They say love is loud. Fireworks. Heartbeats. Screaming skies and crashing waves. But that wasn't how mine started. Mine began in silence. In passing looks. In the soft crunch of footsteps on dry earth. In a chocolate biscuit, quietly offered and never thanked. It was a Friday afternoon—the last before the exam season closed in like a storm we'd all seen coming. The sky was washed in gold, the kind of late light that made shadows stretch long and secrets feel heavier. Our school felt slower, quieter, almost thoughtful. We had just lost the final volleyball match, though "lost" was never quite the right word. We gave it up. A quiet rebellion against time, against pressure, against the burden of expectation. Everyone said we needed to study. But maybe we needed to breathe, too. I was sitting on the old wooden bench beside the dorm keeper's door, sketchbook open on my lap, pencil frozen between fingers. I wasn't drawing. I was waiting. Not for something. For someone. And that made all the difference.Then he came. Bfam. The boy who named himself Asap Rocky in our little world of nicknames and coded glances. The boy who called me Coco like it meant something more than just resemblance to Coco Jones. Who sometimes called me Vargas, after the fearless volleyball queen we both admired. His steps were tired, his eyes half-lost in thought, but he still managed that crooked half-smile—the one that felt like it was just for me.
He walked straight to the dorm keeper, asked for a key with his usual soft voice, then turned to me like he'd just remembered I existed. Like he was surprised I was there.We talked a little—about the match, about being tired, about his headache. Then, just as he was about to head off, he paused. "I brought you something sweet," he said softly, then added, "Check my desk before lights out."He didn't hand it to me. He didn't wait for a reaction. He just turned, mumbled something about needing sleep, and disappeared into the dorms.Later that night, I opened his desk drawer and found a chocolate biscuit, fresh and clean in its box. Like maybe he had been keeping it with him all day, waiting for the right moment.And remember I let him go. Just like that.I didn't say thank you.. Just like that.It wasn't because I wasn't grateful. It was because my heart was too full of everything I couldn't say. Gratitude. Hope. Fear. Guilt. Love. A hurricane of feelings pressed behind a smile I barely managed to hold.Everyone said I broke them—him and Loren. She wasn't just anyone; she was my childhood playmate, our families close like vines wrapped around the same fence. Her uncle paid my school fees in Ordinary level so I had to be grateful.But in primary school, she was the devil. Always accusing us of everything, even when we made those mistakes together. We called her Satan, half-laughing, half-true. How could I be the one to hurt her? But he told her they needed a break. For studies, he said. That was the excuse. But I knew it wasn't just about school. I saw the way he looked at me, even when he didn't mean to. Especially then.He once told me he had a crush on me. But when I denied my feelings—lied to protect my heart, protect him, protect Loren—he pulled back. Said he didn't believe me. And later saidthat love is hard that I should stay away from it, because with a heart as soft as mine, it would kill me.Maybe he was right.Sometimes he talks like the world weighs too much on his shoulders. Sometimes he disappears into silence and comes back with shadows under his eyes. He says he doesn't know what's wrong, only that something is. And he doesn't believe talking can fix it.But he does talk to me even if it's a little.
It was a stupid lie. One of those small things you say quickly, thinking it will protect you—thinking it will pass unnoticed. But it didn't. It landed like a stone in still water, ripples spreading faster than I could chase. I told him I had a boyfriend.I told him on a Friday, of all days. I don't even remember why I did it. Maybe I was afraid. Maybe I wanted to test him. Maybe I just panicked. But the moment the words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a mistake.He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at me with those eyes that always seemed to see too much. Then he nodded—slow, like he was agreeing with something he didn't believe in—and walked away.Later, someone told me he looked a little mad. Not loud, not angry. Just quiet-mad. The kind that doesn't yell but leaves everything colder than before.I tried to take it back. Not in words, not directly. Just with presence. With the way I lingered near him. With the way I looked at him when he wasn't looking. But nothing worked. The air between us was full of the lie, and I didn't know how to break it.And then Loren's bestie started sitting with him more. That's when I lost my chance completely. Now we only talk through glances and missed chances.I want to ask him if he's okay. If he still hides sweets for people who lie. But I can't. I'm frozen. And he's slipping further and further into silence.
He studies like there's nothing left to care about. Talks to others but not to me. And it breaks something deep inside.I feel like I don't want to see him again. But more than that, I miss him. Not just the boy. The friendship. The quiet bond. The unsaid truth we shared in stolen moments.This is the part of the story where everything should be clearer. But instead, it only gets messier. Because I was once the confident girl—the girl no boy dared to toy with. And now I'm the girl who lied out of fear. The girl who waits in silence.Then Sunday came. The kind of Sunday that doesn't rush. That lets you breathe long enough to look at yourself. I sat by my bed, my head spinning, my heart unraveling. I thought: How did I get here? Where did it all begin?Because I used to be someone else. I was strong. Proud. The firebrand. The girl who didn't ask for attention. Who didn't fall in love like this—like drowning with open eyes. But now, I couldn't even look at him. I couldn't talk. And all because I had fallen—deeper than I ever planned to go.I thought of his half-smiles, of the way he never greeted even his own girlfriend's sister but came to greet my mom on visiting day. How he hid a chocolate biscuit for me like it meant something. How he looked when no one was watching.And it hit me—I was obsessed. Not just in love. But consumed. And I hated myself for that. For giving so much to someone who no longer noticed.But that Sunday, something cracked open. I missed me. The real me. The girl who once laughed with her head high and dared the world to hurt her. I wanted her back.And maybe I still love him. Maybe I always will. But I made a vow to choose myself again. To rise again.Because this isn't just about him. It's about the girl I used to be—and the girl I'm becoming.Even if I have to walk that path alone.
"lead me to the start", I saidtelling my mind to remind me how this startedat first, strangers — chit-chatting and allThen too close for the word 'friend' to fit us.with many secrets to be strangers — that's usadding the first one, they're all six