I never really liked my name. Especially my first name. It sounded, too kind. I always thought it never fit me. My second name was common. I've met girls with the same name as I had, so it didn't struck me as the name that would give me a sense of individuality. My third, well, I liked it. To me, it sounded bold. But, it was still too valiant to identify me. My nickname though. I always found it weird. And people never really understood how to spell it, I guess I got tired of explaining. Years passed and I've grown to be okay with my second and third names.
But when he called me by my first, it sounded so foreign. It wasn't weird. It wasn't too kind. I felt like, he was calling...me. I found myself wanting to hear him call me that, again. I wanted to familiarize myself with the name I used to disfavor. With name no one else dared to call me before.
I turned my head to look at his sleeping form beside me. His back hunched over the table, head resting on his arms. I sat closer next to him and gently played with his hair.
"Maria?"
I painfully smiled as he stirred to wake up,
thinking I disturbed his sleep. So I lifted my hand from his head. But he took it back and held it by his face. I smiled, and went back to reading, leaving him to his dreams.
It's just a name. Everyone has that. But he made me love a part of myself that I failed to love before. And it made me love him even more.
