After the letter, everything hurt.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just… constantly.
They smiled in public. They joked when they had to. They showed up to class and answered questions and pretended they were fine. But inside, something fragile had cracked, and none of them knew how to fix it.
Matteo's absence became something they learned to live around.
Like a missing stair you eventually stop tripping over—but never forget is gone.
At first, coping felt impossible. Maliya found herself staring at empty spaces more than actual people. Amir grew quieter, more observant than ever. Leo buried himself in distractions. Khadija stayed strong for everyone, even when her own chest felt heavy.
But time did what time always does.
It moved forward.
And slowly—almost reluctantly—they did too.
They stopped searching.
They stopped waiting for doors to open.
They started living again.
Not because it didn't hurt anymore—but because they realized Matteo wouldn't want them frozen in his absence.
So they poured themselves into what they loved.
Amir excelled academically, surprising even himself with how focused he became. Leo found confidence in leadership roles, his humor evolving into something steadier—something grounding. Khadija thrived socially, becoming a familiar, comforting presence across campus.
And Maliya…
Maliya bloomed.
She began speaking at school assemblies—first nervously, then with growing strength. Her words carried weight. They spoke of resilience, of quiet battles, of choosing to keep going even when your heart felt tired.
Her poetry gained attention. Teachers encouraged her. Students listened. Some cried.
Her drawings—raw, emotional, layered—were displayed during school exhibitions. People stopped to stare. To feel.
For the first time in a long time, Maliya felt seen.
Felt loved.
Felt like she belonged somewhere.
Years passed faster than any of them expected.
Too fast.
And then suddenly—they were in their final year.
Seventeen turning eighteen,except for Maliya who is turning seventeen.
Standing at the edge of something terrifying and exciting all at once.
University applications. Career talks. Graduation rehearsals.
It should have felt triumphant.
Instead, it felt heavy.
Especially for Maliya.
Because there was someone who should have been here to see this version of her.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the school in warm orange light, they gathered in their space.
The art studio.
The same place where secrets had been uncovered, bonds had been forged, and everything had once changed.
They sat on the floor, backs against tables, surrounded by half-finished canvases and familiar smells of paint and turpentine.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Leo exhaled softly and broke the silence.
"I can't believe how many years have passed already," he said, voice low. "We're… eighteen and Maliya seventeen. And we're literally graduating next week."
He laughed quietly, but his eyes glistened.
"I mean—we're actually leaving this place. Going to university. Maybe together. Maybe not."
He swallowed.
"But no matter what happens… I'll forever remember this. The laughter. The crying. The fights. The way we went from strangers to something that felt like family."
His voice cracked.
He stopped talking, staring at the floor as emotion caught up with him.
No one rushed to fill the silence.
Then Maliya spoke.
Her voice was soft—but steady.
"There's something I've never really told you," she said.
They all turned to her.
She took a breath.
"My sister's name was Khadija."
Khadija stiffened slightly, but didn't interrupt.
"She was my shield," Maliya continued.
"When I was bullied. When I felt small. She fought for me in ways I didn't even know how to fight for myself."
Her fingers curled into her sleeves.
"She got sick. Cancer. And even then… she tried to be strong for me."
Her voice trembled.
"When she died, everything collapsed. I didn't have friends. I didn't want them. I didn't trust anyone."
She laughed bitterly.
"The main reason my parents moved us here was because of me. They thought a new place would erase the trauma. That I'd forget."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"But you don't forget pain like that. You just learn how to hide it."
She wiped her cheek quickly.
"When I first met you all—especially you, Khadija—I wanted to avoid you. Hearing the name reminded me of my sister every single time. I prayed I wouldn't see you again."
She looked up, tears slipping free now.
"But fate had different plans."
Her shoulders shook.
"And I thank God for that every day."
She let out a shaky breath.
"I didn't know I could trust again. I didn't know I could feel safe. But you became my family… just like Leo said."
She broke down completely then.
Khadija moved instantly, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"I've got you," she whispered. "Always."
They sat like that for a while.
No words.
Just shared understanding.
Amir finally spoke.
"You didn't lose your sister's strength," he said gently. "You carry it."
Leo nodded.
"And you're not alone anymore."
Khadija smiled through her tears.
"If I share her name," she said softly, "then I'll honor her by being there for you. I promise."
Maliya smiled weakly.
They spent the rest of the night in that studio.
Talking.
Crying.
Laughing.
Telling ridiculous stories. Teasing each other. Remembering Matteo.
And for the first time in a long while, the pain didn't feel so lonely.
Because even in loss—
They were still blooming.