The day Sharon was supposed to leave, the sky was overcast, the clouds heavy but holding back the rain.
Pearl stood by the gates, her fingers curled tightly around the straps of her bag, the breeze brushing against her hair. Her eyes searched for him in every car that passed, every figure walking across the grounds.
And then she saw him.
Sharon, with his sketchbook tucked under his arm, walking toward her with slow, careful steps, as if he was memorizing every inch of the path. When he saw her, his shoulders relaxed, a soft, sad smile spreading across his lips.
"Star," he called, his voice warm despite the heaviness in the air.
Pearl blinked back the tears, taking a step closer, her hands trembling as they reached for his. "You're really going?"
Sharon nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Just for a while."
Pearl looked down, a tear slipping down her cheek, landing on their joined hands. "How will I laugh without you here to roll your eyes at my jokes?"
Sharon chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. "And who will remind me to eat when I get lost in my drawings?"
They stood there, the silence between them soft, filled with everything they had shared, everything they had built, everything they had become.
Sharon reached into his sketchbook, pulling out a folded piece of paper, pressing it into her hand. "Open it later," he whispered.
Pearl nodded, swallowing hard. "Promise you'll call me when you get there?"
"I promise," he replied.
She looked up, their eyes meeting, holding, memorizing. And then she stepped forward, standing on her toes as she pressed her lips to his, a soft, lingering kiss that tasted like hope, like goodbye, like us.
When they pulled away, tears were in both their eyes, but they were smiling.
"Us, always," Pearl whispered.
"Us, always," Sharon echoed, pressing his forehead to hers one last time before stepping back, his hand slipping from hers, leaving a warmth behind that she knew she would carry forever.
She watched him walk away, the wind tugging at his hair, the sketchbook tucked under his arm, his steps steady.
When he disappeared from view, Pearl looked down at the paper in her hand, unfolding it slowly. Inside was a sketch of her, laughing under the festival rain, eyes bright, hair tangled, alive.
And written beneath it, in his careful handwriting:
**"My Star, wherever I go, I carry you with me.
Thank you for teaching me how first love feels.
— Sharon."**
Pearl pressed the paper to her chest, closing her eyes as tears slipped down her cheeks, her heart aching but glowing.
Because she knew that no matter where life took them, no matter how far apart they were, some stories didn't end.
Some stories stayed alive, in every shared memory, every quiet promise, every soft whisper of "Us, always."
And as Pearl looked up at the sky, letting the breeze kiss her tears away, she smiled.
Because this was their story.
And it was only the beginning.