《Where Heart Wanders》


 to love someone

    I do wonder sometimes what it means to love someone. Having someone who you love cares about you, nag about you or to you, hugs you in times where you or they need one. What does it mean to love someone? Does loving someone mean that you want that person to be with you forever in your life? Or does it mean that you want that person to be happy even though they don¡¯t wind up with you? I¡¯ll tell you a little about my past.


    It was a wonderful day, the weather was clear¡ª a little cold because it was windy¡ªbut there were no signs of any rain. I was sitting with someone very dear to me in the middle of the night, as the lady of the night shone upon us although we were surrounded by darkness. There were no lights, only the moon and the sands underneath us who are the witness to our actions. We were not doing anything, we just sat, embracing the beauty of the night, where stars flickered, the clouds flew, and wind breezed. We were sitting below the tree that covered us, the tree that hid us out of sight, as if the place was meant for us both that night.


    She was a kind soul, a lady with her hair flowing like a river of dark ink, yet it was soft and wild, looming around her shoulders. Her eyes are as dark as night, yet it shines as bright as the day, as if it could rival the sparkles of the stars that rested above us. Her kindness wasn¡¯t grand, yet every action that she took was steadfast and sincere, as if she was the sun who shone a way for us to go, even if you didn¡¯t ask for it. Her presence was calm, serene, yet her eyes clung deeply to every wave that roared, as if counting each of them. My presence was fully ignored as if the universe was only hers and the seas, yet I smiled in her disregard as I¡¯m happy to see her as she was.


    We were wandering around before, looking for something to eat, but we ended up being here as we pondered where we should go. My bike that I parked by the gates of the beach was also another witness of us being here, steadily waiting for our return back to a journey without any destination.


    I looked at her whilst she was still focusing on her own world, her eyes lie unyielding, yet I noticed that her lips twitched, and her cheeks started to redden. Her face was close to me, so I easily noticed the change. But then she turned towards me, she stared at me, leaving behind the beauty of the night breeze and the waves roared, to stare at me who had been staring at her.


    Her face was right in front of me, her eyes searching mine, as if she was trying to read my deepest thoughts that I had hidden within. Our surroundings went quiet, the winds held back their breaths, the waves stopped howling as her gaze grew closer to mine. I could only be still, frozen, as if her gaze had drowned me to the depths of the sea, unable to escape.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been staring at me for a while,¡± she said softly, her voice carried by the roars of the waves, as if it was only meant to be heard by me.


    I smiled, sheepishly averting my eyes below to avoid her gaze but to only be met by her gaze as she followed my movement.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help it, you know,¡± I admitted bashfully, my voice barely can be heard. ¡°You looked so¡­ lost in your own world. I didn¡¯t want to interrupt you.¡±


    She tilted her head slightly, her silky hair falling to one side like a curtain of shadows, and a faint smile played on her lips.


    ¡°Lost? Heh, maybe¡­ maybe I was,¡± she murmured softly, she glanced back at the waves for a moment, ¡°But it¡¯s easy to feel lost when everything around feels so¡­ extravagant,¡±


    Her words lingered, sounded soft yet cold, like breezes in the air, and heavier than I could fully grasp. I wanted to say something to fill the void of this silence that we had, but before I could utter something, she leaned closer towards me, her face was close to mine again.


    ¡°The sky today is clear; the stars are visible with the moon to accompany them. It¡¯s as if we¡¯re meant to be here to witness the beauty of today, isn¡¯t it?¡± she said softly with a smile whilst pointing at the sky that surrounded us, ¡°The clouds are with us too tonight, as they don¡¯t cover the beautiful flickering stars above us, it¡¯s only these cold breezes that gives me hope that I¡¯m at my room now, hiding underneath the warmth of my sheets. Don¡¯t you think so?¡±


    I hesitated, unsure on how to respond. ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, I tried to choose my words carefully, ¡°It is a beautiful night, we wind up not getting what we looked for, but I¡¯ll take this moment of serene, peaceful night, especially having you around with me. Maybe¡­ it has been fun.¡± I smiled at her, her face reddened at my response, as did I when I realized what I had said.


    I was in a state of ecstasy on what I just said to her, as if I had confessed my feelings that I had towards her, yet my mind wondered if she heard what I said.


    ¡°It has always been fun hanging out with you too¡­ I couldn¡¯t ever imagine not having these night dates that we do quite often, it¡¯s really fun.¡± She said bashfully with her faint smile.


