The waves of love in my life

Mira hadn't been to the park in years.

It was the one near the old library—their childhood hideout. Hers and Lena's. A place filled with laughter and poems scribbled into tree bark, where they once believed the world could be rewritten with enough ink and belief.

Now, the bench beneath their tree sat empty. Waiting.

Aaron walked with her most of the way, then gave her space. He knew she needed this moment to stand on her own.

Lena was already there, hands in her coat pockets, eyes watching the leaves fall like slow-motion confessions.

"I didn't think you'd come," she said.

Mira smiled faintly. "I had to."

They sat. Not as friends, not yet. But as two people willing to try.

"I read the letter you left Aaron," Mira said softly. "Thank you."

Lena exhaled. "I meant it."

Silence lingered again—comfortable this time, not sharp.

Then Mira took a deep breath. "There's something I never told you. Not because I didn't trust you… but because I was ashamed."

Lena looked over, surprised. "What is it?"

Mira hesitated. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, worn notebook. The cover was cracked, the pages bent. On the first page, a name was written in faded ink:

J.

Lena froze. "Is that—?"

Mira nodded. "My brother."

Lena's voice dropped. "You told me he left when you were little."

"He didn't leave," Mira said, voice trembling. "He died. And I was there."

The air changed. The leaves stopped falling for a moment, or at least it felt that way.

"I never talked about him because I blamed myself. He was my best friend. My protector. And he fell—off the edge of the cliff near Ridgewell Bluff. We weren't supposed to be there. We snuck out. I dared him to climb."

Her voice broke. "He never made it down."

Lena's eyes filled with tears. "Mira…"

"I spiraled after that. That's when the nightmares started. That's when the silence began. You thought I was breaking because of… life. But it started way before."

Lena placed a hand on her shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you saw me as strong. And I didn't want to shatter that version of me you believed in."

"You wouldn't have," Lena whispered. "You would've just reminded me how human you are."

Mira smiled through the tears. "I think… I want to write about him. Finally."

Lena squeezed her hand. "And I'll help you. If you'll let me."

For the first time, the grief didn't feel like a monster—it felt like a bridge.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, two women sat beneath an old tree, letting the past breathe—and choosing to move forward, together.