He was just an average-looking guy. But his eyes—there was something about them. They were speaking to me, even before he said a word. I saw something flickering there—anxiety, worry… maybe even fear of meeting someone with whom he had not talked long enough to know. It made sense. After all, we hadn’t known each other for long. A few emails, some texts, and here we were—strangers trying to be more.
And I—I felt the same.
He might’ve thought I was calm, poised, and untouched by nerves. But the truth is, I was more anxious than him. I was just better at hiding it. That’s how I’ve always been—composed on the outside, a storm quietly spinning underneath. My palms were damp, and I could hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears, yet I smiled like nothing was off.
Even during our email and text days, I could notice that we were different in so many ways. He likes to talk in public; I'm more reserved. He's a foodie, while I'm not. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy meals, but I am a bit choosy in taste and amount. He liked to decide quickly and wait for my replies. But I—I liked to think, weigh things, and take time. But still… despite all that, something was there—something pulling us closer in a way I couldn't explain.
That day, we drove everywhere. He was careful in every step. Noticing everything, asking if I need something. Trying his best to make me feel comfortable.
He showed me his neighborhood—where he lived, the turns he takes without thinking, and the places that made him feel like himself. He pointed out his favorite food stalls, and we tried little bites of everything. He was delighted by my reactions. I was surprised by how easy it felt, like we’d done this before.
Later, he took me to his office. He had some things to finish, so I wandered nearby. I walked through unfamiliar streets, shops I didn’t know, and faces I’d never seen before. But somehow, I didn’t feel lost. I felt... peaceful. Like I was watching a version of life I could step into if I ever chose to.
I had come with so many questions. Things I’d stored from our conversations, questions I thought I’d finally ask face-to-face. But just like when you plan to visit a temple—rehearsing all the things you’ll pray for—and then the moment you step inside, you forget them all… not because they don’t matter, but because the stillness swallows you, and all you can do is feel… that’s what it was like.
I melted into the moment. I didn’t need answers. Just presence.
As the day ended, we drove again, slow and quiet, with music low in the background. We didn’t say much. We didn’t have to.
And then we were at the airport.
No big drama. No dramatic goodbye.
Just a long, quiet hug—the kind that speaks louder than words. His arms tightened around me, pulling me close, like he was trying to memorize the shape of my body and the sound of my heartbeat. It felt like he wanted to imprint the moment between us, as if this was the only way to make sense of what we had—something brief, something deep.
He pressed a soft kiss on my forehead.
And then, he just held me there. Still. Not letting go right away. Like two people trying to breathe through the weight of time that was already slipping through their hands.
When he finally stepped back, I looked up and saw his eyes, just like the first time we met. Speaking again. Asking questions, trying to say something he couldn’t quite put into words. That same silent language, unspoken but unmistakable.
He asked, almost in a whisper,
“When are we meeting again?”
“How?”
“Where?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat tightened.
My eyes were full of tears, but I held them in. I didn’t want him to see me cry. Not because I didn’t feel it, but because once the tears started, I didn’t know if they’d stop.
So I smiled.
And said, “Soon. Very soon.”
Then I turned and walked toward the gate.
Didn’t look back. Couldn’t.
But in that last second before I crossed the threshold, I took one final glance. And there he was. Just standing. Watching. His eyes—still trying to speak. Still full of all the things we hadn’t said.
And me? Just like our first meeting—calm on the outside, silent smile on my lips, but inside…
A storm of questions.
An ache without shape.
A feeling too big for words.
We were both trying to understand what had just happened.
Maybe still are..
Something about him made me want to stay a little longer. I wish I could reverse time.
I don’t know what this was—a chapter, a pause, or a beginning.
We barely knew each other.
Yet in some strange, quiet way, I felt known.
Now, as I sit here, high above the world, somewhere between goodbye and maybe-again, I keep thinking of that last moment.
His hug. His kiss.
The way his hands held me was like he was holding on to something he didn’t want to lose.
And I wonder…
Was this just a beautiful detour?
Or the start of something we’ll write together, little by little, over time?
I don’t have answers. Neither does he.
But maybe that’s okay.
Some people walk into your life and leave with a goodbye.
Some, even after goodbye, never really leave.
While some end up together for the rest of their lives...
