One Matcha Latte, Please!

𝘏𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘬𝘰 𝘯𝘢 𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘮 𝘬𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘬𝘰 𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘰.

My earliest memory is not of toys or laughter, but of leaving. While my mother and I continued to suffer, he was already 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 - with a new family.

He was successful.
He was happy.
He had a new home.

While my mother squeezed every ounce of her strength just to put food on the table, just to push me forward even as she slowly burned out, my father was enjoying his life.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘧.

A neighbor. A child who became my friend - only for a moment.

We called each other Rien and Damiel back then. As if it was just the two of us in the world. I 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 learned his real name.

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥.

We only shared a month of time, yet he left behind something 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 - something I could never 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘺 in the past.

A butterfly hair clip, and a feeling too young to be given a name. He even promised he would marry me someday.

I grew up. New faces surrounded me. I learned how to love different things.

I found friends who felt like home and online connections that faded and disappeared, memories that came and went like summer rain.

So why is it 𝘩𝘪𝘮 - the one who stayed for only a short while - whom I cannot forget?

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵?

The truth is, I want to find him.
Not to revive the past.
Not just as a childhood friend.

My goal is to find him because instead of being just childhood friends...

𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴.

Ye