The years passed not in days, but in meetings.
For Elijah, time was measured differently.
Not by calendars… but by the moments he spent in Talia.
Every year, when the festival arrived, he returned.
And every year—
Layla was there.
At first, it was simple.
Two children running through crowded streets, laughing without reason, chasing lights that flickered in the evening air. The fair became their place—a world that existed only for them.
They rode the same rides.
Visited the same stalls.
Argued over small things… and forgot them just as quickly.
It became a tradition.
Something constant.
Something safe.
As the years went by, things began to change—quietly, almost invisibly.
Their conversations grew longer.
Their silences grew deeper.
Elijah started noticing things he never had before.
The way Layla tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking.
The way her voice softened when she spoke about things she loved.
The way her eyes didn't always match her smile.
And somehow… he remembered all of it.
He started visiting her home more often.
At first, it felt unfamiliar. Then normal.
Then… necessary.
Her parents welcomed him like family. They trusted him. Knew him.
Sometimes, they would leave the two of them alone, knowing there was nothing to worry about.
And maybe… that was the problem.
Because for them, nothing had changed.
But for Elijah—
everything had.
YEAR — 2022
The night air in Raven felt heavier than usual.
Elijah sat near his window, staring into the darkness that swallowed the city whole. There were no lights, no sounds… just silence pressing against him.
His fingers tightened slightly.
"I… I…" he whispered.
The words felt unfamiliar. Fragile.
"It's… love."
He let out a slow breath, as if saying it made it real.
After eight years… he finally understood.
Every glance.
Every memory.
Every moment that stayed with him longer than it should have—
It was all because of her.
Layla.
Days later, he returned to Talia once again.
But this time… something felt different.
Or maybe—
he was the one who had changed.
The festival was alive as always.
Golden lights stretched across the streets, laughter filled the air, and music echoed from every corner. It was the same festival he had known for years.
And yet… it didn't feel the same.
Because now—
he was aware.
"Hey!"
Layla's voice cut through the noise.
Elijah turned—and there she was.
For a moment, he forgot how to speak.
She looked the same… yet completely different.
More mature. More distant in a way he couldn't explain.
"Why are you just standing there?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you forget me or something?"
Elijah quickly shook his head. "No… I just—"
He stopped.
Layla stepped closer, narrowing her eyes slightly.
"You're acting weird again."
"I'm not," he replied, a little too quickly.
She studied his face for a second longer… then sighed.
"You always say that."
But there was a faint smile on her lips.
They walked together through the fair, just like every year.
Same paths. Same lights.
But not the same feelings.
Layla talked about everything—small things, random things, things that didn't really matter.
Elijah listened.
Or at least… he tried to.
Because his attention kept drifting.
To her voice.
Her expressions.
Her presence.
It was overwhelming in a way he wasn't prepared for.
"Are you even listening?"
He blinked.
"Yeah… of course."
Layla stopped walking and turned to face him.
"You're lying."
"I'm not lying."
"Then what did I just say?"
Elijah opened his mouth… then closed it.
Layla crossed her arms, giving him a look.
"That's what I thought."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just… distracted."
"By what?"
He hesitated.
Then quietly—
"…nothing."
She didn't reply immediately.
Instead, she stepped closer.
Too close.
For a brief moment—
everything slowed down.
The noise of the fair faded into the background. The lights blurred. The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them.
Elijah's heartbeat grew louder.
Faster.
He could feel it in his chest… in his throat… everywhere.
Layla looked at him—really looked this time.
Not casually. Not playfully.
Something in her expression shifted.
As if she noticed something… different.
Elijah almost said it.
The words were right there.
On the edge.
All he had to do was let them out.
"Layla, I—"
"Come on!"
A group of children ran past them, laughing loudly.
The moment shattered.
Layla stepped back slightly, blinking as if waking from something.
Then she smiled again.
"Let's go to the rides," she said.
Just like that—
everything returned to normal.
Or at least… it looked like it did.
They spent the rest of the evening the same way they always had.
Laughing. Walking. Existing side by side.
But something unspoken lingered between them.
Something fragile.
Something unfinished.
Later that night, as Elijah stood alone outside, the festival lights flickering in the distance, he let out a quiet breath.
His chest felt tight.
Not painful.
Just… heavy.
He looked down at his hands.
Then back toward the light.
Toward her.
"I was so close…" he murmured.
But maybe—
not close enough.
And somewhere deep inside him, a thought quietly formed—
What if some feelings…
are never meant to be spoken?