DIARY OF A CERTAIN STORIES

THE LADY IN PINK

I always considered myself an ordinary guy. My name is Sam, and I spent most of my days working as a freelance graphic designer, navigating the digital world from my small apartment in the heart of the city. My life was uneventful, filled with mundane routines and the occasional late-night binge-watching session. But everything changed the day I met her—the Lady in Pink.

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when I first saw her. I was sitting in my usual corner of the Maria Leonara Cafe, sipping on my lukewarm coffee, when she walked in. The moment she entered, the world seemed to shift. The air felt charged, and I could hardly take my eyes off her. She wore a flowing pink dress that swayed gracefully together with her pink stilettos and with each step, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. But it wasn't just her beauty that captivated me; it was the aura of mystery that surrounded her.

She ordered a drink and sat at a table near the window, pulling out a book. I attempted to focus on my work, but my gaze kept drifting back to her. Something was enchanting about the way she read, completely absorbed in her world. After a few minutes of internal debate, I decided to muster the courage to talk to her. I stood up, my heart racing, and approached her table.

"Hi, I'm Sam," I said, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in my chest. "What are you reading?"

She looked up, her deep green eyes sparkling with intrigue. "It's a mystery novel," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. 

"I love a good puzzle."

"I'm more of a graphic novel kind of guy," I chuckled awkwardly. "But I appreciate a good mystery."

We talked for hours, lost in conversation and laughter as if we had known each other forever. Her name was Missy, and she shared stories of her travels and dreams, painting vivid pictures of far-off places. I was enchanted by her spirit and warmth, and as the rain poured outside, I felt a connection deeper than I had ever experienced.

Our encounters became a regular occurrence. Every Thursday, she would come to the café, and we would share stories, laughter, and an undeniable chemistry. I found myself daydreaming about her, imagining a future together. But as the weeks passed, I noticed a hint of sadness behind her smile. There were moments when her gaze would drift as if she were searching for something lost.

One evening, as we walked through the city after a late café visit, I decided to confront her about it. 

"Missy, is everything alright? You seem... distracted sometimes."

She paused, looking up at the stars above. "It's just... I have a past I'm trying to escape. Sometimes it feels like it's catching up to me."

My heart raced at her honesty. "You can tell me anything. I'm here for you."

She hesitated, biting her lip, and I could sense the weight of her words.

 "I'll tell you one day, Sam. Just not right now."

I respected her boundaries, but it fueled my curiosity. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story, something hidden beneath her charming exterior.

Weeks turned into months, and our bond deepened. I found myself falling for her, but she remained a puzzle I couldn't quite solve. Just when I thought I was beginning to understand her, she would pull away, retreating into her world. Yet, every time she returned, it was as if nothing had changed, and that familiar spark reignited.

Then came the fateful day that altered everything. I had planned a surprise for her, a picnic in the park to celebrate our six-month anniversary. As I set up the blanket under a blooming cherry blossom tree, excitement bubbled within me. I couldn't wait to see her smile.