Chapter 2: The Beginning of Us — And Everything In Between
700 Words
After my final school results, I, Siyao, joined college.
On the outside, I was just another girl walking through a new phase of life — books in hand, a forced smile on my face, pretending to be fine.
But deep inside, I was still carrying the weight of everything I never said — about my broken family, about the father who was there in name but not in presence.
Still, I hid it well. I smiled. I studied. I moved on — or at least tried to.
That year, during the Dashain festival, I went to my maternal uncle’s house.
I was excited to meet my cousins, enjoy some family time, and escape the routine of college life.
What I didn’t expect was .....him.
Biraut.
It happened so naturally — a glance, a smile, a few words exchanged.
We didn’t even know each other for a full month, but the connection was undeniable.
It felt as if we had known each other for lifetimes.
There was comfort in his presence, and a spark that lit something inside me — something I thought had burned out long ago.
We got into a relationship quickly, without overthinking.
It wasn’t slow or planned — it just happened, like we were meant to cross paths exactly then.
A week later, I returned home… and that’s when our long-distance love story began.
We talked every day — for hours.
Through video calls, voice notes, and late-night texts, we built something powerful.
Biraut made me feel seen. Heard. Wanted.
But love isn’t always soft.
In time, our relationship became more than just love — it was filled with miscommunication, frustration, and pain too.
At first, he’d get sad if I cried. He’d try to calm me down, even cry with me.
But later… my tears started to feel invisible.
He changed.
Whenever something went wrong, I always ended up being the one blamed.
Somehow, I was always the one at fault.
But even with all that, I held on.
Because before I left his side, we had already created memories I could never forget.
I remember us sitting together, watching something on his phone, our shoulders brushing gently.
Biraut reached behind my head, pulled me closer… and kissed me.
It was soft. Gentle. My first kiss — filled with a kind of sweetness that made my heart flutter.
And the night before I returned home, he stayed late.
In the quiet of that room, he touched me — his hands exploring me slowly, stopping at my chest.
It was new, it was intense, and it was something I couldn’t put into words.
After I returned home, our conversations slowly turned… heated.
Our late-night calls took on a different tone.
Biraut was bold, confident — speaking about things I had never even imagined before.
And I, Siyao, was shy, nervous, unsure of how to respond.
Still, part of me was curious. Alive.
He asked me to send him a picture — something private.
At first, I refused. I was too scared. Too shy.
But he kept asking, gently, not forcing… but tempting.
Eventually, I gave in. My hands were shaking as I pressed send.
From that moment, the fire between us grew.
Our chats became intimate — layered with lust, whispers, and imagination.
He described the way he wanted to hold me, kiss me, touch every inch of my body.
And slowly, I found myself responding too — my shyness melting into curiosity, and curiosity turning into desire.
We were miles apart, yet somehow, Biraut was right there — in my mind, in my breath, in the way my heart raced at his words.
I found myself craving his voice, his attention, his touch — even if it was only through a screen.
It was new… and it was powerful.
But behind that burning passion, I still longed for something deeper.
I wanted love with softness. Touch with care.
I didn’t just want to be desired — I wanted to be understood, held, and chosen.
And while I gave him parts of me — my words, my body, my vulnerability —
a question lingered in my heart:
Was I truly being love....or was I just being wanted?
- Writer