    I could only smile at the reply, not knowing what to answer nor how to respond. As I¡¯m abashed, fleeting between the flow of the wind that breezed.


    A sudden gust of wind that broke the silence swept through the trees; it sent shivers down her spine. She hugged herself tightly, her shoulders and legs were trembling. I looked at her, worried.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve worn your jacket,¡± I said, ¡°Here.¡± I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.


    She looked up to me, her eyes were wide with surprise, ¡°You don¡¯t have to¡­¡±


    ¡°Please. I want to,¡± I said firmly, cutting her off.


    She hesitated, but then she wore the jacket tighter around herself, a soft smile spreading across her lips, she grew closer towards me and whispered, ¡°Thank you,¡± right beside my ears. I couldn¡¯t help but be flustered as she did it, as her soft voice trembled around my ears.


    We went back to our deep silence again. She gazed at the sky, as if counting every star that shone above us, and I did the same thing that I did before, gazing deeply at her as she was trapped within her world. Her curious, intriguing, yet mysterious world that I couldn¡¯t help but want to linger on.


    I did hope at that time if the universe would allow us for the time to be still, to let us be together. As the tree that covered us, the stars that shone brightly at us, the winds that breezed over us, the sands that kept our feet warm in their cover, and the night sky that accompanied us, to be the witness of this day, of where we had time for ourselves. The moment of clarity and peace that we enjoyed, out of all the necessities that we will have to solve during the day.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    I was worried about what will happen tomorrow, worried about what will happen during the day, where I would have to wait for her until midnight, the only time we could meet. But she was never worried, as she knew that even if work separated us, we would still have time for ourselves. Where we could enjoy both of our company as if the world was ours, where everyone''s presence didn¡¯t matter, only both of us. Even when surrounded by a sea of people, our gaze would only meet each other¡¯s.


    We were never a couple, yet we knew that we loved each other. We never confessed our feelings to each other, but we understood it even without words. We never confessed to each other because we were worried about where the future will take us, as we never knew when we would be separated. So, we just enjoyed each other''s company, not as a couple yet more than friends.


    ¡°Hey¡­¡± she said softly, breaking the silence. I was so focused on pondering that I didn¡¯t realize she shifted her face towards me.


    ¡°Do you think you would take that offer?¡± she asked curiously, she gazed at me intensely with her brows frowned a little.


    I was offered work to Australia, where I will have the opportunity to gain more experience there. I worked as a restaurant manager in the hotel where she was my senior before. She moved to another hotel to find more experience there, but we kept in contact even though we worked in different places, as we had already been close before she left. We never had much of these night dates before, since we usually conversed within our chats. Though all our conversations ever since have accumulated and now it sank as deep as the seas.


    I did take the initiative of inviting her to these night dates, as I missed her presence that used to linger with me around the day. Although she worked at a different place to mine, at the very least I got to meet her during the night. She didn¡¯t feel weird when I invited her at first, instead she was excited about it. I felt relieved, as I was worried that she might be weirded out. But it was only a worry that almost held me back.


    ¡°I¡¯m still thinking about it,¡± I said solemnly, ¡°Being there would be nice¡­ but I don¡¯t know if I should.¡±


    I was hesitant to answer her question, but I couldn¡¯t stand the thought of not answering that question. She definitely deserved my answer.


    ¡°But what about me?¡± she asked, her question thundered my mind, her hands fidgeted, and her tears started to flow in both of her eyes, as her cheeks and her eyes reddened.


    It was also the question that I often asked myself. What about her? Will she be okay if you leave her behind? Do you even dare leaving her? Relinquishing the relationship that you¡¯ve built with her. She, a presence of love that has lingered with you, day or night.


    She meant the whole world to me, as she has often been with me ever since she worked at the same hotel as I did. She has been helping me around, helping me solve troubles that I had with seniors or customers as I had trouble speaking my mind. I was never much of a talker; I often have trouble expressing myself verbally, but I can do it well in writing. She had always been my anchor, as work often overwhelmed me, her strength was quiet and her voice was firm, and her calmness always steadied my chaotic mind.


    I steadied myself as her question clung to me unanswered, the pressure felt heavier than the night air, suffocating. I braved myself, answering her question.


