6
Julian was back. In those few short hours, he seemed to have aged ten years. His usually straight back was now hunched. I noticed he was holding a black box. Perhaps it was my ashes, or my bones. I no longer cared.
The moment he closed the door, Julian seemed to lose all his strength, collapsing to the floor, utterly defeated. I had never seen him like this, never seen such pain on Julian’s face.
I tried to reach out and touch the box, but my hands passed right through Julian.
My once solid spirit was becoming transparent, as if it could dissipate at any moment. I watched Julian take out his phone, the faint screen illuminating his face.
His brows were furrowed, stubble lined his jaw, making him look incredibly haggard. I slowly crouched down, seriously looking at him, right in front of him.
After a year apart, he had matured so much. The memory of the vibrant young man I once knew had blurred, replaced by the increasingly clear image of his cold, distant expression. Perhaps I was someone who loved deeply, but even my unwavering devotion couldn’t withstand so many years of
emotional neglect.
I saw the screen. After my body was discovered, some media outlets had gotten wind of it. Soon, news of my death leaked, trending online.
Julian scrolled through, saving images from the comment section. My ID card hadn’t been updated in a long time, and I didn’t like taking photos, so the picture shown was of my younger self. Back then, I
smiled brightly, never self–conscious despite my physical limitations.
Everyone who knew me used to call me a ‘little ray of sunshine, yet in the end, I died in the dark.
People who hadn’t contacted me in years now came forward, claiming to know me, describing me in overly beautiful terms. Photo after photo refreshed in the comment section. Everyone’s life had an audience; I hadn’t realized I had left so many traces.
4:35 pm DDDD
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They say when you die, the whole world suddenly falls in love with you. A bitter truth, half sarcasm,
half lament.
When Julian exited the post, I noticed the trending hashtags below:
#Julian, Last Survivor of the Disaster#
#Julian, Devoted Man#
#WasJulianWithHarperAtTheTime#
The first few were old hashtags. When I saw the ones below, my breath hitched for a moment.
This was a new trending topic, and though it hadn’t fully exploded yet, it was gaining traction because many other survivors were starting to speak out. Julian didn’t click on it; he just scrolled up and refreshed the post.
I watched as the hashtag climbed higher and higher, its data skyrocketing, more and more people seeing it.
I suddenly felt a rush of tension, hoping Julian would click and see, but he didn’t. He paused for a long time, lost in thought. Finally, as if fleeing, he turned off the screen and stood up. Perhaps he’d been crouching too long; he stumbled as he rose, almost falling. Just like I had once, scrambling awkwardly from the ground, while he looked down on me.
But now, our positions were reversed; I was looking down at him. I could finally admit that after all this time, I had let go of my feelings for Julian. His face no longer made my heart flutter, and his belated love no longer softened me. I thought, *it’s time for me to let go.*
7
