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The bench overlooked a narrow river that carried the sunset away in slow, rippling strokes of amber and crimson. Every now and then, a breeze skimmed across the water, stirring the reeds along the bank into a soft, whispering chorus. Beyond them, the bridge arched over the current like a patient old guardian, its silhouette darkening against the sky as daylight surrendered to evening.
It was peaceful.
Very peaceful.
… Too peaceful, even.
Yana sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture as composed as always. The fading light painted gold across her pale skin and turned the edges of her blonde hair into threads of gold. Beside her sat Mymy, elbows resting on her knees, staring at the water as though it contained the answer to every question she'd ever been afraid to ask.
Neither of them had spoken for nearly fifteen minutes. It wasn’t awkward or anything.
It was familiar, comfortable…
…It was the kind of silence only existed between two people who had learned each other's rhythms well enough to know that conversation wasn't always necessary.
A bicycle rattled across the bridge overhead, birds called somewhere in the distance, the river continued onward, uncaring.
"...Pretty sunset."
Yana's voice was quiet.
Mymy nodded without looking up.
"It is."
Silence settled over them again.
Yana slowly turned to Mymy.
"You've been unusually quiet today."
"I know."
"Something bothering you?"
"...Yeah."
Yana didn't press, she never did. She was too patient for that. She advocated for peace and justice—she helped old women cross the street and carries groceries for people. She’d look at you and smile as you gave her the middle finger. Instead, she simply waited.
The wind grew colder.
The first stars timidly appeared overhead.
Mymy swallowed.
"...Yana."
"Hm?"
"I have something I need to tell you."
Yana turned to face her completely now, concern softening her features.
"What is it?"
Mymy opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Her heartbeat pounded so loudly she was convinced Yana could hear it.
This wasn't how she'd rehearsed it—She’d practiced hundreds of times: in the mirror, while lying awake at night, walking to school, during class.
Yet somehow...
Now that the moment had finally arrived, her words betrayed her. They rose up in her throat, and got stuck, forming a lump she couldn’t swallow.
Her fingers clenched together until her knuckles turned white.
"I don't know how to say it."
Yana’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“… What?”
"I've never been good with feelings."
"Mymy,what are you sayin-“
"I usually ignore them."
"….”
"I thought this one would disappear."
Yana frowned slightly.
".. Are you okay?”
"No."
The river flowed beneath the bridge, someone laughed somewhere far away—a different life, a different situation.
Mymy finally lifted her head.
Her eyes met Yana's for just a second.
Then she looked away again.
"...I think..."
Her voice cracked embarrassingly. A light pink dusted over Mymy’s tanned cheeks, and she cleared her throat.
"I think..."
Mymy’s breath hitched. Her voice cracked again. This time it sounded painfully close to crying—one wrong word and she’d burst into sobs.
"….I practiced this."
Yana gave a tiny, encouraging nod, still cleqrly concerned.
"You can do it."
"...I don't think I can."
Mymy inhaled, held it, and then exhaled slowly.
"...I love you."
The words were almost too quiet to hear.
The world didn't react—no, no, the world just didn’t react, the world didn’t care. The river kept moving, the birds kept singing, the wind still drifted through the trees.
But among the two girls.
Time stopped.
Nothing extravagant or heavy. Just a pregnant pause of silence.
Mymy continued before courage escaped her.
"I don't mean as a friend. I, I’ve tried to. i really tried. Itold myself it was envy- en, envy that you were a new girl running for class representative, and winning.
A pause. Mymy took a breath. If she didn’t, she’d surely cry.
"I told myself a hundred lies- but, but, every morning, you're the first person I hope to see."
Her breathing shook.
"...God."
She covered her face with one trembling hand.
"I sound pathetic."
Yana hadn't moved.
"I don't expect anything. I'm not asking you to date me. I, I just..."
She swallowed.
"I couldn't keep pretending, I, I couldn’t keep lying to myself and lying to you.”
A pause.
"I just .. wanted you to know."
A second pause.
"...That's all."
The confession floated between them like fragile glass.
The tension was thick enough to cut with glass.
Yana looked conflicted. Her eyebrows furrowed, her face scrunched up, and her smile faded.
Yana slowly turned to stare at the river, at her reflection, like it would feed her the answer she was so desperately serching for right now.
The silence stretched: five seconds, ten, fifteen, twenty.
"...Mymy."
Just hearing her name like that made Mymy's stomach drop.
There was an apology hidden inside those two syllables.
"I..."
Yana looked down at her own hands.
"… Growing up, my parents taught me one thing.”
… What did she mean by that? Mymy’s breath hitched, her hands fisting her skirt until her knuckles turned white.
"Homosexuality was a sin. It was forbidden. Looked down upon. If I were gay, my mom, she’d kick me out .. and send me straight to live with my Auntie’s.”
Was this it? Was Yana about to admit she secretly liked girls and was hiding it from her parents and actually liked Mymy back and-
“I’m sorry.”
.. Oh.
Oh.
Oh, okay then.
“I have to stay true to my beliefs. I have to follow what my parents taught me, what, what I was raised to know.”
Yana continued, looking anywhere but Mymy directly in the eye.
“… okay.”
Mymy said quietly. No tears, no dramatic wails or sobs, no begging, no denial, no droppjng to her knees.
Just simple, straight acceptance.
Yana slowly stood.
"I think..."
She hesitated.
"...I should go."
Mymy nodded.
"Probably."
Mymy looked back toward the river.
"...Have a safe walk home."
Yana lingered, just for a heartbeat longer than normal.
Then...
She turned.
Footsteps echoed softly against the pavement: one, two, three, growing quieter at the distance slowly forming inbetween them. Metaphorically, and literally.
Mymy didn't look back.
She couldn't.
Eventually...
The footsteps disappeared completely.
Only then did she realize how empty the bench had become. The space beside her still held the faint warmth where Yana had been sitting moments ago.
It would fade soon, just like the sunlight.
The sky darkened from orange to violet. The first streetlights flickered awake. The bridge cast a long shadow across the river.
Her phone buzzed, a message from Coco: “WH3R R U!!!!!£)?£?”
Mymy ignored it, she stared at the water instead until the tears she'd been holding finally escaped.
One.
Then another.
Then another.
There was no dramatic sob, no scream, no collapse.
Just silent tears slipping down her face while she continued staring ahead.
The bench suddenly felt far too large for one person, too large for her.
She remembered every small moment she'd mistaken for possibility, and every smile she'd overanalyzed.
None of them had been lies, really! Yana had cared. Just... Not like that.
That somehow hurt the most.
Because there was no villain—no betrayal, no cruelty …
…Only honesty.
And Honesty was gentle, honesty was kind, honesty still broke her heart.
Around her, the world kept spinning. The world kept moving. People continued with their day-to-day lifes—a father carrying his child throwing a temper tantrum, a cashier leaning outside a store for a smoke break, a dog behind a gate barking at a cyclist passing by ..
Above her, the last streak of orange disappeared beyond the horizon.
Night arrived quietly.
There was no one left to hear her.
Only the river, only the bridge ….
… and only herself.