The Spaces Between Us

MIRA I used to think that dying would feel dramatic. I thought there would be warning signs that were impossible to ignore. I thought life would stop for a moment and give you enough time to prepare yourself before everything changed. I was wrong. The scary thing about losing time is that it doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t knock on your door and tell you that your days are numbered. It quietly slips into your life, hiding between ordinary mornings and familiar routines, waiting for the moment you finally realize that something isn’t right. By then, it might already be too late. The first time it happened, I didn’t think much of it. I was sitting in class, listening to my teacher discuss a lesson I can’t even remember now. One second, I was taking notes. The next, I was staring at the same page, unable to remember what I had just written. It only lasted a few seconds. Maybe less. When I came back to myself, everyone else was still listening. Nobody seemed to notice anything strange. So I convinced myself that it wasn’t important. Stress, I thought. Lack of sleep. Maybe I was just tired. That was easier to believe. A few days later, it happened again. And then again. And again. The episodes became part of my routine before I even realized they were becoming a problem. I stopped questioning them. I stopped paying attention. I became good at pretending. Good enough that nobody noticed. At least, that’s what I thought. Because the truth is, somebody did notice. And if I had known that one random transfer student would eventually become the most important person in my life, I probably would’ve laughed. Or maybe I would’ve walked away before everything became complicated. Before he learned my secrets. Before I learned his. Before we started becoming something neither of us expected. Sometimes I wonder if things would’ve hurt less that way. But then I remember his smile. The one he rarely showed. The one that always felt like a victory whenever I managed to see it. And suddenly, I don’t regret meeting him anymore. Not even a little. Even if every beautiful thing that happened after came with a countdown neither of us could stop. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: Some people enter your life for years. Some stay forever. And some arrive only for a season. Yet somehow leave enough memories to last a lifetime. This is the story of how I met Calix Navarro. This is the story of how I fell in love. And this is the story of everything I lost along the way.