    ¡°I will always be with you¡­ if you would consider coming with me, please?¡± I asked gently, filled with hope, ¡°It would be nice if you could come along with me.¡±


    I was hoping that she would agree to my invitation, as her presence if she had followed would¡¯ve brought me joy and smiles, yet her reason for declining it was reasonable.


    She swept her tears from her eyes, her eyes were bright and red as rose, yet her expressions were as glum as a withering lily, gentle but filled with sorrow. She gave me a faint, bittersweet smile that I couldn¡¯t understand. She took a deep breath and replied with her soft voice that was trembling, following the rhythm of the wind that had been caressing us all night.


    ¡°I really wish that I could,¡± she said, as her voice wailed carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts, ¡°I just can¡¯t leave everything behind here. How about my family? My responsibilities? This is my home. I can¡¯t leave them.¡±


    Her gaze drifted back to the seas; her eyes wandered as if she was searching for answers within the endless horizon that lies beyond us. The world around us seemed to fade into the background, as this was a moment shared between us alone, locked upon her words, forming a barrier that neither of us could cross.


    ¡°But you,¡± she continued as she turned herself back to me and gripped my hands, her voice firmer despite her fidgeting hands, ¡°You have the chance to grow, to live the life you deserve. You have always been meant for something greater than in this small world that we currently live in.¡±


    Her words cut through me, sharp yet she piled it well and with care. She was letting me go, even though it hurt her to do so. I wanted to argue, to tell her that my world would be empty without her being there. But I knew deep down, she was right.


    The wind grew colder, as if the universe itself was mourning this moment with us.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave you,¡± I cried, my voice cracked, bellowing over the sound of the gentle waves that were howling, ¡°I don¡¯t know if I could do this without you.¡±


    Her grip on my hands tightened, she carried all the pain that she had to suffer without me, yet still she could smile at me as her reply, ¡°You can,¡± she said simply, ¡°And you have to. For yourself.¡± Her smile brightened, as if reassuring me that she would be okay.


    Only silence followed, as I only nodded at her in response. The stars above continued to flicker, as bright as day that filled with hope, yet it was oblivious to the heartache that was unfolding underneath them. My impulse was to hold her, to pull her close and tell her that we could make it work, but I didn¡¯t do it. I felt that if I forced her out of her will, she wouldn¡¯t be happy.


    We sat there for what it felt like an eternity, our hands still clasped together, neither of us willing to let go. The night that had felt serene and peaceful had turned into an unbearably heavy somberness.


    Eventually, she pulled away, her hand slipping from mine like sand sifting through my fingers. She stood up and looked at me, her silhouette framed by the glow of the moonlight.


    ¡°Promise me,¡± she said firmly, ¡°That you¡¯ll go. That you¡¯ll take this chance and make the most of it.¡±


    I hesitated, my mind was telling me to refuse, to stay here on the island with her forever. But the look in her eyes was strong, resolute, and full of love and hope. Making it difficult for me to betray her wish.


    ¡°I promise, I will go¡­¡± I said, my voice cracking under the weight of those words.


    She nodded, her expression softening as she leaned down to kiss me on my lips. Her lips were soft and tasted sweet, yet the feeling of sadness lingered between that kiss. A tender gesture of hers that nearly broke me.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered, ¡°For everything that you¡¯ve done to me.¡±


    ¡°Shall we go back then?¡± she continued, as if meaning to end the torment that has been torturing us that night, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I replied softly.


    And with that we rode my bike but with destination, I took her back to her home and I went back to mine. I did stay a little longer in front of her house the moment I dropped her off, for me to etch the house deep in my heart that she had stayed before. But the moment I was told by my friend that she had moved away from there, it only left me with the feeling of sorrow, as I had no more chance of getting back to her again.


    On that day, I understood what it meant to love someone. It wasn¡¯t about holding on or making them stay. It was about letting them go, about wanting the best for them even if it meant breaking your own heart.


    Because sometimes, love isn¡¯t about being together. Sometimes, it¡¯s about setting someone free.


    I can only hope that she will be happy.

 Yet in Stillness, We Met

    Love can be an interesting thing, can¡¯t it? The way that love flows, how it appears, and how it somehow unravels you from the inside out. It¡¯s a fascinating topic, isn¡¯t it? The reason I say this is that I¡¯ve recently been introduced to love¡ªright now, I feel it coursing through me, fulfilling yet leaving me strangely empty.


