GOODBYES

The day after graduation, everything felt weird.

The cap and gown were still hanging on my chair. My mom had taped my diploma to the fridge like it was a drawing from kindergarten. And my little brother kept calling me "Mr. Graduate" every five minutes like he was a game show host.

But inside, I felt… strange. Like I was halfway between something and something else.

I guess that's what graduation is.

A big ending.

And a beginning you're not ready for.

---

The day after the ceremony, Amethyst sent a message.

"Hey. Can we talk tomorrow? I have something to tell you."

I stared at the text for a full minute before replying.

"Sure."

I didn't know what to expect. My stomach felt like it was full of bees. Not butterflies—those are too gentle. These were bees. Nervous, loud bees.

We met at our usual bench near the tennis courts. The same place where she ended things last year. The grass was greener now, and the chalk lines were faded. The bench creaked when I sat down.

She was already there.

She smiled when she saw me, and I smiled back, even though my heart was pounding like crazy.

"I'm moving to Manila," she said. "For college."

"Oh."

She waited, like she thought I'd say more.

"That's… that's cool," I finally said, nodding too fast. "Manila. Big city. Lotta jeepneys."

She laughed. "Yeah. And art schools. And mangoes."

"Mangoes?"

"They have the best mangoes," she said seriously.

We both smiled. But it was one of those smiles where your face tries to be happy, but your heart is somewhere else.

"How long?" I asked.

"I leave in two weeks."

My stomach dropped a little. I tried not to show it.

"You're gonna do amazing," I said. "They'll probably put your art in museums. With fancy lights and everything."

She grinned. "Thanks, Tan-tan."

Then her face softened.

"I'm really glad we stayed friends," she said. "Even when things got weird."

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

And I meant it.

Even if it still hurt a little sometimes.

Even if it always might.

---

That night, I couldn't sleep.

Again.

I kept thinking about her leaving. About how this really was the end of something.

No more surprise hallway chats.

No more sharing milkshakes.

No more almosts.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I wrote her a letter.

Not a text. Not a poem. A real letter. On paper. With my clumsy handwriting and all.

I started it five times. I ripped up three versions. My trash can looked like a paper snowstorm.

But finally, it came out right.

---

Dear Amethyst,

I don't know if I'll ever say all this out loud, so I'm writing it instead.

I just wanted to say thank you. For the almosts. For the laughter. For the friendship. For letting me feel something big, even if it didn't turn out the way I hoped.

I loved you. I think a small part of me always will. But I'm okay now. Not fake-okay. Real okay. The kind where I can smile and mean it.

I hope Manila treats you well. I hope your art fills the sky. And I hope you find someone who sees you the way I did—completely.

Thank you for being my best friend.

Love,

Nathan

---

I folded it carefully and stuck it in a small envelope. No stickers. No glitter. Just clean and simple, like I wanted the words to speak for themselves.

The next day, we met one last time.

She wore a bright yellow shirt that made her look like sunlight.

I gave her the letter.

"What's this?" she asked, looking curious.

"Something for later," I said. "Don't read it now."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is this like one of those movie things? Where the guy pours his heart out?"

"Maybe," I said.

"Is there a secret confession inside?"

"Definitely not," I said, too fast.

She smirked. "Sounds like there is."

I rolled my eyes. "Just read it when you get to Manila. Okay?"

She nodded, slipping the letter into her bag. "Okay. Deal."

We hugged goodbye.

It felt warm and sad and soft all at once.

And then she walked away.

This time, I didn't stay sitting on the bench.

This time, I walked too.

---

The next day, Clarisse and I went out for ice cream.

Because she said I looked "too emo" to stay home.

She ordered pistachio because she's weird. I got cookies and cream because I have taste.

"So, how was your Big Goodbye?" she asked, licking her neon green scoop.

"I gave her a letter."

"Oooh," she said, eyebrows up. "Did you profess your love in it? Swear your eternal loyalty? Quote Shakespeare?"

"Just some honest stuff," I said.

Clarisse smiled. "Look at you, being all poetic."

"I didn't rhyme anything, okay?"

"I'm still proud," she said. "That's growth."

We sat under the umbrella table, letting the summer sun warm our arms.

"Do you think she'll cry when she reads it?" I asked.

"Nah," Clarisse said. "She'll probably smile. Maybe hug her pillow. Or throw it across the room. Depends on how emotional she is."

"Cool. Cool cool cool."

I stared into my melting ice cream.

"I just hope she reads it," I said.

Clarisse froze mid-bite.

"…You did make sure she kept it, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "She put it in her bag."

Clarisse raised one eyebrow. "Was it zipped?"

"I mean… maybe?"

She stared at me.

"Oh no," I said.

---

The next few days were chaos.

Amethyst posted a story of her at the airport. One with her suitcase and passport. One with her cousins eating Jollibee at the terminal.

I watched them all like a silent creeper.

But she never said anything about the letter.

No "thank you." No emoji reaction. Nothing.

My heart started to feel weird again.

Like it was wearing shoes that didn't fit.

Did she hate it?

Did she cry?

Did she throw it away?

Did she even see it?

I tried not to text her.

Really, I did.

But on the fourth day, I cracked.

---

Me: "Hey… random question… do you still have the letter I gave you?"

A whole hour passed.

Then she replied.

---

Amethyst:"Wait… what letter?"

---

I sat up in bed like a zombie coming back to life.

Me: "The envelope I gave you before you left. You put it in your bag??"

Amethyst: "Oh no…"

Me: "No???"

Amethyst: "I just found it on the floor of my cousin's car."

Me: "WHAT."

Amethyst: "It fell out of my bag!! I didn't even know it was missing!"

Me: "Did you read it??"

Amethyst: "Not yet. I feel like I just discovered a long-lost scroll."

Me: "Great. Now I'm nervous."

Amethyst: "Should I read it now?"

Me: "Up to you. But maybe… maybe wait. Until you're alone."

She sent back a little heart emoji.

Then another message.

Amethyst: "Even if I haven't read it yet… thank you. For whatever you wrote. I know it came from a good place."

---

I put my phone down.

My heart felt a little calmer.

A little lighter.

Because maybe it didn't matter when she read it.

Or even if she read it.

Maybe what mattered was that I said it.

That I let it go.

That I meant every word.

---

A few hours later, Clarisse texted me.

Clarisse: "Did she read it?"

Me: "Not yet. She lost it in her cousin's car."

Clarisse: "Bro."

Me: "I KNOW."

Clarisse: "You're the king of Almosts."

Me: "That should be the title of my autobiography."

Clarisse: "Add some dragons and I'll read it."

---

That night, I didn't feel sad.

Not really.

Because the words were still out there, somewhere.

In an envelope.

In a car.

In another city.

Waiting to be read.

And maybe someday, she would open it.

And smile.

And remember the boy who loved her quietly.

But let her go gently.

---

Because love isn't always about holding on.

Sometimes, it's about knowing when to let go.

And still being glad it happened.

Even if it was just an almost.