What we could have been
It happened like in a movie. We touched hands and helped her carry the clothes, then I got her number. Thatās how it all started. Our attraction was so intentional. She was crossing boundaries just to be with me and to see me sometimes. I was so in love, and she was in love too.
Iām the type of guy whoās obsessed with staying in his room, but she made me touch grass. I was moving around her neighborhood just to see her. Unfortunately, I stopped seeing her. Maybe she got grounded, maybe she got busy.
Later she told me she couldnāt keep coming to my place and that I needed to start visiting her instead. Me, visiting her? That was a problem. The condition was that I had to be there as her friend while her parents listened to our conversations. Donāt get me wrong, of course I could do that. But what I couldnāt do was hold myself back from flirting with her and expressing the love I had for her in front of her parents. So I kept declining the offer.
Weeks later we kept texting, telling each other stories, our fantasies, our future. Funny thing ā she wanted to have five kids, and I loved that idea. I could vividly see our future together, and I loved it. Iāve always wanted a childfree future, but with her I could see myself traditionally, happily married. Tikukhala somewhere far, chaku NRC kumadimba
As weeks passed, we started to fall apart because I wanted her at my place and she wanted me at hers. One time she even told me, ā__, I can be sneaky and come kwanuko, but what if my parents find out Iām not in my room and search kwanuko?ā I love that sentence. But I went point-blank. Wait ā did I tell you her dad has a gun? That part scares me. She wasnāt the one who told me about the gun. Her father did, and I did my research and found out it was true. So I canāt mess with a man with ammunition.
Back to the story: the words she said were sweet, and at the time they got my heart pumping like I was sprinting. More days passed, and she started resenting me. I tried to soothe the situation by apologizing over and over. But guess what? She wrote to me, mentioning my name again: ā___, I am trying.ā Meaning she was trying hard to make it work. But... thereās always a ābut.ā The ābutā never followed. It just ended like that.
I kept pushing, thinking maybe we were going to work something out. Little did I know that was her way of closing our unsailed ship. It took me time to realize we were no longer going to sail.
Cutting the story short, I occasionally see her. And every time I see her, I always think of what we could have been. But somehow we have to move on. Maybe in the next life weāll be together. And in this life? Maybe itāll always be what we could have been.
Anyway, I just texted her 'cause I miss her, I hope she replies.