    The feeling of love is like when you¡¯re standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering between the excitement of the fall and the terror of the unknown. Love often brings cheerfulness, and that itself fills you with comfort and joy. But at that same moment, love can be a double-edged sword, twirling you in the whirlwind of doubt and insecurity. The dangers of love are unfathomable. Whatever choices you make, you must be prepared for its consequences.


    The first time I was introduced to love was by my parents. My mother taught me how to love, and my father taught me the importance of understanding each other. My mother always thinks that love is something that you feel, something that makes you happy whenever you¡¯re around that person, a feeling of joy when you see that person, something that she found in my father. I giggled a bit when she said it very proudly, as usually, whenever she said it, my father would try to ignore what my mother said about him. A bit mean, but I guess that is how my father teases my mother. I know that they¡¯ve been together for almost 50 years now, and they have known each other since childhood.


    The downfall of their love story began when my mother died 5 years ago due to a heart attack. My father, who always looked relentless, fell deep in agony by the time he gazed upon my mother¡¯s pale body. His cry at her funeral filled the gloomy room, so loud, so raw, that it drowned everyone else as if we didn''t exist. He never once forgot to visit her grave on their anniversary and her birthday. I always accompanied him until his death a year ago. Before he passed, he asked me for only one thing¡ªto be buried next to my mother. I did everything in my power to fulfill his wish. A very sweet ending to a love life that they have been living, to be married to the person who has been with you for almost the entire life, and to end it next to someone who has lingered with you. I always thought that it was impossible to happen in real life, but now I know that it¡¯s not.


    Understanding their love filled me with joy to find someone who will either be loyal like my mother or someone who will be caring like my father does despite his cold upbringing. To experience love like both of them seems dreamlike yet also fearful, as to feel what happened to my father upon the death of my mother, I would feel what my father felt. When he was drowned in tears, devoid of hope, every step that he took would remind him of his fond memories with my mother. Each of his steps felt heavy, he once said. His hands longed for the warm touch. Even the presence of his only child could never replace the love that has stayed with him for so long. Watching his grief makes me question myself, do I truly want love?


    But as I reflect on my parents¡¯ love and tragedy, I find myself still longing for it. What will it be like when I get to enjoy the love from someone of my dreams? Will my love be someone who fascinates me, enthralls me, or someone who will disappoint and ruin me? The curiosity engulfs me.


    I wonder how it feels to touch them, how warm they will be when they hold you, every gentle pat of their palms against my forehead that may fill me with a sense of shelter. Whether the lingering feeling of hopefulness or the drowning bitterness that may fill my heart that is devoid of love.


    With that I¡¯ve met my love, a presence who filled my heart with joy, without him, only bitterness lingers within my mind, as if his presence filled the void in my heart. I¡¯ve known him for quite a while, even before the death of my mother, yet whether he noticed my existence remains unknown to me.


    Our desks face each other, but we¡¯ve never spoken. Not once. I know the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his voice dips when he¡¯s tired, and how he taps his fingers against the desk when he¡¯s thinking. I know these things are second nature. And yet, to him, I¡¯m nothing more than a shadow¡ªalways there but never noticed


    I was never once confident in the way that I looked. Unlike his friends, who are trendy and flashy. I¡¯m just a dull shadow, hiding behind their glittering brightness, a mere hollow husk that craves love.


    Try to change yourself, change how you look, put some makeup on.


    It was something that a dear friend told me in my college days, a friend who is a huge contrast to what I am. She is cheery and gorgeous; every man is captivated by her beauty. It felt awful whenever I had to walk next to her back then. She underwent huge changes when she got to college because she had never been like that before in high school. A huge risk that she took, yet it rewarded her deeply. Lingering gazes were fixed on every step that she took. A feeling of jealousy that gnawed at my confidence. But I tried to never truly care at that time, as I had no interest in love or people that I could love for, except the love for both of my parents.


    But the feeling that I have now is real; this is truly love. Every time he steps near to where I sit, whenever he sits at his desk, a feeling of warmth fills my heart to the brim. My heart aches with the longing to convey my feelings, to bridge the gap between us. Despite us not speaking to each other, regardless of his not knowing me, I still plead for his company with me.


    You don¡¯t deserve him.


    That sentence continues to echo within me, dissipating in any hope that lingers deep inside my heart. I feel cold, as if my body is frozen stiff. He continues to walk into his world, leaving me alone, my embrace forever unfulfilled. I¡¯m shackled by my own words, hindered by my own confidence.


