the first time i saw you

“they say you don’t remember the day your life changes — that it just happens, quietly, and you realize it later. but i remember. it was the first week in college when i saw you. a sunny day, crowded court, new faces i don’t quite remember — because none of them were you. and then… you. you walked past me, not in slow motion, but god, it felt like it. everything slowed down, as if the moment itself wanted me to notice. the wind breezed through, almost knocking me off balance — but honestly, i was already falling. and yeah, that might sound cringe, but i swear i fell right then, so hard i forgot where i was. you were walking across the courtyard, one strap of your bag slipping off your shoulder. your hair caught the wind like it had something to say. you weren’t trying to stand out. but to me, you did. completely. i didn’t say anything, obviously. i just stood there, frozen, staring half a second too long, then looking away like a coward who knew he’d just witnessed something sacred. from that moment on, your face was the only thing i could see when i closed my eyes — and i didn’t even know your name. months passed. we ended up in the same club. fate’s weird little flex. you sat by the corner, always too early, scrolling your phone like you were waiting for something you didn’t know was coming. i sat a few rows across from you, pretending to be busy, but watching, always wondering what was on your screen, what filled your thoughts, what songs were playing in your world. then i asked, “you here for the club?” and you said yes. simple. effortless. the first words exchanged. and somehow, everything shifted. later, a mutual friend said your name — and suddenly that name had weight. it had a home. it had a place in me. and since then, your name has been with me, engraved somewhere safe, not because i couldn’t let go of it — but because i didn’t want to. because your name? it felt like home. one day, i asked if you wanted to read something. you said yes, curious, and i showed you my poems. you read them with eyes wide open, and after each one, your voice lit up with this kind of spark — like you were discovering something new in me with every line. and when i leaned in to pick the next one for you, our shoulders brushed. barely. but it was enough to send lightning down my spine. you didn’t pull away. you smiled. and you said, “how can someone write like this?” like it amazed you. like i amazed you. and i blushed. laughed a little. but inside, i was holding that moment like a candle in the dark — something soft. something warm. something that made me feel seen. we talked more after that. and it wasn’t small talk — it was the kind of talking that makes hours disappear. it felt like we were picking up from a life we’d lived before but forgot to finish. like we’d met somewhere beyond this lifetime. and now we were finding each other again, in this one. the first time we actually hung out was a random movie afternoon. just you and me, college lounge, screen flickering. you sat beside me. horror movie. bad idea. great memory. you said you weren’t scared. i believed you — until you screamed five minutes in and grabbed my hand like it was instinct. and god, you didn’t let go. and i didn’t sleep that night. not because of ghosts, but because your fingers had touched mine and left something behind — a kind of soft ache that felt more like a promise than a scar. after that, we began talking like we’d always been close. sharing stories. laughing at jokes that weren’t even funny but felt like the best thing in the world when you laughed too. i smiled when you smiled. and when you ran your fingers through your hair, it melted me, every single time. slowly, you became the one i searched for in every room — even when i told myself not to. you became the first reader of poems i didn’t post until you approved. you became the person i could be soft with. silly with. childlike, even. without shame. without fear. the one i told my secrets to, not because i had to, but because i trusted you to hold them with care. and one day, maybe, i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you that the first time i saw you, i didn’t fall in love. no. i crashed into it. headfirst. heart open. eyes wide. and i’ve been falling ever since.”