Love's a choice

All it takes is a chance.

Gazing out the window of the quaint cafe opposite the park of my childhood, I reminisce about swinging high with my legs kicking the sky and my hair cascading over my face. How I long to recapture that first rush of freedom. My life seems tethered to these memories, as I attempt to relive them.

Here I sit, in the cafe, awaiting Jorja's arrival. She had called an hour earlier, insisting we meet to talk. Twenty minutes have ticked by without a trace of her. I reach for my phone, dial her number, and am greeted by her voicemail. I sigh heavily, just as the cafe door swings open. Azaad walks in, his gaze finding mine immediately, shrinking me in my seat. He approaches, and my thoughts scatter.

"May I sit?" he inquires, his smile sending my heart into a flutter.

"I was expecting Jorja, but it seems you're her stand-in today," I reply dryly, and he settles into the seat opposite me.

"You don't look pleased to see me," he observes, his smile fading, as I shift my gaze from the window back to him.

"This is my happy face, can't you tell?" I say, and he simply nods.

"Claire, I—"

"Was she ever going to come?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"I asked her to call you," he tells me.

"She said I should give you a chance to explain things, so here's your chance. I only have 30 minutes, though," I inform him, and he swallows hard before speaking, his nervousness palpable.

"I don't know where to begin," he admits, and we fall into silence. Then I break it.

"I didn't realize you and Jorja were an item," I finally say, and he looks puzzled.

"We're just friends," he asserts, and I let out a soft laugh.

"We really are Claire" he says, and I nod.

"At first, I didn't realize you liked me. I thought you enjoyed buying me things or lending a hand. But when it dawned on me, I was at a loss. It may sound silly, but it's the truth. My perception of you shifted; you were no longer just the girl I bantered with for amusement. You became something more," he confesses, and I remain fixated on him as he continues.

"Everything changed when I confided in Zain about my feelings, and he dissuaded me. I've always regretted telling him, yet my feelings for you remained unchanged," he admits to me.

"And what about all the other girls?" I inquire, prompting him to glance down at his hands before meeting my gaze again.

"That was merely my friends' pressure. Whenever a girl showed interest, they prodded me to pursue her," he explains, and I can't help but laugh bitterly.

"Except for me," I point out, and he inhales deeply.

"No, they encouraged me to date you as well. I just couldn't do it," he confesses, and I close my eyes, biting my lip in frustration.

"I couldn't treat you like that; you weren't like the other girls. My feelings for you were different. To them, I was just a handsome boy they desired, but with you, you made me feel different, Claire," he admits.

"Why are you telling me all this now?" I ask, and he averts his gaze before looking back at me.

"Because it's always been you, Claire," he declares, and the child within me rejoices, but the adult me can't muster the same enthusiasm.

"What do you want to happen now?" I inquire, and his eyes widen slightly, surprised by my question.

"What?" he responds, taken aback.

"When I was younger, I always imagined what would happen after we confessed our love for each other," I say, laughing.

"We'd be high school sweethearts, go off to college together, then start working part-time to afford our apartment. After earning our degrees, we'd work until I leave my job four years later, expecting our first child. You'd get promoted, and we'd buy a house in a quiet neighborhood. The rest would unfold just like that, and of course, we'd live happily ever after," I say, and he smiles.

"I'd like you to give me a chance to make that happen," he says, and I remain silent.

"I know I've hurt you, but I was just a kid back then," he tells me. I want to leap from my seat and kiss him forever, but I'm more levelheaded now, and more than anything, I'm scared this is all a cruel joke. My throat is parched, and my eyes begin to well up; he notices and looks at me with concern.

"Claire, are you okay?" he asks, reaching for my hand across the table, and I nod.

"I'm fine, I just need to leave," I tell him, and his expression turns to one of disappointment.

"If I said something wrong, I apologize," he says, and I withdraw my hand, already longing for his warmth.

"It's everything you said, Azaad. As much as I wanted this before, I don't think I want it now," I say, and he shakes his head.

"Don't say that," he pleads.

"You were an idea in my head, and I could control the outcome of everything, but now that you're here saying all this, I just—"

"So, you're telling me you prefer the version of me you created in your head over the actual me?" he asks with a confused expression.

"No, that's not what I'm saying," I reply.

"What are you saying then?" he inquires, and I take a deep breath.

"I—I need some time to think about all of this," I say simply, biting my lip.

"You're making me wait just to hurt me, is that it?" he asks, and I scoff.

"No, I need some time to process all of this. I have other things happening in my life, and while I appreciate your honesty, I hope you didn't expect that after your abrupt confession, I would simply fall into your arms and we'd have a fairy-tale ending," I say, my tone sharper than intended.

"Claire, I never implied that. I'm just trying to make sense of what's happening right now," he responds calmly, causing me to second-guess my earlier harshness.

"I'm sorry," I admit, and a brief silence ensues.

"I just need some time to think about all this, is that okay?" I inquire, and he gives me a hopeful nod.

"Take all the time you need. I've been waiting for you for a very long time; I can wait a little longer," he says with a smile, and my heart feels heavy with his earnest words. I look at him, and suddenly, all the feelings I had suppressed surge forward. The scenarios I had imagined in solitude now seem possible, and my heart dares to hope.