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Chapter 10: A Different Kind of Love
The new semester rolled in like a quiet breeze—neither loud nor dramatic, but full of promise.
Celine had settled into a rhythm now. Her mornings began with a prayer, followed by tea and an early walk across campus. She no longer walked in shadows. Her strides were purposeful. Her eyes clearer. Her smile returned—not the forced kind, but the genuine kind that came from a healed place.
But love? That remained tucked away.
Not because her heart had turned cold, but because she had learned that true love didn't rush. It didn't demand. It didn't beg to be noticed. It grew, like a tree—rooted in trust, watered by time.
And that's exactly what her friendship with Nathan was becoming: a tree.
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They still saw each other often. Sometimes it was for lunch under the old mango trees; other times it was shared silence in the library, studying side-by-side. He would occasionally leave handwritten notes inside her books:
"You're doing amazing. Don't forget that."
Or:
"You inspire more than you know."
Celine always smiled when she found them. Nathan never signed his name, but she always knew.
Still, she kept her emotional borders firm.
"I don't want to lead you on," she said one evening after a campus fellowship event. "You're kind. You're present. And I care about you deeply… but I still need to figure out who I am outside of anyone else."
Nathan didn't flinch. He looked her in the eyes and simply nodded. "I know. And I'm not waiting for you to be ready for me. I'm just here. For you. However you need."
His words stayed with her for days.
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But life, with all its turns, doesn't always pause for healing.
Nathan's internship was coming to an end. He had applied to a medical program abroad and had just gotten accepted. A prestigious hospital in Canada had offered him a spot to continue his residency.
He told Celine the news gently, unsure of how she would react.
She blinked slowly, heart tightening even though she tried to hide it. "That's… amazing, Nathan. I'm really happy for you."
"I leave in a few months," he said softly. "But I wanted you to hear it from me."
She nodded. The words stung, but she smiled anyway. "Of course. You deserve every good thing coming your way."
But when he left that day, her emotions betrayed her.
Because as much as she had guarded her heart, Nathan had gently found his way in.
Not through declarations of love or extravagant gestures.
But through consistency.
Through kindness.
Through quiet presence.
And now, just as she was learning to breathe again, he was going away.
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Celine wrestled with her feelings in her journal that night.
Why does life always take the good ones when you're just beginning to feel whole again?
But maybe that's the point. Maybe love isn't about keeping. Maybe it's about giving space for others to grow, even if it means letting go.
The old Celine would've begged him to stay.
The new Celine respected his journey.
---
As Nathan's departure date drew nearer, their moments together became even more intentional. They didn't talk about "what ifs" or "maybes." They just lived in the now—laughter over iced drinks, walks between classes, music shared through one earbud.
And one day, near the campus chapel, Nathan surprised her.
He handed her a small, leather-bound notebook.
"What's this?" she asked, running her fingers over the cover.
"Open it," he said.
Inside, the first page read:
"To Celine — a woman becoming. May you always write your own story before letting anyone else write into it."
She teared up. "Nathan… this is beautiful."
"I wanted you to have something to remind you of who you are—even when I'm not around."
Celine looked at him, her chest full of gratitude and something deeper she didn't yet know how to name.
"Thank you," she whispered.
But what she really meant was: Thank you for loving me without asking for anything in return.
---
The day Nathan was set to leave, she walked with him to the gate where the campus shuttle waited.
Neither of them cried. Not because it wasn't painful—but because they both understood something rare and precious had taken place between them.
A love not rushed.
A bond not forced.
He turned to her just before boarding and said, "No matter where I go, I'll carry your strength with me."
And she smiled. "And I'll carry your kindness."
They hugged—tightly, fully. No words. No promises. Just presence.
Then he was gone.
---
Celine stood there for a moment, letting the silence hold her. The breeze brushed her cheeks, and she closed her eyes.
She didn't feel abandoned.
She didn't feel broken.
She felt... calm.
Because for once, a love hadn't left her empty.
It had left her stronger.
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In the weeks that followed, she poured her energy into her studies and mentorship roles. She began leading girls' empowerment sessions on campus, speaking to younger women about self-worth, heartbreak, and growth.
Her voice carried now—not with pain, but with wisdom.
And when people asked her if she was dating, she would smile and say, "No, I'm loving myself."
But in quiet moments, when she wrote in the notebook Nathan gave her or listened to songs they once shared, she still felt him close—not in a painful way, but like a page in her story that shaped her beautifully.
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*"Love doesn't always have to end with 'forever' to be real," she wrote one night.
Sometimes it just has to be true. And Nathan… was true."