, every detail, because she was the first person I reached out to, apart from my mom.
“But it helped,” I added.
“Okay, I want you to do the same for Joel.” Her words made my heart race.
“Grieve him while he’s still alive?”
“Not quite. Grieve the friendship—the memories, the hopes, and the dreams you had for it.”
“Wow… I never thought of it that way. It sounds… absurd.”
“I know, but it works…” I could sense her speaking from experience.
“You did the same for Jemmy, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I’m still in the process. It’s only been five months since we lost her.”
“Do you think Joel is grieving too?”
“Yeah, more than we might realize.” Her response made me sigh again. Why does it feel like we’re all grieving something? Is it just the people I know, or is everyone out there mourning a lost friendship, a broken relationship, or a loss?
“We’ll be okay.”
“Yeah…”
***
A few days later, I was in the library, studying for the upcoming tests when Joel walked in. He didn’t even look my way.
“What was I expecting?” I thought as he took a seat at the far end of the row. He pulled out his study materials and got to work.
This had become our norm, but today, the memory of how close we once were hit me harder than usual. It hurt—deeply.
Will I have to get used to this? I keep telling myself that it will be okay, that I need to focus on my studies and writing. I know it’s the right thing to do, but knowing is one thing—doing is another.
I’m reminded of the days when we did everything together, so close that rumors spread about us dating. My uncle even called me once to ask about him, to warn me. I wish I’d listened back then, but maybe I was already too far gone.
And now?
Weeks have passed, and I have to watch Joel carry on like nothing ever happened.
“He’s a loner, Cec. Once he decides to stop caring, he just does…” Stella had told me recently. But I couldn’t believe that. Didn’t he miss me? Didn’t he miss our time together?
I’ve been watching more videos about relationships and heartbreak lately. “Do they help?” Essy asked once, catching me in the middle of one.
“I guess, yeah…” I had answered with a bitter smile, knowing she must wonder how I could be so attached to a guy who never even said, “I love you.” It sounds foolish, but it’s the truth.
We never dated, and that made everything worse.
Watching him move on, as if I meant nothing, hurts more than I can handle.
“Do you even miss me, Joel?” I whispered to myself, tears slipping down my cheeks before I could wipe them away. At that moment, Joel looked up, and our eyes met. Time seemed to stand still.
***
—Joel—
She’s crying again. I can see it in her eyes. I’ve hurt her so much that I doubt she’d forgive me, even if I tried to apologize.
I know she’s been watching me, paying attention to my every move. It’s always been that way—her fascination with everything I do.
She’s like an adoring fan who can’t let go.
I wish it were that easy—to just walk up to her and say I’m sorry. Sorry for causing her pain, for making her feel abandoned.
But I can’t. What would I even say?
The pain in her eyes reminds me of Jemmy—of the day she told me about her illness right after I confessed my feelings for her.
We grew closer, understanding each other more deeply after that.
But this?
I forced myself to look away. “Cecile, if only you knew how precious you are… I’m not worthy of your love. Move on from me, please.” The words flowed onto the paper, capturing my deepest wish.
“I’m not as perfect as you think… I’ve got my demons, ones too dark to share. So please, move on from me.”
I folded the note and slipped it into her locker before heading back to my seat.
Just as I started organizing my paints, Stella burst into the room. “Joel!” she called, her voice tinged with panic.
“What’s wrong?” I tried to sound casual, but my voice wavered.
“Cecile fainted in the library.” Her words triggered an alarm in my mind. “She started convulsing…” The rest of her words blurred as panic overwhelmed me.
“She might not make it…” Those words echoed in my head until everything went blank. The pen fell from my hand, and I saw nothing but darkness.
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A/N: Wow, that was an intense emotional rollercoaster! What do you all think?