It was the first day of spring.
The kind of morning that poets romanticize —
where petals drift down like blessings,
and sunlight wraps around your skin like a gentle promise.
But inside me?
Winter.
The kind of winter that doesn’t freeze your skin —
but your voice, your joy, your very soul.
I sat on the old white stone bench behind the library —
my secret place.
A place where no one looked,
and I didn’t have to pretend.
The cherry blossoms had started blooming above it,
but I couldn’t lift my head to notice.
My hands gripped my sleeves.
Not from the cold.
But from the ache of holding too much for too long.
There’s a kind of sadness that builds quietly —
a grief without a name.
Tears didn’t fall in heavy sobs.
They stayed trapped.
Like they’d been told they had no permission to exist.
But I felt them —
in the tightness of my throat,
in the way my chest rose too carefully,
in the weight of simply sitting still.
I thought no one would find me.
And honestly… I didn’t want to be found.
Until…
A shadow.
Not threatening.
Not loud.
Just… warm.
It fell over me like shade on a sunny day —
a break, not a disturbance.
Then came the voice.
Unfamiliar.
But calm, and oddly kind.
> “You know today is spring’s first day,
and you are wasting it… crying?”
I didn’t look at him.
I wasn’t ready to be seen.
But something in his voice didn’t feel like judgment.
It felt like… curiosity.
He sat beside me.
Not too close.
Just close enough that I could feel his presence —
like a silent offering.
And then he said, in a voice softer than the wind:
> “When you see a red rose, it looks beautiful.
But the rose is sad… it’s alone.
Still, it’s red —
because even sadness can bloom.”
I blinked.
A tear slipped down before I could stop it.
But for once, I didn’t feel ashamed.
Because no one had ever spoken to my sadness like that.
Not with pity.
Not with a need to fix it.
Just… acknowledgment.
He didn’t ask what was wrong.
Didn’t demand answers or explanations.
He let the silence breathe.
And in that stillness,
something inside me cracked —
not in a breaking way,
but in a thawing kind of way.
I looked up.
Not at him.
I couldn’t.
But I looked at the sky —
soft blue, scattered clouds,
a world still turning.
And in that moment,
I saw hope.
Not the loud kind.
But the kind that sits quietly in your chest,
just waiting to be noticed.
I smiled.
Not for him.
Not for anyone.
Just for me.
A small one.
Shaky.
But real.
He stayed for a few more minutes,
silent.
Then stood up and walked away,
leaving behind nothing but presence.
And yet…
he’d left behind everything.
That night, I opened my diary.
The one with no name on the cover.
The one filled with words I never shared.
And I wrote:
> “A boy sat next to my sadness today.
He didn’t try to erase it.
He just shared it.
And somehow,
I didn’t feel so alone.”
That was the first day of spring.
And maybe —
just maybe —
the first day I let light back in.
Because of him i smile for the first time .
It was a day of spring.
The air smelled of new beginnings.
Soft petals danced in sunlight.
But inside me… winter still ruled.
I sat on the white stone bench behind the library — the place I always went to disappear.
My eyes held too many storms.
My chest ached from holding things I never said.
I wasn’t crying loudly.
Just quietly… in that way where the silence becomes unbearable.
My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my sleeve.
The world moved fast, but I was stuck in slow motion.
I didn’t want to be found.
And yet…
A shadow appeared beside me.
Not heavy.
Just… warm.
Then a voice — calm and curious.
> “You know today is spring’s first day, and you are wasting it… crying?”
I didn’t move.
Didn’t look.
Not right away.
But something about the way he said it — like he wasn’t mocking me, just wondering — made my breath hitch.
He sat beside me.
Didn’t ask who I was.
Didn’t ask what I was hiding from.
Just said,
> “When you see a red rose, it looks beautiful.
But the rose is sad… it’s alone.
Still, it’s red — because even sadness can bloom.”
I swallowed hard.
No one had ever spoke
That night, I wrote in my diary — the one with no name on the cover:
> “A boy sat next to my sadness today.
He didn’t try to erase it.
He just shared it.
And suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone.”
