sat at my desk, painting a rose.
As my brush traced the soft curve of its petals, a sudden thought crossed my mind—
What if I never loved Dorian?
The thought lingered longer than I expected. I reached for the cup of tea resting beside me and took a slow sip. My eyes drifted back to the canvas. The rose looked almost alive—majestic in its beauty, gentle yet intense.
Another memory stirred.
"I have a crush," Veronica had said.
"Oh? And why do you love him?" I asked.
"He's cool," she replied, smiling warmly. "And he's cute."
Her smile was infectious; it made me smile back without meaning to.
I finished the final stroke of the painting and leaned back in my chair, taking in the sight of the rose.
Such a childish girl, I thought, though a smile escaped me.
When I glanced at the clock, it was already 1 p.m.
I stood up and walked toward the living room, my steps slow. Voices drifted through the door, making me hesitate. I opened it carefully and saw Veronica sitting with her mother—and mine.
Veronica had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember. She was my mother's friend's daughter, my childhood companion. We went to the same school—she in seventh grade, me in eighth.
I was just a normal girl, living her teenage years quietly.
I had one close friend. One day, he introduced me to his childhood friend—Dorian. He was from a different section, yet somehow we grew close. Closer than I ever expected.
That was when I realized I had feelings for him.
I told myself things like he doesn't like you and he doesn't care—anything to bury what I felt. But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.
Then one day, he came to me and said three words.
"I love you."
I waited only a moment before answering with four.
"I love you too."
I always believed loving me was difficult.
But he loved me as effortlessly as breathing.
I was never playful or loud—always serious, always reserved. I had only one friend, and one love.
And somehow, that was enough.