Morning mist wrapped the forest like a pale veil, the kind that blurred the line between dream and reality. Aiden followed a faint trail through the dew-soaked grass, his boots soft against the earth. Lyra had left him a note, written with shimmering ink on a leaf that never withered.
> "Meet me where the forest hums."
He didn't know what she meant, but his heart somehow did.
He walked for hours until the trees began to change — their bark gleamed faintly blue, and the leaves above glowed like lanterns. The air hummed, almost as if the forest itself was singing. And in that quiet song, he heard her voice.
Lyra stood among the trees, her silver hair drifting like mist. She wasn't wearing her usual white robe; instead, she wore a flowing cloak of moonlight silk that caught the light in ways no fabric should. Around her, orbs of gentle light floated, circling her like companions.
"You found it," she said softly.
Aiden tried to catch his breath — not from the walk, but from her. "You said this place was forbidden."
"It is," she replied, smiling sadly. "But I wanted you to see it once."
---
They walked through the Veiled Forest together, and as they did, she told him stories.
"This forest," she said, touching a glowing vine, "was the first thing my people created when they came from the stars. Every plant here remembers a memory. Every sound is a whisper of what once was."
She paused, looking around as though she could hear things he couldn't. "The forest hums when it remembers love. That's why I brought you here."
"Because you remember someone?" Aiden asked quietly.
She nodded. "He was a guardian. Someone I was bound to protect… and to love. But when the war began, he fell protecting me."
Aiden's chest tightened. He wanted to say I would have protected you too, but the words died in his throat. What right did he have? He was just a boy from a small village — human, fragile, replaceable.
Lyra placed her hand on the trunk of a tree, and the bark rippled like water. From its surface, an image appeared — a man in silver armor, his face kind but distant, holding Lyra's hand beneath the same moonlit sky Aiden had once shared with her.
"This forest keeps his last memory," she whispered. "And every year, on the night he died, the flowers bloom white for him."
---
Silence followed. Only the hum of the forest filled the air.
Aiden couldn't bear to look at the image anymore. He turned away, biting his lip to stop the ache in his chest.
Lyra stepped closer, her voice soft. "Aiden… does it hurt to see?"
He forced a smile. "Maybe a little."
Her expression fell. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to—"
"It's okay," he interrupted gently. "You loved someone. That's not something to apologize for."
She looked at him, her eyes trembling with something unspoken. "And you?"
He froze. "What about me?"
"Do you love someone, Aiden?"
The question hit harder than any sword could. He wanted to laugh, to lie, to look away — but he couldn't. The truth had been waiting too long.
"I do," he whispered. "But she doesn't know."
Lyra's gaze softened. "Why not tell her?"
He smiled sadly. "Because some love isn't meant to be shared. It's meant to be carried — quietly."
The forest seemed to sigh with him. A soft wind passed between them, carrying the scent of blooming starpetals.
---
That night, when they left the forest, Aiden looked back one last time. The glowing trees shimmered faintly in the distance — and among them, the flowers began to turn white.
He knew then what they meant.
The forest was remembering love again.
But not his.
---
Later, as they sat beside the lake once more, Lyra began to hum a tune. It was slow and haunting, full of sorrow and warmth all at once.
"What song is that?" Aiden asked.
"It's called The Bloom That Never Returned," she said softly. "It's an old melody about a flower that waited forever for spring to come back… but it never did."
He stared at her, heart trembling.
"Does the flower regret waiting?"
Lyra looked at the water, her reflection shimmering beside his. "No," she whispered. "It just… kept blooming anyway."
---
Aiden didn't sleep that night.
He sat by his window, staring at the moon — the same moon she once looked at for someone else — and wondered how something so beautiful could hurt this much.
And yet, he smiled. Because even if his love would never return, he finally understood what it meant to love without wanting anything back.
He would be her spring, even if she bloomed for another.