Windsor Academy – Literature Class, 9:04 AM
Leon sat near the window, sunlight falling across his notebook like golden thread. His pen hovered above the page, frozen mid-sentence. His body was in class, but his mind was somewhere else—somewhere two time zones away.
His phone sat heavy in his pocket.
Last night's message from Evelyn still lived in his chest, echoing softer each hour.
"Leon?"
He blinked.
The literature teacher raised an eyebrow. "What do you think the poet meant by 'a love that outlasted its echo'?"
Leon opened his mouth, unsure what sound would come out.
Then Clara spoke.
"Maybe it means that some feelings fade in sound but not in meaning," she said softly. "Like… they stop being said out loud, but they don't stop being true."
The room stilled for a moment.
The teacher nodded. "Beautifully put."
Leon glanced at Clara. She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes stayed on her book, one hand slowly folding the corner of a page into a perfect triangle.
He looked back at his notebook.
And wrote:
"A love that outlasted its echo."
Maybe it wasn't just about poetry.
Maybe it was about her.
Dorm Hallway – 1:17 PM
"Hey, Emo Romeo," Felix called out from beside the vending machine. "You're going to the art show tonight, right?"
Leon raised a brow. "What show?"
Felix groaned. "Dude. The gallery show. Evelyn's work? She got that last-minute spotlight slot before leaving. Remember?"
Leon's breath caught for half a second.
Right.
He'd forgotten. Evelyn had been selected for the student gallery showcase, and the opening night was… tonight.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'll go."
Felix grinned. "Atta boy. Let's get your tragic butt out there."
Windsor Gallery – 6:45 PM
The campus gallery smelled like fresh paint and clean linen. Students and faculty milled around in low murmurs, sipping sparkling water and pointing at brush strokes they pretended to understand.
Leon stood near the back, hands in his pockets.
The light was warm. The walls, white and glowing. And in the center of the room hung a single canvas that pulled him like gravity.
It was Evelyn's.
The painting she had once left unfinished in the art studio.
Now complete.
A city skyline overlapped with a soft portrait of a girl—her eyes downcast, lost in thought, while the skyscrapers loomed like memories around her. The colors bled into each other like dreams fading into dawn.
Title: "The Space You Left Me"
Leon stepped closer.
Beneath the painting, in tiny handwriting, was Evelyn's artist statement:
"Sometimes, people leave behind more than silence. They leave shapes.
Memories.
A space shaped like them—
and no one else fits."
The words hit harder than he expected.
Because the space she left in him…
still echoed with her name.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice beside him startled him.
Clara.
She was wearing a dark blue hoodie and black boots, her hair tied up in a loose bun.
Leon nodded. "Yeah."
"She has a way of making emptiness feel full," Clara said, gazing at the painting.
He didn't reply.
Clara looked at him, really looked.
"You don't have to talk, you know," she said quietly. "I'm good at reading silence."
Leon turned to her. "Then you probably know what I'm thinking."
She offered a small smile. "That you're standing in front of her painting, but wishing she was standing next to you."
His chest tightened. "Yeah."
They stood in silence.
Two people in the same gallery.
But only one of them was waiting for someone who wasn't there.
That Night – Dorm Room, 10:54 PM
Leon lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Felix walked in, holding two paper cups of hot chocolate like sacred offerings.
He handed one over without a word.
Leon took it, sipped, and whispered, "Thanks."
Felix sat on the floor. "You know… you don't always have to carry it alone."
Leon didn't answer right away.
Then he said, "I'm not sure I know how to carry it with someone."
Felix nodded. "That's okay. You'll learn."
A beat.
Leon looked at the wall where Evelyn's postcard was pinned.
And quietly replied, "I hope so."