Chapter 1: The Girl Who Loved Too Early
1300 Words
I still remember that day clearly, the day everything started to change between me and Adrian.
It wasn’t dramatic, no fireworks or grand gestures. Just an ordinary Friday afternoon, but sometimes, the ordinary ones are the ones that stay forever.
The sun was already dipping behind the university buildings, painting the sky orange and gold. The air smelled like rain again, that kind of scent that made you want to pause, breathe, and wish for something impossible.
Adrian was waiting for me outside the journalism building, leaning on his old motorbike — the one that always coughed before it started. He was wearing a plain white polo, sleeves rolled up, his sketchbook tucked under one arm.
“You're late again,” he said, smiling, his dimples appearing like they always do when he’s trying to hide impatience with charm.
“Traffic,” I lied, though we both knew I was just rushing to finish an article for the campus paper.
He handed me a cup of iced coffee. “You skipped lunch again. Drink this before you collapse.”
“Wow, concerned?” I raised my left brow teasing him.
“Of course,” he said. “Can’t let my favorite journalist faint before she interviews me for my future architectural empire.”
I laughed. “Empire.”
He smirked, brushing a bit of dust from his sleeve. “You’ll see. Someday, I’ll build something big not with my family's empire but mine. Something that’ll make you proud to write about me.”
At twenty-two, everything he said sounded possible.
We drove around the city that afternoon, just like we always did when classes ended early. No destination, no reason. Just the sound of the wind, the smell of gasoline, and his voice over the noise of the street.
Sometimes, we’d stop at the overpass near the river his “thinking spot,” as he called it.
That day, we sat on the edge of the concrete railing, legs dangling, watching the people below rush home.
“Have you ever wonder where we’ll be in ten years?” He asked suddenly
I shrugged. “Hopefully, not still broke and overworked.”
He chuckled, the sound soft and deep.
“I mean like... what if I’m working abroad by then? Or you’re writing for some big magazine? You think we’ll still be this close?”
His question made my chest tighten.
I looked at him — really looked. His hair was messy from the wind, his eyes reflecting the city lights.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” I asked.
He turned to me, serious now.
“Because people change, Maya. Dreams change. Maybe one day, we’ll have to choose between what we want and who we love.”
I smiled weakly. “Then let’s just choose both.”
He didn’t reply. He just looked away, the corners of his lips twitching like he wanted to believe me but couldn’t.
That night, when he dropped me home, he didn’t let go of my hand right away. He just stared at me, silent.
“Good night,” I whispered.
“Good night, Maya.” He squeezed my hands gently
But even as I entered our gate, I could still feel his fingers — warm, trembling, like they were holding on to something they were afraid to lose.
---
A week later, everything changed.
It was a Thursday afternoon when Adrian found me inside the same café where we first met. He looked... different. Nervous, restless. His usual calm had turned into something heavy.
“Maya,” he said, sitting across me. “I got the offer!!.”
“What offer?” I confuse asked.
“The firm in Dubai. They want me there in two months.”
My heart stopped for a second. “Dubai?”
He nodded. “It’s a big opportunity. Good pay, real projects. It’s what I’ve been working for.”
I stared at him, searching for a hint of hesitation. “So... you’re leaving?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not forever. Maybe two, three years. I’ll come back.”
I wanted to be supportive — I really did. I knew how much this meant to him. But all I could feel was fear. Fear of distance. Fear of losing him to the world he always dreamed of.
“So that’s it?” I asked softly. “You’re just... going?”
He looked at me, guilt in his eyes. “Maya-" I stopped him
"How about your parents do they know this already?"
"Maya."
"Did they agree?" he just nodded.
"Okay." no words left on my mouth.
"Maya, you know I want this. But I also want you. I just don’t know if I can have both.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You don’t trust us enough?”
“It’s not about trust. It’s about timing. Maybe... maybe we met too early.”
That broke me more than I expected.
I stood up, my chair scraping the floor. “Too early? Or are you just scared?”
He didn’t answer.
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist. “Please, don’t make this harder.”
Tears burned my eyes. “Then don’t make me feel like I’m easy to leave.”
He let go. And that was the moment I knew no matter how much love you have, sometimes it’s not enough to keep someone from chasing their dreams.
---
The night before he left, it rained hard the kind of rain that drowns the city in gray. I didn’t plan to see him, but my heart betrayed me. I found myself standing outside his boarding house, soaked and shaking.
He opened the door, surprised. “Maya?”
“I just…” My voice cracked. “I didn’t want you to go without saying goodbye.”
He looked at me — really looked. Then without a word, he pulled me into a hug.
His arms were warm, steady, everything I wanted to hold onto.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If I stay, I might regret not taking this chance. But if I go, I know I’ll regret leaving you.”
I cried quietly against his chest. “Then regret with me, Adrian. Just once.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he kissed me — slow, desperate, like he was memorizing the taste of something he might never have again.
When he finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead against mine.
“One day,” he said, “if we’re meant to find each other again, we will. No matter how long it takes.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to freeze that moment — the sound of the rain, the warmth of his lips, the promise that felt both real and impossible.
But the next morning, he was gone.
---
After Adrian left, I tried to move on. I threw myself into work, into writing, into anything that made me forget how quiet my nights had become.
But forgetting isn’t really what happens. You just learn to live with the echo — that faint sound of someone’s laughter that used to belong beside yours.
Years passed. Seasons changed. And life went on, just like it always does.
Sometimes, when it rained, I’d still find myself looking at the window, remembering how it used to feel his hand over mine, the smell of coffee, the sound of a motorbike.
They say people change. And maybe I did. I learned to smile without him. To love again, in smaller, safer ways.
But deep down, I knew… there was still a part of me that belonged to the boy who promised me forever in the middle of the rain.
And even if forever didn’t last — love, somehow, did.
- Writer
