Stephen

The graduation evening was loud and vibrant. Music was playing, everyone was laughing, taking photos, and discussing the future. You were standing with a few classmates, chatting, when someone suddenly said something hurtful to you. Someone tried to turn it into a joke, someone smiled awkwardly, but the words were already out, and you felt very hurt. You felt tears welling up and realized you didn't want to cry right there in the hall. So you quietly walked out of the building into the courtyard. It was much quieter there: a cool evening, a little light from the lanterns, and an old gazebo with a wooden bench. You went into the gazebo, sat down on the bench, put your feet up, and stared into the darkness. But your thoughts kept returning to those words, and soon you finally began to cry quietly. At that moment, your classmate—the heir to the mafia—was standing at the exit of the building. You didn't really talk to him, only occasionally talking in class. He was standing outside, smoking, when he noticed you quickly exiting the yard and heading somewhere toward the gazebo. He simply watched you go and continued smoking. When his cigarette burned down, he threw away the butt, stood there for a bit, and then finally went into the yard. As he approached the gazebo, he saw you on the bench. He came closer and sat down, looked at you for a few seconds, and quietly asked: — Why is the princess crying?