The first few months of our relationship felt like something out of a dream.Every moment together seemed brighter, softer — like the world had quietly rearranged itself to make space for us.
We saw each other whenever we could.Most days, I'd head straight to her house after work, and she'd already be waiting, smiling at the door.She always cooked something simple — pasta, rice, or sometimes just sandwiches — but no meal ever tasted as good as the ones she made.
We'd eat together, talk for hours about life, family, and the future.Sometimes we laughed so much that I forgot what we were even talking about.Those were the moments that made everything feel easy, effortless, right.
On weekends, we'd go to the movies, wander through the mall, or grab a snack at the little diner near her neighborhood.Every date felt like the first. Every kiss carried the same excitement — that perfect mix of shyness and desire that only young love has.
Sometimes, we'd just sit in the park, sharing earphones, listening to music, hands barely touching but hearts completely connected.There was no rush. No pressure. Just discovery — of her, of me, of what it meant to belong to someone.
As the weeks passed, our affection deepened.The more time we spent together, the harder it became to say goodbye.
And then one weekend, everything changed.
My parents had gone out of town to visit family in Ponta Negra, leaving the house empty for two whole days.I texted her that morning:
"Hey, want to go to the movies later? Maybe hang out after?"
She agreed right away.
But the truth? I had something else in mind.For days, I'd been fighting thoughts I didn't want to admit out loud — curiosity, temptation, the urge to take one more step closer.
I even stopped by a pharmacy on my way home.Bought a small box. Four condoms.I remember holding it, feeling like I was doing something forbidden — yet thrilling.
At home, I tested one out of sheer nervousness. My hands were shaking.It was ridiculous, but I wanted everything to go right.Just thinking about her — her scent, her voice, her smile — was enough to make my pulse quicken and my mind spin.
That night, I couldn't sleep.I kept imagining what it would be like to be alone with her — not as the technician who once fixed her Internet, but as the man who now held her heart.
I didn't know if anything would actually happen.But one thing was certain: I wanted that moment to be perfect.
Because somewhere between laughter, late-night calls, and soft kisses in the dark, I had fallen completely in love.