Maya always loved New Year’s Eve. Not for the champagne, the resolutions, or the raucous parties—but for the fireworks. Every year, without fail, she’d find a spot under the open sky, watching as the night exploded into cascades of shimmering lights.  

Years ago, it had been different. She wasn’t alone then. It was their tradition, hers and Finn’s. They’d huddle together on a couch, waiting for the clock to strike midnight.  

As they waited, they’d talk for hours, letting their conversations wander freely, like the stars scattered across the sky. They’d laugh until their sides ached, reminiscing about embarrassing moments, sharing dreams they’d never told anyone, and debating silly questions like what superpower they’d want or what kind of animal they want to be.  

“You’re impossible,” Maya would say, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.  

“And yet, here you are, stuck with me,” Finn would reply, his grin wide enough to rival the crescent moon above.  

When the fireworks finally began, they’d pause, their chatter silenced by the spectacle of light and sound. Finn would look at Maya then, his expression soft and full of something unspoken. He’d always tilt her chin up at the first burst of color, sealing the moment with a kiss that felt like a promise, like a perfect punctuation mark to their endless conversations.  

But life, unpredictable as the sparks in the sky, took them on separate paths. Their breakup was quiet, mutual, but it left a void so deep that Maya wasn’t sure if time could ever fill it.  

Still, every New Year’s Eve, she returned to their spot. Alone now and she waited for the fireworks.  

She didn’t go to mourn the end of their story. No, she went to remember. Each burst of color in the sky brought back a piece of him—the way his eyes lit up like the golden sparks, the way his laughter echoed like the crackling finale, the way they used to talk and laugh as if the world existed only for them.  

People often asked why she still celebrated alone, why she loved the fireworks so much. She’d smile softly and say, “They remind me of the best moments in my life.”  

Deep down, Maya knew she hadn’t stopped loving Finn. The fireworks were her silent message to the universe, a way of saying she still cherished him. Each flickering light was a whisper to the past, a hope that somewhere, he might remember too.  

As the clock struck midnight, Maya looked up at the sky ablaze with light. “Happy New Year, Finn,” she whispered, her words lost in the roaring crowd.  

Far away, under a different sky, Maya closed her eyes, hoping with all her heart that Finn felt the same as she did.  

-AMS