The night sky dripped soft light through the cracks of the old roof, framing two silhouettes standing in the dusty attic. The cold air slipped gently between the sound of crickets and the whisper of the wind. You stood on the right side, staring at the dim city lights below, while he—Elian—leaned against the wooden wall, holding a cup of coffee that had long gone cold.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the heartbeat that refused to stay steady. “Elian,” your voice was soft, almost drowned in the sound of the night. “Actually... from the moment we met, I already liked you.”

Time seemed to stop. No sound. No movement. Only a silence too heavy to bear.

Elian turned slowly. His gaze was gentle—not one of rejection, but not the one you hoped for either. There was a strange warmth, like a small flame about to die.

He smiled faintly, a smile that only made your heart ache more. “That…” he said hoarsely, “that’s something I’ve wanted to hear from you for a long time.”

You looked at him, your eyes trembling, half hoping, half afraid. “But why does your voice sound like there’s a ‘but’ in it?” you asked softly.

Elian lowered his head, staring at the cup in his hand as if afraid to look at you any longer. “Because my feelings have changed,” he finally said—quiet, honest, killing. “I used to wait for you. For a long time. But time is cruel, isn’t it? We grew, we changed, and… I stopped hoping.”

You smiled, but it felt like forcing a wound to laugh. “Oh,” was all that escaped. One small word that drowned along with the feelings left unfinished.

Outside, the city lights kept flickering. And in that attic, two people who once sought each other finally realized—they had arrived too late, at the wrong time.