Some stories begin with a kiss. Ours began with a handshake and silence. He wasn't supposed to mean anything-just a classmate, a stranger, a passing name. But somehow, he became the boy who made me feel everything. The one I texted when I didn't know what to say. The one I looked for in crowded rooms without meaning to. The one who sat beside me once on a bus...and never really left. This isn't a perfect love story. There were no grand gestures, no dramatic declarations, and no promises. Just two people, slowly breaking and becoming, in a world that never stopped moving. He wasn't mine. But he felt like home.
More details