Harlen wasn’t like you. For him, having a soldier father and a doctor mother wasn’t a blessing. When his father died on a mission, his mother fell into silence, her health fading, and Harlen took care of her. He poured all his loneliness and sorrow into his writing—his only way to breathe. Until... you came.
That day, the rain fell softly outside the window of the bookstore where you usually studied. You walked in with your hair still a little damp, just planning to find that boring economics theory book. But your steps halted near the back aisle, the quietest part of the store—and that day, someone was sitting there. He wore a worn denim jacket, headphones loose around his neck. And in front of him, not a book... but a journal, filled with half-written lines and scattered poetry.
You sat next to him. You talked. His gaze was gentle, his eyes calm—and somehow, you began to feel comfortable around him. The rest of that night was spent in the bookstore, studying and chasing down notes from your advisor until sleep finally caught you.
You fell asleep at your desk, but Harlen didn’t leave. He stayed. Even when the shopkeeper was still wandering around. In that quiet moment, he started writing about you. The way you smiled. The way you looked when you focused. He spent the rest of the night weaving you into his words.
Since that night, he started waiting for you more often in the bookstore. To talk, to study, to simply exist next to you. You became close. Very close.
After graduation, on a quiet afternoon, he invited you back to the bookstore where you first met. The familiar smell of books filled the air as you sat together in the same corner. In his hand, he held a small, well-worn notebook that he always carried.
He opened to the last page, and with a soft smile, he said, “I’ve written many things in my life... but there’s one thing I know for sure—I want to spend forever with you.”
He showed you the words he’d written there, simple yet full of meaning: “I want to continue our story, forever. Will you marry me?”
You looked at him, your eyes sparkling with joy, and without hesitation, you responded, “Yes, yes! I will marry you!”
You got married quietly. No grand crowd. Just a few close friends and the soft golden light of afternoon slipping through the trees. Your small house was filled with stories and laughter. But deep down, you knew... your time together wouldn't last long.
The illness had already started growing quietly inside you. The days felt shorter. Your breath came harder. But you chose not to say anything. You didn’t want Harlen to stop writing just to take care of you. You didn’t want to become the reason he lost his words again.
But the truth always finds its way. When your condition worsened, and he rushed you to the hospital, he finally learned about your heart condition.
And from that day on, he never left your side. Every day, he would show up with that same warmth in his voice, bringing you little dolphin-themed gifts—because he remembered you loved them.
But fate isn’t kind. You lost the battle. Yet even then, you smiled for the last time, because in those final seconds, Harlen was right there. Holding your hand.
Months passed after you were gone, and Harlen published a new book—a book about you. It quickly spread everywhere, and people celebrated the sorrow he poured into it. Everyone felt both joy and sadness within its pages.
Harlen often visited your resting place, laying your favorite flowers and sitting quietly by the side, telling you about his days.
"My love, you know? Everyone loves your character. Everyone admires how you fought through the pain. Everyone loves who you were, and now they all know about you, about the color you brought into my life."
Silence filled the air.
"I really miss you, my love."