    Today, I have to work overtime; the office is empty, with only the bright lights from the ceilings and the quiet hum of the air conditioner that fills the room. I glance at the clock; it is 10:00 PM. It is quite uncommon for me to do overtime as I always finish my job on time. However, I made a blunder in my article, which forced me to stay over to finish rewriting the whole article.


    I sigh, rubbing my temples whilst trying to calm myself down. My fingers hovered over my keyboard, but words won¡¯t come out. My monitor glares at me; it''s too bright, and I feel like I¡¯m staring at a blank canvas, except this one feels suffocating. I should¡¯ve been more careful. I should¡¯ve double-checked the assignment, even when I was in a rush, even when I thought I understood what the task was. But I didn¡¯t. And now I¡¯m paying for it. I¡¯m drowning myself deep in my ridiculous mistake. My chest tightens, and I grip the edge of my desk, fighting my urge to cry.


    Get it together, you¡¯ve handled worse than this.


    But the truth is, I haven¡¯t been able to. Not after my mother¡¯s death, and my father followed her. I¡¯ve been floating around in the space of uncertainty, clinging to routines and deadlines because they give me something to hold onto. Something to distract me from the emptiness that has been growing inside me.


    The sound of footsteps snaps me out of my thoughts. I freeze, and my heart pounds heavily. Who else would be at this hour? Why? I looked up, and it was him, walking towards his desk, his tie loosened, and his sleeves rolled up. A couple of his buttons are unbuttoned, and his face is weary. His presence is so sudden, so unexpected, that I can¡¯t find words to speak.


    He is humming a familiar song; it is something that I listen to quite often. Exist For Love by Aurora. My favorite song. It is interesting to know that he has a similar taste to me. The moment he gets closer to his desk, he studies his surroundings, and his gaze is fixated on me, who was sitting by my desk, frozen stiff.


    ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re still here?¡± he asks, his voice soft but filled with surprise. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I felt suffocated, as if his gaze took my breath away.


    ¡°I¡­ yeah,¡± I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡­ I made a silly mistake in my article for our next issue. So, I have to rewrite the entire article.¡±


    He tilts his head, studying me with a curious look that makes my cheeks burn. ¡°That sounds rough. I was planning to get my paperwork that I accidentally left here. Do you need help? I¡¯m free for the moment.¡±


    I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly. ¡°Help? No¡­ I can handle it.¡± I stutter, but the words come out automatically, a reflex born from years of hiding my insecurities.


    But he did something that I didn¡¯t expect.


    For a moment, he just stands there. His fingers drum lightly against his desk, his eyes looking around the empty office. Then, as if making up his mind, he drags a chair and sits down beside me.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here all day, haven¡¯t you? You shouldn¡¯t have to do this alone.¡±


    I want to protest, to tell him he doesn¡¯t have to stay, but in my heart, I don¡¯t want him to leave. His warm presence was comforting, like the first ray of sunlight after a long, dreary, cold night. I nod reluctantly, and he smiles. His smile, genuine, makes my heart skip a beat.


    As we work side by side, I steal glances at him when I think he isn¡¯t looking. His hands move effortlessly across the keyboard, his brow furrowed in concentration. The way he looks and how he carries himself made my heart skip a beat. He¡¯s always been like this. Confident, capable, and kind. I¡¯ve watched him for so long, convinced that someone like him would never notice someone like me. But now, sitting this close to him, I wonder if I¡¯ve been wrong all along.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°You know,¡± he says suddenly, breaking the silence that surrounds the mood. His voice is soft, almost hesitant. ¡°You¡¯re really good at writing, even if you just made a mistake, you still manage to get through it all. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re so hard on yourself.¡±


    I freeze, my fingers hovering over the keys. His words caught me off guard, and I didn¡¯t know how to respond.


    Did I hear it correctly?


    Nobody has ever said something like that to me before. Especially in the way that he just did, it felt¡­ genuine.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not,¡± I murmur shyly, my voice trembling. ¡°I just¡­ I don¡¯t want to mess up again, and I want to be proud of what I do. Always.¡±


    I want to be confident in myself.


    He turns to look at me, pausing his work, his gaze steady, yet it feels calmly kind. ¡°Everyone makes mistakes. It¡¯s how you overcome it that matters. You¡¯ve been handling it like a pro.¡±


    His words linger in the air, and for the first time in what feels like forever, whatever I¡¯ve been thinking all this time, it¡¯s never been true. I¡¯m seen. Not as a shadow, neither as a hollow husk, but as someone that matters. Someone who''s capable and also worthy.


