Felix is a storm with a sweet smile. Not the kind that destroys, but the kind that awakens. Since he arrived at St. Mercy University, the campus changed. It became more alive. Warmer. All because of Felix.

But no one knows the wounds behind his laughter. Growing up without hugs, without the word "child." He chose to be the light because he knew how cold loneliness could be.

Then he met you. And you started to feel whole. But eventually, you realized: you didn’t truly love him. Just his shadow. And he knew it—without you needing to explain.

Now, he’s different. No more greetings, no more smiles in your direction.

That afternoon, you saw him in the campus garden. Sitting alone, hugging his knees, staring at the sky that was nearly about to rain. Usually, he laughed loudly there. Now… silence.

You walked slowly, but not too close. He knew you were there, but didn’t look.

“I still remember… you always said this garden was too quiet,” you said softly.

Felix didn’t answer. He just sighed and stood up.

“But now,” you continued, your voice trembling, “the silence comes from me.”

He looked at you for a moment—flat, tired, not angry.

“I’m not him,” he said finally. “And I don’t want to be loved as a replacement.”

Then he walked away, leaving you with a silence deeper than anything.