Unexpectedly In Love

This story is only fictional. The names, personnel, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or fictional. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. The author is not perfect. Expect grammatical errors, construction of sentences, and wrong spelling. Chapter 1 I used to believe in love. Not the kind of love you see in movies where everything magically works out in the end. I believed in the simple kind. The kind where two people choose each other every day. The kind where you can tell someone everything without being afraid that they'll eventually use it against you. The kind where forever actually means forever. I used to believe that if you loved someone enough, they would love you the same way. I was wrong. I stared at the couple sitting across the café, their hands intertwined on top of the table. The girl was laughing at something the guy said, while he looked at her like she was the only person in the room. I smiled. Not because I was jealous. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. I took another sip of my coffee and looked away. "Stop staring." I almost choked. I turned toward my best friend, who was scrolling through her phone without even looking at me. "I'm not staring." "You've been looking at them for the past five minutes." "I was just—" "Observing?" I rolled my eyes. "Exactly." She finally looked up from her phone and raised an eyebrow. "You're jealous." "I'm not." "You miss being in love." I laughed. A short, humorless laugh. "Definitely not." She knew better than to argue with me. Instead, she took a sip of her drink and quietly said, "You don't have to pretend you're okay all the time, you know." I looked down at my coffee. There it was again. That word. Okay. People always assumed that because I could laugh, go out, work, eat, sleep, and live my life normally, I was already okay. Maybe I was. Or maybe I had simply gotten really good at pretending. It's funny how trauma works. It doesn't always look like crying in your bedroom at three in the morning. Sometimes, it looks like laughing with your friends while a tiny voice inside your head keeps reminding you not to get too attached. Sometimes, it looks like being happy and immediately wondering when that happiness will disappear. Sometimes, it looks like running away from someone who hasn't even done anything wrong. And sometimes, it looks like me. Someone who wants to be loved but is terrified of being loved. I looked at the couple again. For a moment, I wondered what it felt like to trust someone completely. To not question every change in their tone. To not overthink every unanswered message. To not wonder if "I love you" would eventually become "I'm sorry." I shook my head. No. I was done with that. I had already spent too much time trying to put myself back together after someone else broke me. I wasn't going to do it again. "You're smiling." My friend's voice pulled me back. "What?" "You're smiling." I touched my lips and immediately stopped. "I wasn't." "You were." "I was thinking about something." "What?" "Nothing." She narrowed her eyes. "You're weird." "Thank you." We both laughed. And just like that, the heaviness disappeared. For a few minutes, everything felt normal. Maybe that was the strange thing about life. Yesterday, you could be crying over something you thought you'd never survive. Today, you're laughing like nothing happened. And tomorrow? Who knows. Maybe you'll get hurt again. Maybe you'll fall in love again. Or maybe you'll simply wake up and realize you've become someone completely different. I didn't know it then, but that ordinary afternoon was the beginning of something I never planned for. Something I wasn't ready for. Something I promised myself I would never allow to happen again. Love. ⸻ I was about to leave the café when someone suddenly bumped into me. Hard. My coffee flew out of my hand. "s**t!" The cup fell to the floor, spilling what little was left of my drink. I stared at the mess. Then slowly looked up. A guy stood in front of me, looking equally surprised. "I'm so sorry." I sighed. Of course. Of all the people in this café, I had to bump into someone. "It's fine." I bent down to pick up the cup. He did the same. Our hands reached for it at the same time. We stopped. He looked at me. I looked at him. For some reason, neither of us moved. Then he smiled. Not the kind of smile that made my heart skip. At least, that's what I told myself. The kind of smile that was slightly annoying. "Looks like I owe you a coffee." I raised an eyebrow. "No. You owe me a new coffee." He laughed. "Fair enough." I stood up and brushed my hands against my jeans. "Then we're even." "Actually..." He pointed at the coffee stain on my sleeve. "That looks like it's going to need another coffee." I looked down. Great. He was right. I sighed. "You really are annoying." He grinned. "And you don't even know my name yet." "I don't think I need to." He laughed again. "Okay. That's fair." I started walking toward the door. Then I heard him call out. "Hey!" I turned around. He held up a new cup of coffee. "I got you one." I stared at him. "You didn't have to." "I know." He smiled. "I wanted to." For a second, I didn't know what to say. So I simply took the cup. "Thanks." "You're welcome." I walked out of the café without looking back. Or at least, I tried not to. Because the truth was... I did look back. And he was still standing there, smiling. I didn't know his name. I didn't know his story. I didn't know that I'd see him again. And I definitely didn't know that this stranger would eventually become the person who would make me question everything I thought I knew about love. At that moment, he was simply a guy who spilled my coffee. Nothing more. Nothing less. Or so I thought.