I can’t sleep.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Luna’s face, the way she looked at me like she didn’t know me at all.

It’s this hollow feeling in my chest that just won’t go away, and it’s driving me crazy. I messed up—I know that. But knowing it doesn’t help. It doesn’t change the fact that I hurt her and now she hates me.

I roll over in bed, staring at my phone, half-expecting her name to pop up, but I know better. She’s not going to call me, and she’s definitely not going to text me.

Still, I keep hoping, stupidly, that maybe the flowers did the trick like in theovies and now she is ready to forgive me.

She made it clear she needs time and space and I respect that but I can’t just sit here waiting. I need to do something.

The next day, I corner her best friend Mia by her locker. She raises an eyebrow when she sees me, and I know this is weird but desperate times.

“Hello heartbreak, cheater, bitch, What do you want?”

“I prefer Naomi and I need advice,” I say, almost too quickly. “I need advice about… how to fix things with Luna.”

She chuckles then stares at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m serious,” I say, my voice coming out more desperate than I’d like. “I don’t know… what to do. I apologized but she still won't talk to me. And it's been days.”

She sighs, crossing her arms tighter. “Naomi, this isn’t something you can fix overnight. You hurt her. She’s not just going to forgive you because you show up with an apology.”

“I know that,” I say, my stomach twisting. “But I want to show her that I’m sorry, that it’s not just words. I thought maybe… I don’t know, you might have an idea of what I could do to prove it.”

Mia shakes her head, her gaze softening a little, but there’s still a hardness there.

“Look, I can’t speak for Luna. And honestly, if you’re serious, then you’ll have to figure this out on your own. But you have to understand her, like really understand her.”

“Understand her?”

“Yeah,” Mia says, looking at me like it should’ve been obvious. “Luna is one hell of a good person and flowers won't fix shit. Take your time, get in her shoes and try to understand why she doesn't want to go at it again with you. Then maybe after that, you will find a better way to get through to her.”

I feel a fresh wave of guilt as I realize how little effort I’ve actually made to imagine what Luna could be going through. I've been so selfish to make myself feel better that I was starting to forget she is the real victim here.

After school, I find myself at the library, checking out books on photography basics.

Mia was wrong to call me mean names but she was right about one thing, I need to invest my time into trying to understand Luna. And I think photography is where to start.

I grab one on photojournalism, figuring that learning something Luna’s passionate about might at least help me connect with her somehow.

I flip through the pages, feeling out of my depth with the technical terms, but there’s something about the process that reminds me of her.

She’s so precise, so careful with everything she does. And it hits me that I barely ever noticed that about her before.

I spend the weekend trying to learn as much as I can, taking random photos on my phone, experimenting with angles and light, anything that might help me understand even a sliver of what Luna sees in this.

Each shot is terrible, but I keep going.

Then I remember her contest. I wasn’t paying attention then, but I am now, and I realize that showing up there might be my best chance to make things right.

Not with flowers, not with grand gestures, but by being there for her, even if she doesn’t want to see me.

When I finally tell Sarah I’m planning to go to Luna’s contest, she just looks at me like she’s not sure if I’m being brave or stupid.

“You really think showing up there is a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I have to try.”

She sighs. “If you’re serious about this, Naomi, fine. But don’t go expecting anything. She might not want to talk to you, and you need to be okay with that.”

“I know,” I say. “It’s the least I can do.”

The contest is only like two days ahead and I'm all nervous like I'm the one who will put up a show for the people. But today there are preparations going on like what needs to be here and whose corner this is. Mia mentioned Luna would be at the gallery.

I don’t dress up or bring anything flashy, just a simple note I wrote apologizing again.

I slip it into my pocket, knowing I’ll only give it to her if she wants it. Otherwise, I’ll keep it as a reminder of what I put her through.

When I step into the gallery, the lights are low and there's chatter and lots of movements.

I wander through the busy rooms then I spot her across the room. She’s talking to someone, her expression tense but focused, her gaze scanning the crowd.

She has a full yellow tshirts and a black overalls. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail and her eyes are sharp. There's a small smile on her lips which will disappear when she sees me but I take the chance.

When her eyes land on me, she freezes. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but I know it’s too soon to approach her. I just nod, letting her know I’m here, and step back to give her space.

I stay on the sidelines, until when the crowd starts dispersing that, I finally muster the courage to walk over.

“Luna,” I say softly, holding out the note. God I'm shaking.

“I don’t expect you to read this right now. Or ever, honestly. But I wanted you to have it.”

She stares at the note for a moment. My heart is beating so fast, I'm terrified of what she’ll say.

But she just takes it from my hand, making sure our fingers don't brush like I have a lethal infection.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t turn away either. And as she slips the note into her pocket, I feel the tiniest spark of hope.

It’s not forgiveness, but it’s something.

I just hope she won't burn the freaking note!