A word with her

It was a blind date. All I knew was her name.

I’ve been on dates before, but never this nervous. Something about this one felt different—like a new chapter waiting for me.

We had a table reserved at Gretto’s, a cozy little restaurant that glowed with aesthetic lightings and the soft murmur of late-night conversations. I sent her a quick text: "Reached?"

(I know, not picking her up might seem a little rude, but she was okay with it—said she was comfortable taking the chance.)

She replied, “Almost there.”

My heart fluttered like I was about to be pushed onstage, unprepared, with an audience waiting to see how I’d perform.

I kept glancing at the door, every chime of its bell making my pulse jump.

And then she walked in—wearing a dark blue skirt, patterned with little white daisies. She looked like spring wrapped in twilight. I stood up instinctively, nerves dissolving into something gentler.

“Hey… I’m Aiden,” I said, offering a side hug, unsure of how much space to give or take.

“Hello, Aiden,” she replied, her voice really calm in the noisy room. “Rupsi here.”

And just like that, the world outside paused.

Our dinner wasn’t just a meal—it was a slow dance of words and glances. She talked about her favorites, sunsets and poetry, She told me she loved the smell of the first rain and the feeling of old paper beneath her fingers. I told her how I often live in my head, chasing ideas, writing half-poems on napkins in cafés.

There were silences, but it wasn't emptiness. They were like spaces between verses in a song we were learning to sing together. Time, I realized, had quietly slipped away. We weren’t just two strangers anymore. We were becoming a story.

As we left Gretto’s, I turned to her. “Do you like midnight walks?”

She tilted her head, playfully. “I do, but why would you ask me that now?”

I smiled. “Maybe it’s the weather… or maybe it’s the girl sitting in front of me who’s made my heart race all evening. A walk might slow it down.”

“Hoo hoo,” she laughed softly. “The weather is indeed pretty.”

“And so is the girl,” I added, my eyes meeting hers.

She blushed. “Where do you want to take me, Aiden?”

I pulled her chair back and offered my hand. “Let’s let the road decide.”

It was already past 11, the streets quiet and slick with a recent drizzle. I knew it wasn’t easy for her to trust someone she’d only just met, but here she was, walking beside me. That meant something. No, that meant everything.

“Why aren’t you talking about your past?” I asked gently.

She looked up at the cloudy night. “Some moments feel like a dream. And dreams… they’re beautiful while they last. But eventually, we wake up. We go back to our lives.”

In that one sentence, she told me a thousand stories. Of joy and sorrow, of letting go and starting over. Her silence had weight, and in it, I heard her strength.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Certain heartbreaks don’t break us—they build us. It’s not about losing someone. It’s about learning to live beautifully without them.”

We were already holding hands. I don’t remember when it happened. It just did—like it was always meant to.

Raindrops whispered against the leaves above us. I looked at her. “Shall we go home?”

She smiled, squeezing my hand softly. “We can stay a bit longer.....”

And we did. Not speaking, not rushing, just being there. Sometimes, that’s all love is—being with someone who sees you, listens to your silence, and chooses to stay.

In the end, love isn’t about how long we’ve known someone. It’s about the moments that make time irrelevant.

“Love isn’t measured by how long we have someone in our lives, but by the moments we share and the understanding we find along the way.”

- Malik Aiden