Love Before Graduation-Chapter 70: Just Live This Moment

There was no school the next day.

And no plans either.

Just the cold, a sleepy morning, and my blanket—protecting me from the world.

Then suddenly, my phone lit up—

"Get ready. I'm kidnapping you."

Nami had written.

No love confession.

No poetry.

Just a plain command—and in it, a strange kind of love.

The kind that's not declared, just lived.

Half an hour later, she was outside the gate.

In a loose hoodie, like the world didn't concern her.

Holding two coffees.

One for me—so sweet, it tasted like childhood had been stirred into it.

"No questions. Just come with me."

She took my hand.

The way a defeated soldier might clutch a charm.

Through buses, crowds, and the screaming speed of cars,

we reached a park—not on the city map,

but maybe marked on the map of our story.

There was a lake, silence, and us.

She spread out a sheet on the grass and lay down,

like the weight of the world had slipped off her back.

"We need a break—from ghosts, boys, and emotional trauma,"

she said.

I laughed.

She laughed too.

And that laughter could never be written down on paper.

We talked.

Like two burnt-out lamps discussing who's seen more smoke.

From comics to contentment.

From teasing each other when we cried,

to hiding our own tearful eyes in embarrassment.

She leaned towards me, brushed the grass from my hair.

"You look like a fairy,"

she said. Her lips trembled,

but there was a truth in her voice that couldn't be bought in markets.

And when the sun began to set,

she didn't look at me—she looked at the water,

as if something had sunk into it.

"What if I said... you're my favorite person in this stupid world?"

There was no drama there.

No music, no camera.

Just two truths—one speaking, the other listening.

Softly, I replied,

"You're more than that, Nami."

She turned.

Evening had settled into her eyes.

And then—

everything paused.

Like a film reel had come to an end.

Like life had whispered—"Just live this moment now."

I looked at her, then at the sky.

Maybe I was speaking to myself—or maybe to her.

"Two girls—like two shadows walking in the same sunlight.

Not daily talks, not daily meetings,

But whenever they met—time seemed to pause.

No promises, no oaths,

Yet a trust like an old childhood photograph—

A little faded, but somehow the clearest.

Maybe that's what friendship is—

Wordless, but always walking beside you."

She didn't say anything.

Just smiled.

As if she had absorbed every word into her heart.