THE GIRL WHO LOVED AFTER LOSING

The air was thick with worship and dust — the kind that hangs in the atmosphere of youth camps, where faith, sweat, and hope collide. I didn’t go expecting anything more than fellowship and maybe a few quiet prayers answered. But then I saw him. I tapped my friend. “See that fine boy?” I whispered with a smirk, not even expecting anything. I was simply admiring from a distance, like we do with stars — beautiful, unreachable. Except he wasn’t unreachable. Moments later, like the universe had heard my thoughts and decided to play matchmaker, he walked straight up to me. “Hi… I’d really like to talk to you,” he said. I froze. Was I dreaming? I looked back at my friend, stunned. My heart didn’t just skip — it leapt. He was the same boy I had just whispered about. How could this be happening? He had this calmness in his voice, a confidence that wasn’t arrogant, but warm — like he already knew I’d say yes. He told me his name. I said mine. We shook hands. And somehow, our hearts did too. He was stationed at another auditorium far away, yet he came back across the camp just to see me again that night. That walk — that simple decision — it changed everything. That was the first of many choices he made that made me feel chosen. We talked like we had known each other for years. Laughed like we’d shared inside jokes for decades. There was no awkward silence, only ease. Only us. That night when I was travelling back home, he didn’t stop calling. He checked in, again and again, until I was safe. And then again, just to say he missed me already. That was our beginning. There were no games. No hesitation. Just a connection so instant, so mutual, that it felt like fate. He wasn’t just a boy I met at camp. He became my safe place. The warmth I didn’t know I needed. The story I never knew I’d one day have to write with trembling hands and tear-stained keys. But before all that, there was this — A beginning so soft, even the stars must’ve paused to