Sadness hits hard. Sometimes you feel like crying but hold it in. When it does happen, it occurs when none can see or hear. The tears fall down, muffled. There is no wailing or weeping—just silent sobs holding in all that's pent up. Like in a magical fairy tale where the prince rescues the awaiting princess, we wait, hoping for answers. But such isn't life. If you want something, you have to ask, seek, and knock. It requires great patience and faith to do so. Life isn't easy.
Take what you have and turn it into hope. Look at what you have; don't restrict it. A small seed can grow into a big tree. You'll need to water it regularly. Tend to it; don't leave it hanging. That's your future. You have a talent. Falling down once or three times does not mean failure. It means you have the perseverance to try again and again—the grit and quiet hope that one day you will make it. Your talent is yours alone. It may seem similar to others, but it isn't the same.
You're not a copy. One in a billion. Only you exist in this world.
"Joel, look at this painting! It's so pretty, it reminds me of—"
He leans over me, his arms wrapping around me, his fingers twirling in my hair. "Are you tired?"
"No, I'm not," he answers, leaning closer, his head resting on my shoulder. "You smell sweet, Adah." His fingers circle slowly along my neck. "Joel, don't you think you're quite close?"
"No, I don't. But if you don't like it, I'll stick to holding your hand tightly for now."
"That's good… for now?" He wrinkles his nose lightly, smiling. "I'll hold you tighter when we go back to the chalet." I try to cover his mouth, but I don't reach.
"Don't you have a boundary for public displays of affection?"
"Not when it comes to you, Adah," he says quietly, his teeth grazing my finger.
My breath catches.
"What? Don't you want to get cozy with me when we go back?" I playfully smack his arm, walking away. "What are you saying?!"
"I do. I'll hold you very close and snuggle with you."
I lightly scoff. "Don't say snuggle. It sounds so cheesy."
"Do you mind cheesy when it's me?"
A smile betrays me. "I don't."
Walking on the snowy roads to the chalet, the sun starts to set. The air is cold enough to sting my cheeks. I've never talked this much with someone without thinking about what to say. With him, the words just come.
"Dad, we're back." Mr. Sali walks by us saying hello, then turns back. "Where are Bae and David? Did you not go out with them?"
"They wanted to stay out a bit longer than us, so they'll be back in about thirty minutes," I say, removing my coat.
"Alright, I'll start grilling the chicken and the meat." Mr. Sali walks toward the kitchen. "Adah, I'll be helping my dad in the kitchen. Is there anything you want to do in the meantime?"
"Can I set the table and help in the kitchen?"
"You setting the table is enough. You don't need to hurry. My parents are leaving for Vancouver today around six and coming back tomorrow. They needed to pick up extra decorations for the Christmas Ball."
"Okay, I'll go wash my hands first." Standing in the bathroom, I look at my reflection. My finger traces slowly over my lips.
"Dad, can you add a different sauce to Adah's chicken wings?"
"A different sauce?" Joel picks up the seasoning. "This one. Can you show me how you make it? I mean, how you make it for Mom?" A bright smile rests on Mr. Salis face. "Oh, that. It's not really a sauce, but I'll show you how to do it."
Bae and David arrive carrying multiple bags. It almost looks as if they've emptied every boutique in Whistler.
The night stretches long, and we sit around the table talking before deciding with rock, paper, scissors who does the dishes.
"Aren't you tired, Joel?"
He looks refreshed. "No, I'm not. It's only nine. What? Are you tired?"
A small yawn slips out.
He rubs my cheeks softly. "Are you really that tired? Come here," he says in a low voice, lifting me onto my bed.
"I'm not that tired; I only yawned a bit." I glance around the room.
"Is there a window open? It's cold. Don't you feel cold?" He tilts his head toward me. "No, I'm fine. I'll close it if you are. I also have a question. Will you still choose the university you first thought of choosing ?"
"I will."
He watches me a moment longer than usual. "Good," he says quietly — though something unreadable flickers in his eyes.
"It means I can meet you almost every single day. I heard you and Bae are going to the same uni. I'm going to the same one as David."
I raise my eyebrows. "Do you and David have the same choice? Has he finally chosen what he wants to do now?"
"Yes, he has. And you should too. Your musical talent is not something you should discard. Your dream is to write books and turn them into movies, with the music you create."
"It may be hard, but I believe you can make it. Sure, having a university degree is amazing. But so is using the talents God has given you. If you don't know how to use them, ask Him."
"I've actually figured out what to do," I say, unable to hide my smile.
We talk for hours — about future endeavors, dreams, aspirations — laughter filling the room.
"What's the time?" I reach for my phone. "It's eleven-thirty. We talked that long?"
The room suddenly feels quieter. He leans closer. I become aware of the space between us — smaller now.
His eyes lift to mine as if asking a question without words. He moves and sits in front of me.
"My neck hurts from looking sideways," he says, placing his hand on the headboard, his eyes scanning me.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Adah," he half-whispers my name. "Yes."
He bites his lip. "Please?"
"Please, what?" I am fully aware of what he wants.
"What's with the smile when you know how bad I want to kiss you?" His blushing face makes me smile in return.
"Kiss me where?"
He traces his fingers along my cheek, neck, hands, and ears. "Everywhere you'll allow me. But I won't do it in an improper way, if that's what you're worried about."
"I'm not worried about that. I trust you."
"Then please say yes — I'm begging you. I want to kiss your lips. Nothing more."
"I know, and it's okay," I whisper, letting him feel my trust. My hands tighten slightly in his.
He presses a gentle kiss to my lips. I feel like I'm melting. Everything else falls away, leaving only this perfect, quiet moment between us. He softly holds my hands, looking straight into my eyes with a warmth that makes the world fade.
"I never knew the taste of someone could be this addicting." He rubs my hands, kissing them. "Adah, I love you."
"I love you too," I respond, turning my head slightly.
"Don't go shy on me now. Not when you've stirred me up like this." He softly turns my face toward him.
"Then how am I supposed to act?" I mumble. "You're my first kiss."
"You're my first kiss too. Was it okay?" He smiles knowingly. I place my hands over his mouth playfully. "Why would you ask that? Of course it was good."
He slowly nibbles on my finger — an unusual sensation, different from before.
"You really get me going," he says. That shift in his eyes is back: comfortable yet lost in a trance.
"You really make me want more of you. Every time I'm with you, I want to hear you speak, see you smile, watch you laugh. I know it may seem weird, but I love it when you're ecstatic. Seeing you like that sends me to cloud nine."
I rub his cheek and smile, discovering just how closely he's always been paying attention.
Let the rivers flow—
Don't suppress its surge.
One of a kind.
You're beloved.
A avalanche of love—
is what your surroundings are.
It runs through the atmosphere.
Gentleness and self control.
Calmly cherish, with words of affirmation.
Spread your wings—
with your knowledge.
One who pays attention.
Is a treasure to keep forever.