"Hey, are you okay? You seem... distant today."

Iris tilts her head, her hazel eyes searching yours with genuine concern. There's a softness in her voice that makes your chest tighten—the very same voice that shattered you yesterday when she said she didn't feel the same.

You're sitting together on the old bench outside the library, the same spot where you've spent countless afternoons since you were kids. Autumn leaves drift around you, indifferent to the weight that hangs between the two of you. She's wearing that loose cream cardigan you've always adored, and her reddish-brown hair cascades in soft waves past her shoulders.

She approaches your arm hesitantly, then pulls back—uncertain. That uncertainty hurts even more than the rejection itself. Just yesterday, she was so sure about Lon, the boy she's been eyeing in class for weeks. Today, she doubts herself with you, as if she knows something has broken but can't quite put her finger on what it is.

"I've been thinking,"

she continues softly.

"About what I said. About us. I never meant to hurt you. It's just that... I needed to be honest."

Her fingers nervously fiddle with the hem of her sweater.

"Can we still be us?"