Love, For the First Time

*I was just 17.*

Class 10. Quiet. A bit of a loner. Most of my time was spent glued to games, lost in my own world.

We were living in a rented house back then. Next door, one of the rooms had been empty for a while — until one day, a new family came to check it out. They weren’t alone. A girl was with them.

And then... it happened.

Our eyes met — just for a moment.

But that one second? It was electric.

Her eyes were soft, deep — like a deer caught in the sunlight. Beautiful in a way I couldn’t put into words.

Back then, I didn’t think much of it. Just a little spark. Just... something.But love? Not yet.

A few days later, they moved in — just three doors away.

Every day, when she came up to hang her washed clothes in the sun, I’d catch a glimpse of her.

Still, I never looked directly at her face. Out of respect. Out of fear.

What if she thought I was just another guy staring?

So I never saw just how beautiful she really was.

But still, something about her pulled me in — quietly, invisibly.

---

Now, here’s where it all starts to twist.

There was an older guy in our area — *Sumon bhai*.

He liked her. A lot.

But he didn’t have the courage to tell her.

So what did he do?

He gave me his phone number.

Told me to pass it to her.

I refused, At first.

But eventually, I gave in.

And that day — the day I went to give her that number — was the day my whole world changed.

Because that’s when I saw her face properly for the very first time.

And oh god... she was breathtaking.

Her smile? Like honey. Sweet, soft, and completely disarming.

And when she smiled, tiny dimples danced on her cheeks. I was done for.

I went there for someone else.

But I came back carrying a feeling I couldn’t shake.

---

From that moment on, I was hooked.

It was summer. The mango trees were full.

I’d go to the rooftop, pretending to pick mangoes — but really, I just wanted to see her.

A month passed. Then came *Ramadan. And after that, **Eid*.

Eid day — we all dressed up. Tried to look our best.

I saw her again. This time, wearing a crown-like headpiece on her head.

She looked like royalty. A queen.

That day, we visited her house for Eid greetings, as tradition says.

She looked at me. I looked at her.

And something just... clicked.

---

After Eid, she was gone for a while — visiting relatives.

7 days passed.

And then — like a plot twist — she returned.

And that’s when I realized: this isn’t just a crush anymore.

I’m in love.

But what could I do? Just staring from a distance wasn’t enough.

One day, with help from an older sister in our area, I found out her name.

*Faria.*

My first love.

I asked that sister to tell Faria how I felt.

She did.

And Faria’s reply?

She wanted me to tell her — face to face.

---

I was terrified.

But one day, around 2 PM, I gathered every bit of courage I had… and stood in front of her.

My heart was pounding. My hands were shaking.

I looked down. Couldn’t even face her.

And somehow, I said it.

*“I love you.”*

She smiled.

And she said *I love you too also*.

---That day felt like magic.

From then on, we saw each other often.

She didn’t have a phone, so we wrote letters.

Every morning at 7 AM, we’d both come out — just to see each other.

Just to stand still and get lost in each other’s eyes.

Even my mom found out about us. She smiled knowingly.

But here’s the crazy thing — we never held hands.

Not even once.

We loved each other from a distance.

But it was real. So, so real.

One night, I wrote her a letter.

I said,

*“We love each other so much. Yet we’ve never even held hands.”*

---

A few nights later, she called me over. It was quiet. No one was around.

She asked,

*“What you wrote in that letter... is it true?”*

I nodded.

*“Yes.”*

Without another word, she hugged me.

Tightly. As if she had been waiting forever.

Then she looked into my eyes...

...and kissed me.

Softly. Slowly. Her lips touched mine.

And time. Just. Stopped.

It was my first hug. My first kiss.

My entire body felt like it lit on fire. My skin tingled. Her scent lingered on me like perfume.

And in that moment, I swear I thought I could stay there forever.

After that, whenever her mom left the house, she would call me over.

I was scared someone would find out.

But she wasn’t.

She was fearless. Bold. Loving.

And God — the way she held me. Kissed me. Loved me.

---

But I wasn’t always good to her.

Sometimes, I’d ignore her. Not even look at her.

It hurt her. I know it did.

She’d call me late at night, cry in my arms, and say:

*“Why do you hurt me like this?”*

And every time, my heart broke.

Sometimes, I’d try to kiss her — but she’d pull away.

Because in those emotional moments, she didn’t want romance.

That’s when things slowly began to change.

*And that’s where I’ll leave it — for now.*

Because the next part of this story?

It’s not sweet.

It’s not magical.

It’s painful.

Brutal.

And heartbreaking.

*That’s when everything fell apart.*

And the worst part? It was my fault.

I’ll tell you the rest in Part 2.

But I warn you — the end of our love wasn’t just sad. It was tragic. Cruel. And it might make you hate me.

Because sometimes, first love doesn’t last.

But it always leaves a scar.

---Let me know when you’re ready for Part 2.

Or... do you want help writing it together?