A Kiss to Remember

Chapter 4 — Before Everything Changed

10 years ago

If someone had told me back then that I’d spend half my adult life trying not to think about Daniel Hart, I’d have laughed. Back then, I thought love was simple, that wanting someone was enough to make everything fall into place.

Turns out, life had other plans.

The smell of rich coffee still has a way of taking me back — to that tiny campus café with mismatched chairs and that one flickering bulb above our favorite table. I used to spend hours there pretending to study, but mostly waiting for Daniel to show up. He always did, eventually, laptop in hand, hoodie half-zipped, a grin that made every other boy disappear.

“Hey, French girl,” he’d say, his voice teasing but warm.

He called me that long before I’d ever been to France. I was taking an intro class, struggling through my accent, and he’d started helping me with pronunciation after overhearing me butcher the word bonjour in the library.

From there, we just… never stopped talking.

I was studying linguistics; he was majoring in computer science. Two completely different worlds, yet somehow we found a middle ground — in language.

He’d tell me about coding — about how logic could make machines understand human emotion. I told him about phonetics, about how words carried history in their syllables. Somewhere between caffeine and midnight, we realized we wanted to build something together.

“Imagine,” Daniel had said one night, “A company that teaches language using tech, not just grammar and vocab, but connection. Like… you could talk to anyone, anywhere, and it would mean something.”

“Beyond borders,” I’d added.

He smiled. “Beyond ordinary.”

That became our thing. Our quiet motto.

Sometimes, when he’d code for hours, I’d sit next to him, translating sentences in French and pretending I understood what he was doing. He’d joke that my presence made his code run smoother. I didn’t believe him, but I stayed anyway.

There was something about Daniel that felt permanent — as if no matter where I went, he’d somehow be there too.

---

I can still see the night it all started.

We were sitting under the old oak tree. Finals were over, summer heat heavy in the air. I had my head on his shoulder, and he was tracing circles on the back of my hand.

“So what happens after this?” he asked.

“After graduation?”

He nodded. “You’ve got your big plans, right? Paris?”

I laughed softly. “It’s just a maybe. I applied for a scholarship, but they only take two students a year. What about you? Going to stay here and build your empire?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll build something for us.”

That line 'for us' it hit differently.

I looked up at him then, his face half-lit by moonlight, and something in my chest tightened. “Daniel…”

He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Don’t look at me like that, Lana. I’ll forget how to breathe.”

I laughed, nervous, giddy, terrified. “Then maybe I should look away.”

But I didn’t.

That was the night he kissed me for the first time — slow, careful, like he was learning a language made just for us. And maybe he was. Because even now, ten years later, I can still remember exactly how it felt — the warmth of his hands, the scent of his hoodie, the heartbeat pressed against mine.

---

After that, we were inseparable. Study sessions turned into late-night walks, and late night walks turned into promises.

He told me about his parents’ failed business, how he wanted to prove that dreams didn’t have to die just because they were risky. I told him about my mom, who worked two jobs and always said love didn’t pay the bills — but I wanted to believe it could.

We planned everything, a start-up, travel, everything. We wrote ideas in a notebook with creased pages and coffee stains:

Heartline

Extra

He circled Extra. “Short, bold, beyond limits.”

I told him it didn’t sound finished.

He said, “That’s because the best things start unfinished.”

That’s Daniel — always seeing possibility where I saw uncertainty.

---

Then the email came.

Congratulations, Miss Moreau. We’re pleased to inform you that you’ve been selected for the French Language Immersion Program in Paris.

I read it three times before I could breathe. It was everything I’d dreamed of. A full scholarship, a year in Paris, an open door to a future I didn’t even know I wanted until it was right there.

Daniel found me in the courtyard, letter in hand, tears streaming down my face.

“What happened?” he panicked. “Who do I have to kill?”

I laughed and handed him the email. His smile faltered when he read it.

“Paris,” he whispered. “You got in.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… incredible.”

But his voice cracked on the last word.

We sat there in silence for a long time, both pretending to be happy for each other.

---

That night, we met again under the oak tree. I was crying before I even saw him.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly, pulling me close. “You earned this.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Yes, you do.” He smiled sadly. “And that’s okay. You have to.”

“But what about—”

“Us?” he finished for me.

I nodded.

He looked at me for a long time, then pressed a hand to my cheek. “Then promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that no matter where you go, you’ll remember this. Not the pain, just… the beginning.”

I nodded, choking on tears. “And you? What will you do?”

He hesitated, then smiled, that half grin I’d fallen for. “I’ll build something for you. For us. So when you come back, you’ll have somewhere you belong.”

Then he kissed me again — harder this time, desperate, final.

And when we pulled apart, I knew it wasn’t goodbye. It was a promise.

---

Back in the present, I blink, the hum of the office pulling me out of the past.

Extra International hums with silent glass walls. His company. His dream.

The company he built… for me.

I look at the framed motto on the wall outside Daniel’s office:

Beyond Ordinary. Beyond Borders.

My breath catches.

Ten years ago, those words were ours, whispered under an oak tree on a campus where everything seemed possible.

Now, they’re everywhere.

And so is he.

---------------

The first hint that Daniel never truly moved on.

And also, Lana begins to understand that the company and everything Daniel became traces back to that one promise.