Chapter 2: The Whispers of a Golden Summer
The First Connection
It all began with a simple notification, a digital whisper that eventually became the loudest sound in my life. I remember the exact moment Nadim's name flashed on my screen. I was sitting by my window, the same one where I sit now, but back then, the view was filled with hope. At first, it was just formal talk—exchanging names, talking about our favorite songs, and complaining about the humid summer heat. But Nadim had a way of turning a simple "How was your day?" into a conversation that lasted until the stars faded into the morning light.
He wasn't like the other boys. He seemed to listen not just with his ears, but with his heart. He would ask me things like, "What does your silence mean?" or "What are the dreams you're too afraid to tell anyone?" I was a girl who had always kept her heart under lock and key, but with him, I felt like the walls were melting. Every message from him was a dopamine hit, a spark that turned my ordinary world into a canvas of bright colors.
The Magic of "Tanki" and Late-Night Flirting
We entered that beautiful, dizzying phase people call "Tanki." But to me, it didn't feel cheap; it felt like a secret garden we were building together. He was a master of words, a poet of the modern age. He would send me voice notes in the middle of the night, his voice husky and low, telling me how he couldn't stop thinking about the way I laughed.
I remember one specific night. The rain was drumming against the roof, and we were on a call for six hours. He said, "You know, I'm just a guy who has nothing to offer but a heart that's too big for his own good. Would you be okay with that?" My heart shattered into a million pieces of pure love. I didn't care about money, status, or the world. I wanted to be the one who stayed by his side when he had nothing. I wanted to be his strength, his peace, his everything.
The Birth of "Koliza
Then came the night that changed the very rhythm of my heartbeat. We were talking about our deepest fears. I told him how I was afraid of being abandoned, of being "too much" for someone to handle. There was a long silence on the other end. Then, I heard him take a deep breath, and he whispered, "You are not just someone I like. You are my Koliza."
I froze. In our language, "Koliza" means the soul, the liver, the very core of one's existence. It's not just a word; it's a commitment. When he called me that, I felt like I had finally found my home. I wasn't just his girlfriend; I was a part of his body, a part of his survival. From that night on, every time he said that word, I felt a physical pull toward him. I started living for that word. I started believing that as long as I was his "Koliza," nothing in this world could ever hurt me.
The Invisible Vows
During that golden summer, we made vows that were never written on paper. We talked about a small house with white curtains, a balcony full of plants, and a life where we would share every tea and every tear. He would say, "If the whole world stands against us, I will hold your hand and walk through the fire." I believed him. I believed every single lie that felt like a promise.
I started distancing myself from my friends, even my family. My world became a circle with only one person in the center: Nadim. I was so blinded by the light of his affection that I didn't see the shadows growing behind him. I was ready to walk out of my home with nothing but my trust in him. I saw him as a saint, a hero who had rescued me from a life of boredom. I didn't know that the same person who called me "Koliza" was also the one who would eventually tear my heart out of my chest.