In Between Us

Seven months had passed. Not a short time, yet it felt like it slipped by unnoticed. And still, she often found herself asking, “How did we even get this close?” It was something she never saw coming, something far beyond her expectations.

She remembered their first meeting vividly. It was during the college event—just another ordinary activity, or so she thought. She never expected it would be the beginning of a connection so strange, so quiet, yet so deeply rooted. The memory was sharp: the room, the noise, the nervous laughter of strangers getting to know each other. But the clearest thing of all was him. The way he asked her name. The way he started a simple conversation that felt anything but simple.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t his appearance that drew her in. She didn’t even realize he was attractive at first. It was his voice, the way he spoke. Calm, measured, yet effortless. She was captivated—not in the dramatic way movies portray, but in a quiet admiration that slowly grew stronger. That day, for the first time in her life, she understood what people meant by “love at first sight.” It was new, unfamiliar, and strangely gentle.

As days went by, she started seeing the world differently—because of him. There were so many things she hadn’t known before, so many perspectives she’d never considered. Through his presence, she learned more than just facts or ideas. She learned how to see things with a broader heart, to listen, to reflect. He made her feel like life had layers she never noticed.

Yet, not everything was easy to understand. His behavior confused her. Sometimes, it felt like he treated her as just a friend. Other times, something in his gaze or words suggested more. It was unclear—beautifully unclear, and painfully so. Still, deep down, she knew. Or maybe she only assumed. That he never saw her as more than a friend. That all the feelings she held close were hers alone.

But the strangest part? It didn’t hurt. At least, not in the way heartbreaks usually do. She never felt the sting of rejection or the ache of being unloved. Somehow, she always felt that being close to him—just like this—was enough. Even when her heart quietly asked for more, she learned to silence it. To settle in the comfort of what they were, without pushing it further.

Still, human hearts are greedy. There were days she wished for more—more clarity, more warmth, more of him. But wishing always came with weight, and she grew tired of carrying it. So she chose stillness. Acceptance. A soft kind of love, the kind that doesn’t demand anything in return.

That night, after months of keeping everything inside, she opened her laptop. The screen glowed in the dark, and her fingers hovered over the keyboard, uncertain. It had been nearly two years since she last wrote something from the heart. But now, she was writing again. And it was all because of him.

She didn’t write hoping he’d read it. She didn’t need him to understand. She just needed to release what had been bottled up for so long. All the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the unspoken thoughts. He had become a chapter of her life she never wanted to forget. So she archived it—literally. He was the first person she ever created an Instagram archive for. A digital keepsake for someone too special to delete, too precious to erase.

Many say first love is sweet. For her, it was more than that. It was complex. Tender. And yes, a little painful—but not in a destructive way. It was the kind of pain that reminded her she had loved something real. And that night, for the second time, she chose to let him go. Not out of anger. Not because she gave up. But because she finally understood what it meant to love without possession.

“I really fell in love with you, A,” she whispered in her mind, “But tonight, I’m letting you go. Again. And this time, I won’t fall in love with you anymore.”

It wasn’t a dramatic goodbye. There were no tears, no final messages, no sudden unfollows. It was the kind of farewell that happened quietly, in the corners of her mind. But it was real.

She closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Maybe they would still talk. Maybe they’d drift apart. Maybe one day, he would become just another name in her memory. But tonight, she chose herself.

And for the first time in a long while, she smiled to herself—bittersweet, but free. There were still tears threatening to fall, but they didn’t come from pain. They came from love. A love that had bloomed gently, lived quietly, and was now being released with grace.

He would never truly know how special he was to her.

But she would remember.

Always.