The Best I Ever Had

Old Cardigan

I think I stopped breathing for a moment after her confession.

She wants to be with me. Me?

My mind spiraled, racing through a chaotic storm of emotions—shock, disbelief, joy, elation—before it settled into a familiar place: doubt. No matter how hard I tried to keep my insecurities at bay, they always managed to surface.

"I don't know if you should do that," I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper as I turned my gaze away from her.

"Do what?" she asked softly, her fingers gently guiding my chin so I had no choice but to look into her eyes. Her expression was earnest, her brow furrowed as she searched my face for answers.

"Fall for me," I muttered, trying to pull away, to create distance. But she only tightened her hold on me.

"Well, you're out of luck. It's already happened," she replied with a sad smile, and I let out a long, deep sigh.

I looked at her again, and this time she was serious, her eyes never wavering. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then began tracing her fingers delicately along my face—across my cheeks, over my eyelids, down my nose, and finally along my lips. Her touch was so light, so gentle, as if she feared I might shatter under the weight of it.

"You don't have to be so scared of this," she said quietly.

"What if this ruins everything?" I whispered back, my voice trembling. "We're not the only ones who could get hurt."

She gave me a small, reassuring smile. "I'm more of a positive thinking kind of girl, Orm," she said. "Besides, I know we'll be okay."

"How?" I asked, my voice rising with the weight of my doubt. "How can you be so sure?"

Her gaze softened as she answered. "Because you're still here."

Flashback

From the moment we met, Lingling became my anchor, my constant in a world that often felt too chaotic, too overwhelming. Whenever I felt lost or broken, it was her arms I sought, her presence that grounded me. She became my refuge—my person.

I still remember the day my ex left. We had been fighting for weeks, but that night was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be our nine-month anniversary—dinner at a fancy restaurant, the kind of place where you wore your best clothes and pretended everything was fine. But instead of celebrating, we ended it.