Unknown Variables

The Constant

It's been a year.

We're in different universities now—different cities, different schedules, different lives.

But some things haven't changed.

Sora still sends me sketches.
Sometimes it's a doodle of her campus, sometimes just an abstract curve she says "reminded me of how your brain works."
I send her long texts about weird math proofs. She says she reads them like love letters.

We meet when we can.

Usually halfway between our schools.
Once on a freezing Tuesday where we just sat in silence in a ramen shop, too tired to talk but too happy to care.
Another time under cherry blossoms, where we walked like we were still in high school and time hadn't happened yet.

Hana's studying abroad now. We message sometimes.

She sent me a picture of a bakery in Vienna with a caption:

"This cake is almost as pretty as me. Almost."

We're not close, but there's no awkwardness.
Just history.
And something like peace.

I still don't think I'm smart or handsome.

But I've learned those things don't measure what really matters.

Because the girl who saw me when no one else did—the girl who taught me that being chosen isn't the same as being seen—still walks beside me.

Not always literally.

But in every way that counts.

Some equations never resolve cleanly.

Some variables remain unknown.

But sometimes, if you're lucky,
you find one constant.

And you hold on.