    When we finally finish the article, it¡¯s past midnight, and probably the last train is gone by this time. He stands up, stretching slightly, and I can¡¯t help but notice the way his shirt shifts with the movement. My cheeks flush red, and I quickly look away.


    Should I get my hopes up?


    ¡°Thanks¡­ thanks for staying,¡± I say, my voice soft, barely audible. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to.¡±


    He smiles again, although now his smile is brighter, I¡¯ve never seen him smile as he is now, it feels like it¡¯s just for me. ¡°I wanted to. Liana. You know¡­ I¡¯ve always found you interesting. I¡¯ve always thought that. It¡¯s just I¡¯ve never once had the chance to talk to you.¡±


    My breath catches. I¡¯m shocked.


    Interesting? Me?


    I want to know why. I want to understand what that means. I want to know why he thinks like that. But words can¡¯t escape my mouth.


    ¡°Are you using the train to go home? I think by this hour, all the last trains had left already, let me take you home.¡± he continued whilst putting on his denim jacket, which was placed by his desk.


    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s okay,¡± I stutter. ¡°There¡¯s probably still a couple of buses still going around this hour.¡± I¡¯m embarrassed, I¡¯m burning red, it feels like a dream, yet it is not. All of this has been real.


    He gets closer to me, his bag slung over his left shoulder. I¡¯ve never stood right in front of him; this is the first time. It makes me realize just how tall he is and how broad his shoulders are. His presence is overwhelming, yet in the best way, warm and enchanting.


    ¡°You sure about that?¡± he asks, tilting his head slightly. His voice remains gentle, but there¡¯s something more with his tone, a slight concern is felt through his voice. ¡°It¡¯s okay, you know. We can ride my motorbike together, and don¡¯t worry,  I¡¯m a safe driver.¡± He says them full of confidence, brimming with his bright smile.


    I hesitate. In my heart, I want to spend more time with him. Yet at the same time, I don¡¯t want to trouble him, I¡¯ve troubled him too much today. Today, it has been too surprising, I need to process all the things that have happened. I¡¯ve spent so long believing that I was invisible to his gaze, yet it''s all an afterthought. The idea of him being here, lending his hand to my aid, offering me to take me home, feels unreal.


    ¡°It¡¯s really fine,¡± I insist, though my voice lacks confidence.


    I¡¯m so stupid.


    He exhales a deep breath as if he sounded disappointed. ¡°Hmm. Well, at least let me walk you to the bus stop. It¡¯s past midnight.¡±


    Say no, say no. Don¡¯t tell him yes.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± I agree.


    The air outside of our office is crisp; the streets are quiet as only the sounds of several cars that pass by can be heard, with a slight wind that cools this warm situation. The city feels different at this hour; it feels slower, like it¡¯s catching a break after a long, tiring day. We walk side by side on the pavement in comfortable silence. I steal a glance at him, I wonder if he noticed how nervous I am.


    ¡°So¡­¡± he starts breaking our silence, hands tucked by his jacket pockets. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you talk much in the office. Except maybe if someone needs to ask you something.¡±


    I chuckle softly. ¡°I don¡¯t really know how to start conversations.¡±


    He hums in thought; he seems excited by the way he looks. ¡°Then should I, do it?¡±


    Again. He makes me nervous. He and his surprises.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always found you interesting,¡± he says with certainty. ¡°It¡¯s just that, the aura that you emit, that surrounds you, blocks me from attempting any conversation with you. I once heard you hum a song, it¡¯s quite beautiful. Exist for Love. If that catches you anything?¡±


    My cheeks flush, and I try to look away, unsure of how I should respond. It¡¯s strange, hearing him talk about me like this, it¡¯s as if he has noticed me. I never thought anyone would care about anything that I did.


    ¡°Yea¡­ it¡¯s one of my favorite songs.¡± I said sheepishly, I feel that I¡¯m bright red up until my ears. Good thing it¡¯s dark outside so he shouldn¡¯t be able to notice it.


    I hesitate to continue, I¡¯m unsure of how much I should share. But there¡¯s something about the way he looks at me, it¡¯s as if he genuinely wants to know, that makes me want to open up.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ comforting,¡± I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. ¡°The way she sings about love, the melody, and how poetic that song is. It feels¡­ real.¡±


    He nods, his expression thoughtful. ¡°I get that. It¡¯s like knowing how beautiful the feeling of love is, how comforting and warm it is, and how it will embrace you in the world that is constantly hurting you. It¡¯s beautiful.


