Final exam week arrived like a storm Elara couldn't avoid. Everything she had worked for—her sleepless nights, early mornings, and constant prayers—was leading up to this. She needed to focus more than ever, and she did.
Still, the pressure loomed. While she sat at her desk buried in textbooks, a part of her mind drifted to what would happen next year. What was she going to do after high school? What path would she take? It all felt overwhelming.
But she reminded herself of a quiet rule she always followed: Focus on the storm you're in before worrying about the ones ahead.
Zeon understood this. He stepped back, giving her space—not in the sense of growing apart, but in the sense of cheering for her from a distance. He knew her future was more important than constant phone calls or late-night chats.
They still talked—brief texts, check-ins, quick "good luck" voice notes. But for the most part, Elara studied. Or she slept. There was no energy left for anything else.
Then one day, he showed up at her house with a paper bag full of little things: highlighters, sticky notes, an energy drink, a chocolate bar, and a hand-written note that said, "You're gonna make it."
It was small. But it mattered.
That moment reminded her of why she fell for him. Because love wasn't about loud declarations all the time. Sometimes it was about small, quiet reminders that you matter.
With one week of exams left, he couldn't stay away any longer. He asked to see her.
"I know you're busy," he said over the phone, "but I miss your face."
She agreed, and when they met up, it felt like seeing sunshine after weeks of rain. He didn't ask much. Just hugged her tightly and said, "I'm proud of you."
To him, it may not have seemed like a big deal. But to her? It was everything. It made her feel like a little girl again—giddy, wide-eyed, like she'd just met a prince in a fairy tale.
And in that moment, she did feel like Cinderella.
---
November came, and with it the last day of exams. She walked out of that exam hall feeling light, as if the weight of a thousand bricks had been lifted.
She didn't go home.
She went straight to Zeon.
It was her turn now—to show up. To make up for the missed Saturdays, the ignored calls, the tired replies. When he opened the gate and saw her standing there, his face lit up like it was Christmas morning.
He opened his arms without a word. She rushed into them, burying her face in his hoodie. For a moment, they didn't say anything. They didn't have to.
Love had its own language. And right now, theirs was spoken in silence.
---
A few days later, he told her his mom was coming to visit from another province.
"You know I talk about her all the time," he said. "It's crazy how nervous I feel."
"You've always made her sound like a superhero," Elara said.
"She is."
Zeon had painted vivid pictures of his mom long before Elara ever met her—stories of how she raised him alone, how she fought for his future even when he was headed down the wrong path. How she never gave up on him, even when he had.
He talked about how one day he'd give her everything. How he'd never let her go without.
When his mom arrived, everything shifted.
Elara saw a new side of him. More grounded. More mature. The way he talked to his mother—gentle, attentive, respectful—it showed Elara everything she needed to know.
People say the way a man treats his mother says a lot about how he'll treat you.
She didn't believe that at first.
But now? She did.
Because when Elara was in need, when she had nothing left to give, Zeon didn't hesitate. He showed up. Again and again.
And in that, she found peace.
Because sometimes love isn't about always being available—it's about showing up when it matters most.
And he did.
Every time.