Kayla stood outside the administrative building of her new university, her hands clutching a thick stack of enrollment papers. Two heavy suitcases sat at her feet.

All around her, the air buzzed with a foreign language—fast-paced, unfamiliar, and overwhelming.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the glass doors.

A woman at the front desk glanced up and rattled off a rapid string of words in Ferelian. The pace was too fast for Kayla to follow, and she could only make out a few scattered terms.

Kayla pressed her lips together and gave a halting response in broken Ferelian. "I'm… here for registration…"

The woman's brows pulled together. She repeated her question, this time with evident impatience.

Kayla's throat tightened, and her fingers curled tighter around the papers.

Just then, a calm male voice answered in fluent Ferelian from behind her.

She turned around and met a pair o

When Darren pushed open the front door, the living room was pitch black.

Out of habit, he called out, "Kayla, lights."

There was no response.

He froze for a beat, then frowned and reached for the switch himself. The moment the lights flicked on, the realization finally hit him—Kayla wasn't here anymore.

He loosened his tie, tossed his coat carelessly on the couch, and walked into the kitchen.

The fridge was nearly empty. There was no homemade chicken broth that Beatrice used to keep stocked, and none of the late-night leftovers Kayla would sometimes leave for him.

He pulled out his phone to order takeout, hesitated, then put it down again.

Back then, if he ever said he was hungry, Kayla would quietly get up and head to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she would set a steaming plate of pasta in front of him.

Now, no one was there to cook.

"Darren!"

Winona's voice echoed from upst

Kayla spent the night at the hospital with Beatrice. The next morning, they returned to the Tate residence to pack their things.

They had just finished sorting half their belongings when Darren walked in. He paused at the doorway, watching them quietly. 

After a long pause, he finally spoke. "You're in such a hurry to leave?"

Kayla didn't look up. "We're no longer employed here. We have no reason to stay."

Darren went silent for a moment. Then, suddenly, he stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. "Weren't we supposed to spend a day together? I'm free today. Let me make it up to you."

He glanced at the packed boxes and added, "Let me have the maid handle this."

Kayla instinctively wanted to refuse, but Beatrice gently nudged her and whispered, "Go."

She reluctantly got into his car.

The ride was heavy with unspoken tension.

Darren rode in silence for a few moments, then glanced at her while gripping the steering wheel. "So, what do you want to do? Get lunch? Catch a movie? Go to an amusement park?"

She shook her head. "Take me to Willowridge High."

He blinked at her request but didn't argue. Instead, he made a turn and headed toward the south side of the city.

When they arrived, Kayla walked straight across the overgrown field toward a sycamore tree by the track. She crouched down and started digging at the dirt with her bare hands.

Darren finally couldn't hold back. He frowned and asked, "What are you digging for?"

She didn't answer. A moment later, her fingers brushed against something metallic. She dug it out and opened the rusted tin box. Inside was an old, yellowed letter.

She looked up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "A love letter. I wrote it to you back then."

Darren's breath caught in his throat.

Kayla stood and held the letter out to him. She said calmly, "You already knew I liked you, didn't you?"

He swallowed but said nothing.

She continued, her words calm and deliberate. "I still don't know when I started liking you. Maybe it was when you defended me from rumors. Maybe it was when you brought me milk every morning. Maybe… it was just that first smile you gave me."

She lowered her head with a faint smile, but her eyes were hollow, stripped of warmth. "But don't worry. You don't have to feel guilty. I'm done liking you."

She met his gaze. Her voice was clear. "I hope you and Winona are happy together."

Then, right in front of him, she tore the letter into pieces. The scraps fluttered to the ground like a quiet snowfall, soft and final.

"Today's date ends here," she said, straightening up. "Thank you for giving me a proper goodbye."

Darren felt a sudden tightness in his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then Darren's phone buzzed with Winona's call.

The call connected, and Winona's sweet, flirtatious voice came through the speaker. "Darren, where are you? I miss you…"

Instinctively, Darren glanced at Kayla, but she had already turned away. 

"You go ahead. I'll get home myself," Kayla said.

He wanted to call out to her, to say something—anything at all. But in the end, not a single word came.

Finally, he whispered, "See you at school."

Kayla shook her head ever so slightly as she walked away. Her heart was already certain that she would never see him again.

That evening, Kayla saw Beatrice off on the train back to Teginia.

"Mom, wait for me. I'll come get you once I finish school."

"I'll be waiting, Kayla," Beatrice replied.

As the train pulled away from the station, Kayla stood on the platform until it vanished into the distance. Then she turned, dragging her suitcase behind her as she hailed a cab to the international terminal.

When the plane lifted into the sky, the city below glimmered with a sea of lights.

She pressed her forehead to the cold window and took one last look at the city that had held her entire youth.

The girl she had once been—the one who followed behind Darren with quiet, careful steps—was gone. So was the decade of unspoken love she had carried alone. 

It all stayed behind, buried in the hum of the engines as the plane climbed toward the unknown.

Kayla stood outside the administrative building of her new university, her hands clutching a thick stack of enrollment papers. Two heavy suitcases sat at her feet.

All around her, the air buzzed with a foreign language—fast-paced, unfamiliar, and overwhelming.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the glass doors.

A woman at the front desk glanced up and rattled off a rapid string of words in Ferelian. The pace was too fast for Kayla to follow, and she could only make out a few scattered terms.

Kayla pressed her lips together and gave a halting response in broken Ferelian. "I'm… here for registration…"

The woman's brows pulled together. She repeated her question, this time with evident impatience.

Kayla's throat tightened, and her fingers curled tighter around the papers.

Just then, a calm male voice answered in fluent Ferelian from behind her.

She turned around and met a pair of kind, smiling eyes.

The man was dressed simply in a white button-up shirt and dark slacks. 

He w

Chapter 9