The Silence Of Lost Feelings

Lumen sat at his desk, the late-night silence wrapping around him like a thick blanket. His room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp, was a world of unfinished sketches and piles of reference materials. But his focus wasn't on the mess or the looming deadlines. His mind was fixed on one thing: graduation.

He had made up his mind. After months of quiet reflection and uncertainty, Lumen had come to the conclusion that he could still make things right with Lina. He could still win her back or atleast tell her it was a lie. He wasn't the same person he had been when she had asked him who he liked and he had lied to her. He had learned, he had grown, and now, he was ready to prove it. The plan was simple: after graduation, he would confess his feelings to Lina. He would show her everything he had worked for—his growth, his accomplishments, and most importantly, the portfolio of sketches he had poured his heart into.

The sketches were all inspired by her. They weren't perfect, and they weren't intended to be. They were pieces of him, fragments of what he had been feeling for the past year, shaped into something tangible. He had started sketching again after his walk by the river, and from there, the inspiration had come flooding back. He had drawn landscapes that reminded him of the places they had gone together—picturesque views from the hilltops, the benches where they had shared quiet conversations, the street where they had walked side by side, their feet in sync. Each sketch held a memory, a feeling that only she could understand.

But as Lumen worked through the nights, the uncertainty began to creep in once again. What if his plan didn't work? What if his confession wasn't enough? He wasn't foolish enough to believe that accomplishments alone could win someone's heart, but he thought it might show her that he was serious—serious about growing, serious about becoming the person she had always believed in, serious about the possibility of them.

He couldn't shake the fear of rejection that gnawed at him. Lina was happy with Jun now but he wasn't quite aware of it yet, and in his quiet moments of reflection, Lumen wondered if he had missed his chance. The thought of facing her, of seeing her with someone else, filled him with dread. But he couldn't stay in this limbo forever. The fear of not trying was even greater than the fear of failure. If he never told her how he felt, he would never know what could have been.

Lumen stood up from his desk, stretching his arms overhead before walking over to his portfolio. He hadn't looked at it in hours, too caught up in the rush of creating new pieces. The leather-bound folder felt heavy in his hands, not from the weight of the paper inside, but from the gravity of the decision it represented. He opened it slowly, one page at a time. Each sketch was a reflection of his journey—a journey he hoped Lina would understand. But a part of him feared that it wasn't enough. That the sketches, the effort, the changes he had made in himself, wouldn't be enough to erase the distance between them.

He stopped on a particular sketch—a simple one of the two of them sitting together on a park bench, their heads slightly turned towards each other, their eyes meeting but not fully locking. It was a small, intimate moment—a moment that had always felt so right in his memory. And yet, now, it seemed like an impossible dream, like a scene from a life he had once known but no longer could grasp.

Lumen touched the paper gently, as if trying to reach back to that time, trying to feel the warmth that had existed between them. But the page was cold now, a silent reminder of what had been lost. His throat tightened as the weight of the moment sank in. He could still remember how easy it had been to talk to Lina back then, to laugh with her, to share his hopes and dreams. But those conversations had stopped. The ease had been replaced with hesitation, with questions that went unanswered.

But despite everything, despite the fear, Lumen refused to give up. He had promised himself that he would give it everything he had. He would show Lina what she meant to him, through his work, through his dedication, through his own transformation. He would prove that he had changed, that he was more than the person he had been when he had let her slip away.

Graduation was just around the corner, and with it, his chance to change everything. He couldn't let it pass by without at least trying.

Lumen closed the portfolio with a determined snap, feeling the weight of his decision settle firmly on his shoulders. It was time to stop doubting, time to stop second-guessing. He had put in the work, both in his art and in himself. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. And for once, he had to believe that would be enough.

He turned off the desk lamp and looked around his room one last time before heading to bed. Tomorrow would be another day of sketches, another day of preparation. But more than that, it would be a step closer to the moment when he would finally tell Lina everything he had been holding inside.

The thought of facing her—of finally speaking the truth—terrified him, but he knew it was the only way forward. For Lumen, this was the beginning of something bigger than just art. It was about facing his own fears, confronting his past mistakes, and finally stepping into the future, ready to take a chance on what could be.