    His reply caught me off guard, and I gazed intently at his, surprised, yet with a whole lot of curiosity in it. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯ve thought about it that way too?¡±


    He smiles, a little sheepishly. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess I have.¡±


    We fall into silence again, but it¡¯s a comfortable silence, filled with unspoken understanding. For the first time, I feel the warmth of another, it¡¯s as if whatever I¡¯ve thought about myself was never true. I¡¯m actually someone that matters.


    When we reach the bus stop, a fleeting feeling of disappointment surrounds me, the moment is about to end. Then he turns to me, his hands still tucked inside his jacket pockets. ¡°Well, this is it,¡± he says with his soft voice. ¡°But are you sure you don¡¯t want me to take you home?¡±


    I shake my head, though a part of me wishes to say yes. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine Johan. Thank you¡­ for today.¡±


    He smiles, and it¡¯s the kind of smile that makes my heart skip a beat, it¡¯s so bright and genuine. ¡°Anytime, Liana. You know¡­ I¡¯m glad that I finally got the chance to talk to you.¡±


    His words linger in the air, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. ¡°Me too,¡± I whisper, my voice barely audible.


    He hesitates, yet his step grows closer. ¡°We should do this again sometime. Maybe over a coffee instead, or maybe other things. You know.¡±


    I nodded, my heart racing. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    ¡°That settles,¡± he says. He approaches me, his hand leaving his jacket pockets and unveiling his phone. ¡°Here. We should at least share each of our phone numbers.¡±


    He handed me his phone. My fingers tremble as I type in my number, slowly and carefully, each digit that I type feels like a small step into uncharted territory. When I hand it back, he quickly sends a text.


    Hi!


    It made a buzz from my phone in my pocket. The vibration is startling, yet comforting, like a bridge that is built to bridge the gap between us.


    I¡¯m over the moon.


    ¡°There,¡± he says, whilst slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket. ¡°Now you have my number. So, it¡¯s easy to plan for something or in case you need anything.¡±


    I nodded, clutching my phone tightly to my chest. The bus pulls up to the curb, its arrival slips me back to reality. Its doors are hissing open, and I feel reluctant to get in. I don¡¯t want this moment to end. Not yet.


    ¡°I guess this is it,¡± I say softly, glancing at the bus and then back at him. His gaze meets mine, and in his gaze, I feel something, a warm and hopeful feeling, it makes my chest tighten.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says, his voice is quiet. ¡°But like I said, we can do this again. Over a coffee or lunch, or¡­ whatever you¡¯d like.¡±


    I smile, a small tentative smile that feels¡­ strange on my lips. ¡°I¡¯d like that¡­ sure.¡±


    He steps back as I climb onto the bus, his hands still tucked into his jacket pockets. The door closes behind me, and I find a seat by the window, my heart still racing. Through the glass, I see him standing there, watching as the bus pulls away. He raises his hands in a small wave, and I lift mine in return, through the glass window where it gaps our touch.


    As the bus gets off, I lean back in my seat, clutching my phone to my chest. The screen lights up to his text before, and I stare at it, with a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. Excitement, fear, hope, it¡¯s all there, tangled together.


    I open the message and type a reply, my fingers trembling slightly.


    Thank you for tonight.


    His response comes almost immediately.


    Anytime, Liana. Be safe. Goodnight!


    I smiled, and I tucked my phone away. The city lights blur past the window, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel a flicker of something that I¡¯ve never felt, hope.


    As I watch the quiet night in the city pass by, I think about my parents. Their love, their joy, their loss, and the way they held onto each other through it all. Mother. For the first time, maybe, just maybe. Allow me to hope, to believe that I can also relive those moments like you did. Maybe not the fairy tale kind of love, but the real kind, the kind that is messy or imperfect, yet still remains beautiful in its own way. Even through all the stillness, and gaps that we both dug, we managed to meet in the end. Across the boundaries that we dug, as if fate had us tangled together.


    As the bus carries me home, I feel a warm feeling spreading through my chest, like the first rays of sunlight after a long, cold night. It¡¯s a small, fragile feeling. But it¡¯s there. For now, it¡¯s enough.