Isolated

My dream had always been to attend Boston University. When I received that acceptance letter, it was the happiest moment of my life. I felt as if a new door was opening before me, and that the universe was finally listening.

I ran with pure excitement, clutching the paper tightly in my hand as I searched for my father. In the distance, I saw him by the lighthouse, silhouetted against the sea. I will never forget his expression; it was a display of the purest love.

Even though his heart felt an instant emptiness knowing I would no longer be with him, he didn't hesitate for a second to share my great joy. It had always been just him and me against the world in Tybee Island, our small coastal town. I was born amidst the crashing of the waves and those beautiful sunsets we enjoyed together ever since Mom died.

As I packed my bags, I wasn't just carrying my belongings; I was packing all my hopes for a new beginning. Although my dad isn't a man of technology, I promised to write him a physical letter whenever I could. It might seem archaic these days, but those are the things you can cherish and read whenever loneliness begins to suffocate you.

The journey was strange, to say the least. I knew nothing of the world outside my island, and seeing pictures on the internet is nothing compared to standing in front of those massive buildings. Seeing a real city for the first time was breathtaking. Boston had become a dream for me because I had saved my entire life to experience this moment. Even though it wasn't my house, it felt like home.

During the entire taxi ride, I pressed my face against the window, hypnotized by the architecture blending with nature. When I finally arrived at the university, the impression was overwhelming; it was far more than I could have ever dreamed. I felt the cold embrace me as I tilted my head back, mouth agape, trying to process the sheer scale of my new world.

However, as the days blurred into my new life, a deep melancholy for home and everything I left behind began to seep into my bones. Sometimes, it was hard to return to the dorm and not find my father waiting with open arms to hear about my entire day.

That night, nostalgia wrapped around my soul so tightly that I needed to go out to distract myself. I grabbed my coat, leaving behind an unfinished letter to my father that my own tears were ruining. As I walked beneath that suffocating cold, the moon looked terribly grey.

I entered the library looking for the loneliest spot in the building, and I found the perfect corner. I began to walk down the aisles, grazing the spines of the books with my fingertips, searching for the perfect refuge to escape the grey cloud looming over my mind.

In that moment, my eyes caught The Little Prince. I knew reading it would be a direct punch to my soul, but I felt an overwhelming urge to pick it up. I couldn't help but remember those playful nights when I would sit on my father's lap to read it together, while Mom watched us from the doorway with a wide smile. I held it and stared at it for a moment, losing myself in the memories.

I went to sit in my chosen corner; though the silence there was dense, it was much better than being alone in my room. At least there, if I looked around, I could see other people who perhaps felt just as lonely as I did, far away from home.

As I read, lost in my melancholy, someone shattered my bubble of thoughts with the sharp thud of a coffee mug being placed on the table.

I slowly lifted my gaze. In front of me stood a guy who caused a small jolt in my chest the moment our eyes met.

With a smile, he asked, "Are you new around here?"

The question caught me off guard. I raised my eyes from the book slowly and met a pair of eyes looking at me with shyness. He had a smile so tender—one of those that light up a face effortlessly—that my stomach did a flip.

Nerves betrayed me, and I snapped my gaze back down to the pages of The Little Prince. "Y-yes..." I stammered, cursing myself internally.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a second to regain my composure, and looked back at him. "Sorry. I'm Grace. I just... you startled me. You came out of nowhere."

He let out a soft laugh, ducking his head toward the floor in an almost boyish gesture, before locking his eyes onto mine again. The warmth of his energy seemed to banish the library's chill in an instant.

"Don't worry. I'm the one to blame for slipping in like a ghost," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Peter. Nice to meet you, Grace. Sorry for the scare, it's just that I've never seen you around campus and you looked a bit... lost. I thought you could use a hot coffee to survive the Boston winter." He slid the wooden mug across the table.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped us, and for the first time in weeks, I felt the grey cloud over my head begin to shift.

That coffee turned into a hours-long conversation; the kind where time slips away between laughter and shared anecdotes.

When the library closed, Peter offered to walk me back to my dorm. The walk was filled with timid silences. Looking at him under the grey moonlight, his smile seemed even more charming, and I could swear he was looking for any excuse to walk a little closer to me, shielding me from the cold.

Upon reaching the door, I leaned into a quick goodbye embrace. As I turned to go inside, he took a step forward. "Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked. My heart skipped a beat. Shyly, I agreed to meet him outside the campus coffee shop.

I never could have imagined it, but from that moment on, Peter became my anchor.

The loneliness that used to suffocate me away from home simply evaporated. Together, we survived the Boston winters, final exams, and every milestone. I discovered that he also came from a small place, far from the big city. I confessed to him the fear left behind by my mother's death when I was a child; I told him about my deep desire to build a family and find a husband who would love me just as much as my father had. Peter listened to every single one of my insecurities and promised to hold my hand through every storm.

Destiny had brought us together in that library, and the years passed like a breath until the day of our graduation.

That night, nerves were gnawing at my stomach. What would happen to us now? Although we had talked about a future together, the moment of truth had arrived.

Then, I received a text from him, asking me to meet him at the exact same library where it all began. Thinking it was just a bout of graduation nostalgia, I walked toward our usual corner.

There he was, waiting for me in the silence of the room, holding a copy of The Little Prince in his hands. I sat across from him. He was staring at me with a strange intensity, a mixture of tenderness and absolute panic.

"What's wrong, dummy? Why the face?" I said with a laugh, expecting one of his usual jokes.

He swallowed hard and slid the book toward me. "Please, open the book. Look inside."

With trembling hands, I opened the yellowed pages. Right in the middle, a bookmark made of white cardstock stood out. It bore his firm, clean handwriting. I flipped it over and read the words: Will you marry me?

The world stopped. I couldn't scream, I couldn't breathe. I covered my face with my hands as silent tears dampened my cheeks.

"Yes... yes, I do," I whispered.

Through my blurred fingers, I saw Peter slide from his chair until he was on his knees in front of me, reaching for my hand to slip the ring onto my finger. In that instant, surrounded by the smell of old paper and the warmth of his hands, I believed I had touched heaven.

I had no idea I was about to descend into hell itself.