His question hung in the air like a challenge, daring me to confront the feelings I had buried long ago. My mind raced, searching for an excuse, a lie, anything to avoid the truth. But in that moment, under his gaze, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.
Why had I asked for his number? The answer was painfully simple: because I had never truly let go. All these years, I had held onto a flicker of hope, a tiny ember of love that refused to die.
“I... I just wanted to talk to you,” I finally said, my voice barely a whisper. It was a half-truth, the best I could offer without falling apart.
He looked at me, his expression unreadable, and then, with a softness that made my heart ache, he asked, “Are you still in love with me?”
The world seemed to stop in that instant. My heart pounded in my chest, and every nerve in my body came alive. I hadn’t expected him to ask. I hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of that moment. But there was no turning back now. I took a deep breath and, with all the courage I could summon, I answered, “Yes. I’m still in love with you.”
YOU ARE READING
The Echoes of First Love
Short StoryFirst love has a way of staying with you, even when you think it's long gone. It's not the kind of love that fades completely; it lingers in the background, a shadow that follows you no matter where you go. I've learned to live with it, to let it be...
