"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage." — Lao-Tzu
Graduation was approaching, and Ailín felt a mixture of pride, nerves, and something warm she couldn't quite name. Dylan, though busy with his new job at a friend's company, remained her safe place. Even if they saw each other less, whenever she caught sight of him, it felt like sunrise—soft, familiar, and impossibly comforting.
That morning, as they walked toward the auditorium, Dylan's fingers brushed hers before he intertwined their hands naturally.
Ailín's heart fluttered.
"You look beautiful today," he whispered, almost shy, which somehow made it even sweeter.
Oscurita, hanging like a fashionable bat on her shoulder, snorted loud enough for Ailín to hear:
"Oh yes, wow, what a poet. Someone give this man a medal for 'Most Obvious Statement of the Year.'"
Ailín held back a laugh, cheeks warming.
Just when everything felt perfect, a group of girls from campus spotted Dylan.
"Dylan! Captain! Over here!"
"Let's take a picture!"
"Sign my hoodie!"
They rushed to him like a swarm of glittery butterflies. Dylan smiled politely—he always tried to be kind—and the crowd closed in.
Ailín felt her stomach twist. Her fingers slowly slipped from his hand as she stepped back.
Oscurita crossed her tiny arms dramatically:
"Déjà vu, sweetheart. We've seen this movie. Spoiler: 'The Handsome Star and His Fan Club.' Meanwhile you—background decoration. Two seconds away from crying? Or three?"
Before the spiral could grow, Dylan turned abruptly, caught her hand again, and gently pulled her toward him.
His eyes locked onto hers with that warm clarity she never doubted.
"Ailín, wait. None of them matter. You're the one who matters to me."
She froze, startled by his firmness. He squeezed her hand, then leaned down until his forehead touched hers for a brief second—a gesture intimate enough to silence every doubt.
Oscurita blinked.
"Well, well… Now the popular prince actually has priorities. Look at that—male character development in real time. I'm proud… but don't make me say it out loud."
Dylan guided her away from the crowd, his thumb tracing soft circles on her hand.
Ailín felt like her heart was blooming.
Oscurita groaned loudly:
"Ugh. The romance is so thick I could spread it on toast."
….
During the ceremony, as Ailín crossed the stage, she felt something she hadn't felt in years: pride in herself. Pride in surviving long nights, panic, doubts, and the occasional existential crisis.
Oscurita strutted beside her like a catwalk model:
"Look at you. Standing. Walking. Receiving a diploma. Truly groundbreaking."
Then she crossed her arms:
"There it is. My dear protagonist, officially a survivor of the educational system. Your greatest victory: not fainting on stage. Bravo, bravo."
Ailín would've rolled her eyes if she weren't so happy.
Dylan applauded as if she were the only graduate in the entire auditorium.
His eyes sparkled, full of admiration, and Ailín felt a soft wave of warmth wash over her.
Oscurita sighed dramatically:
"Yes, yes, gaze at each other like a cheesy drama poster. I get it."
…
After the ceremony, Dylan hugged her so tightly she felt the world shrink to the size of his arms.
"I'm so proud of you," he murmured into her hair. "You inspire me every day."
Ailín melted.
"Romantic and disgustingly sweet," Oscurita grumbled. "Perfect for a family photo album."
That evening, at Dylan's parents' house, things became even more overwhelming.
His younger sister ran to Ailín and clung to her arm like a koala.
"You're my sister now, right?"
Ailín blinked, unsure what to answer.
Oscurita whispered:
"Congratulations. Fastest adoption in history."
During dinner, Dylan's mother was warm and attentive, asking about her work and congratulating her on the graduation. His father was more playful, but his jokes carried affection.
"Well, Ailín," he said at one point, "we've been looking forward to meeting you. Dylan talks about you a lot."
"Aha, parental approval unlocked," Oscurita celebrated. "Keep this up and they'll crown you Daughter-in-Law of the Year."
Dinner was warm, loud, and full of laughter. Dylan's parents welcomed her like she already belonged. His mother held her hand for a moment and said:
"We're happy he has someone who cares for him like you do."
Ailín nearly cried.
Oscurita fanned her with a tiny shadow fan:
"Don't cry. You'll ruin the mascara you spent twenty minutes on."
Ailín felt a soft wave of peace. She was welcome. And for her, that meant everything.
…
Months passed. Ailín began working in dubbing and translation, while Dylan rose surprisingly fast to become department head. Together they saved, dreamed, and planned—until Dylan finally bought a small apartment.
The day he showed it to her, Ailín stepped inside first.
The place was practically empty: a sofa, a small table, two lit candles. And silence. A lot of silence.
Oscurita appeared immediately.
"Ah, minimalism level 'recently broke.' Is this what awaits you? A future of imaginary furniture. But don't worry, you'll get used to it. Love can't buy chairs… but you can try."
Ailín choked on a silent laugh.
Her nerves kicked in.
"Dylan… this apartment…"
She hesitated.
Oscurita jumped in gleefully:
"Say it. Say you're worried he'll only be able to afford instant ramen for the next three years."
But Dylan stepped closer, brushing a stray hair from her cheek.
"Ailín, I know it's small. But everything I'm building, I want to build with you."
His voice trembled just a little.
"You don't have to be afraid. I'm here to stay."
He reached into his pocket.
Ailín stopped breathing.
Oscurita whispered:
"If he pulls out a key, I swear I'm leaving. But if it's a ring… okay, fine, I'll allow the drama."
Dylan knelt, eyes soft but steady.
"Will you marry me?"
Ailín gasped. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Oscurita opened her arms dramatically:
"Ta-daaa! Ladies and gentlemen, the cheesiest romantic proposal of the year. And I didn't even bring popcorn."
Ailín trembled. But not from fear.
From emotion.
"Yes, Dylan. I will."
Dylan kissed her—gentle, full of promise.
The candles flickered, casting slow-moving shadows around them.
Oscurita rolled on the floor:
"Great. Now I'm the third wheel and the dramatic lighting assistant. Fabulous."
…
That night, love wrapped around them like a soft blanket.
They whispered, laughed, kissed, held each other as if the world was kind enough to pause for them.
Oscurita lay flat on her back on the sofa's armrest:
"Look at you two. Disgustingly in love. Ugh. I'll allow it only because it makes my job easier. Happy Ailín = fewer existential crises for me to manage."
She stretched and added:
"But don't get confused. Life will still throw drama your way. And I'll be here, providing sarcastic commentary. You're welcome."
Ailín rested her head on Dylan's chest, fingers intertwined with his.
Everything felt right—soft, safe, beautifully imperfect.
Oscurita smirked:
"Well, look at you. You did it. And even though you'll still be dramatic, sensitive, and overly emotional… I accept you. I promise to stick around with my sarcasm so you don't get bored. I'm your shadow, not your enemy."
"Just remember: even the brightest light needs a sarcastic shadow. Otherwise, life gets boring."
Ailín closed her eyes, smiling.
Because no matter how much she grew, changed, or loved, Oscurita would always be there—comical, impertinent, and absolutely indispensable.