I couldn't stop thinking about him. Even now, hours after that fleeting moment, his laugh echoed in my mind, like a song I shouldn't know but couldn't forget.
My phone buzzed. I hesitated. It was a message from him. "Did you get home okay?"
I typed back quickly, pretending calm. "Yeah… all good. You?"
No response. Of course. Typical. But part of me hoped he'd check on me more, maybe even offer to come back. Silly, I told myself. He was never mine.
By morning, the sting of reality hadn't dulled. I tried to focus on schoolwork, but every glance at my phone made my stomach twist. And then… I saw him. Across the campus courtyard, laughing with someone else. Someone new.
My chest tightened. Why did it hurt so much? He wasn't mine. He had never been. Yet every part of me wanted him to notice me.
"Hey," my friend whispered, nudging me. "He's looking this way."
I turned, heart hammering. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, I thought… maybe, just maybe, he noticed me. Then he smiled… at someone else.
I looked down, biting my lip. That was the line I couldn't cross—the line I'd never be allowed to cross.
But fate seemed to have its own plans. Later that afternoon, I found myself at the same coffee shop he frequented. And just as I ordered, he appeared, sitting alone at a corner table. Our eyes met again, and this time… he waved.
I froze. Did he really just wave at me?
"Come sit," he said casually, patting the chair across from him.
I shook my head, a mix of nerves and disbelief. "I… I can't," I stammered.
But the invitation lingered in the air, like a whisper I couldn't ignore. Something told me this encounter wouldn't be our last. Something told me that even if he was never mine, our paths were about to cross in ways I wasn't ready for.