North POV

I turned a full circle in front of the mirror, checking every angle like my life depended on it. The reflection staring back at me almost made me grin—okay, fine, I did grin.

The cream sweater sat perfectly over my frame, hugging just enough without looking like I tried too hard. My black jeans? Flawless. And the sneakers—clean, white, understated. Casual but sharp. The kind of look that said, I woke up like this, even though I absolutely didn’t.

I leaned in closer, running my fingers through my hair one last time, making sure every strand was in place.

Damn. I looked good.

“Irresistible,” I murmured to myself, and the smirk tugging at my lips made me laugh softly. Johan wouldn’t admit it, but he’d notice. He always did.

Snapping out of my little ego trip, I darted to the closet and started digging through the top shelf until my fingers brushed against the cool cardboard box. The disposable camera I bought yesterday after classes—just for today. I didn’t even know why I wanted it. Maybe because I wanted to freeze every moment, capture every second of us outside his penthouse, where the world felt bigger and brighter and maybe… ours.

Sliding the camera into my bag carefully, I slung the strap over my shoulder and grabbed my phone.

My thumbs hovered over the screen for a second longer than necessary before I typed:

(Me)
Phiiiii.
Here’s the address 📍
See you ♡

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I locked the dorm room and stepped into the hallway, my steps echoing faintly as excitement thrummed through my veins.

The campus was quiet for a Saturday morning, sunlight streaming lazily through the open windows. My sneakers scuffed softly against the tiled floor as I made my way down the stairs, the cool breeze sneaking in through the doorway ruffling my hair.

By the time I reached the street, the city was awake—cars humming by, vendors calling out their breakfast specials, and the faint aroma of freshly baked bread curling through the air. I inhaled deeply, the scent oddly calming even though my stomach was doing backflips.

Pulling my phone out again, I checked the time. Ten minutes before the cab arrived. Ten minutes of overthinking every possible scenario—what to say, what not to say, how not to look like an idiot when I saw him.

And yet, under all that nervous energy, there was something warm. Something steady.

Because no matter how much I tried to hide it, the truth was simple:

I couldn’t wait to see him.

✿✿✿

“A table for two, please,” I said politely to the waitress. She smiled and guided me toward an outdoor seat tucked beneath a wooden pergola, its vines swaying gently in the wind.

The weather was moody, draped in a palette of grays and muted blues. The kind of sky that warned of rain, though the air still clung stubbornly to its last breath of calm. I drew in a slow inhale, the scent of wet earth already teasing my senses.

Perfect.

A perfect rainy, romantic day.

My heart fluttered like a cage full of restless butterflies, and before I could stop myself, a soft smile curved on my lips.

Sliding into my seat, I placed the disposable camera on the table and fiddled with its dial, the click of plastic oddly satisfying. The thought of capturing this day—the day that was supposed to be ours—sent a warm pulse through my chest.

Except Johan hadn’t replied yet.

I glanced at my phone, unlocking it with muscle memory. No new notifications. My smile faltered, replaced by a small pout tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Where are you mean orangutan?

Impulsively, I picked up the camera and snapped a quick selfie, tilting my head slightly so the soft gray sky framed me in the background. A little cheesy, but whatever. I uploaded it to my instagram story with a caption:

“Rainy romance”

Hehe. Perfect.

As if on cue, the waitress returned with a glass of water, her cheeks tinged pink when I offered her a polite smile in return. She set the glass down carefully and all but scurried away, stealing one last glance at me over her shoulder.

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head before returning to my phone. Fifteen minutes passed.
Then twenty. I scrolled aimlessly through my feed, liking random posts just to keep my fingers busy, my mind refusing to quiet the growing unease gnawing at my ribs.

Where was he?

He wouldn’t ditch… right? He promised me.

Another ten minutes crawled by like an eternity. I ended up staring at the sky again—still gray, still swollen with unshed rain. The wind picked up, rustling the café’s wind chimes into a melancholy tune that matched the hollow thud in my chest.

It felt like an hour had passed when my phone finally buzzed against the table, slicing through the heavy silence. My heart leapt, desperate. I snatched it up, unlocking it in a rush.

(Long-limbed demon)

An important sponsor showed up. Let’s postpone the date for any other day.

I froze. My breath hitched sharply, like someone had just knocked the air out of my lungs.

Staring at the screen, my mouth pressed into a thin, bloodless line. I read the message again, slower this time, as if the meaning would somehow change if I lingered long enough.

It didn’t.

He wasn’t coming.

My fingers moved on their own.

(Me)
No problem, phi.

I set the phone down carefully, as though it were something fragile that might shatter if I let my hand tremble too much. Sliding out of the chair, I grabbed my bag, slinging it across my shoulder without looking back at the empty seat across from mine—the seat that should have been his.

It's alright North.

Don't overthink.

The world felt heavier as I stepped onto the street, each footfall dull against the cobblestones. My heart dragged inside my chest, a leaden weight twisting and clawing at my stomach until nausea curled like smoke in my throat.

I didn’t even realize I’d walked to the bus stop until I was standing there, alone, under a flickering streetlamp that buzzed faintly against the quiet hum of traffic.

My phone was still in my hand, his message burning against the glass screen like a cruel joke.

I stared at it when suddenly a rain drop fell.

One.

And then another.

And another.

And again.
.
.
.
.
.

“Here,” a voice said gently, pulling me out of the fog.

I blinked up to see an elderly woman standing a few feet away, her kind eyes lined with years of soft wisdom. She held out a neatly folded napkin with both hands.

“Your tears are falling on your phone, son,” she said, her voice tender.

Huh?

I glanced at my phone, then the napkin, then the sky—clear, bright. No rain.

It wasn't raining. If anything the clouds were clearing up and the sun was peaking through.

I looked down at my phone again.

The rain was pouring now.

And that's when my body started shaking.

It wasn’t the sky that was crying. It was me.

My throat closed up as a choked sound clawed its way out, raw and unrestrained. One sob, then another—each tearing through my chest like something jagged. My knees buckled, and before I knew it, I was sinking down onto the cold pavement, my bag sliding off my shoulder.

“Son?” The woman’s voice wavered with concern as she stepped closer, but I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even look at her.

My body shook violently, the sobs spilling faster now, crashing like waves against the brittle dam I’d tried so hard to keep intact.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, as if that would stop the flood, but it didn’t. The sound of my own broken breathing filled my ears, drowning out the world.

I wanted to disappear. To melt into the cracks of the street and never be found.

Because for the first time in a long time… I felt small. Unwanted. Left behind.

And God, it hurts.

It hurts so bad.