The first girl I loved

I used to think love was supposed to hurt.

‎Not in the obvious way.

‎I didn't mean heartbreak or betrayal or the kind of pain people write songs about.

‎I meant the quiet kind.

‎The kind that sits underneath everything.

‎The kind that makes you wonder if you're enough.

‎The kind that makes you check your phone even though you know there isn't a message.

‎The kind that makes you notice when someone's replies get shorter and immediately wonder what you did wrong.

‎I'd become good at that kind of love.

‎At least, I thought I had.

‎I'd learned how to care without getting too attached.

‎How to pretend I didn't care when I actually cared too much.

‎How to laugh things off when they hurt.

‎And most importantly, I'd learned not to trust the word forever.

‎Because forever sounded beautiful until you realized how easily people could take it back.

‎So I made myself a promise.

‎I wasn't going to fall in love again.

‎It was easier that way.

‎At least, that's what I told myself.

‎I had school, friends, family, plans. I had enough things to worry about without adding another person to the list.

‎Then Liyaah happened.

‎And suddenly every rule I'd made for myself started feeling a lot harder to follow.

‎It wasn't dramatic.

‎There wasn't some movie moment where the whole world stopped.

‎It was just conversations.

‎A few jokes.

‎A few messages.

‎A few moments where I caught myself smiling at my phone for absolutely no reason.

‎Then I started noticing her.

‎The way she smiled.

‎The way she talked.

‎The way she remembered little things.

‎The way she noticed when I went quiet.

‎And somewhere between all those ordinary moments, I started caring.

‎Really caring.

‎That was when I knew I was in trouble.

‎Because liking someone was one thing.

‎But wanting them to stay?

‎That was something else.

‎And I had already promised myself I would never want anyone enough to be afraid of losing them again.

‎I just didn't know that sometimes promises are made before you meet the person who makes you want to break them.