Chapter One — Before I Knew His Name
I still remember the morning I received his first message.
Not because I knew it would change my life.
I didn't.
I had an exam that morning, and I was already running late.
I picked up my phone quickly before leaving, expecting nothing special.
Then I saw his message.
I read it once.
Then again.
«“The only thing I am sure of right now is the fact that you are the mother of my kids.”»
I froze for a second.
Excuse me?
Before I could even process it, another message appeared.
«“What do you want to know about your future husband?”»
I stared at my screen.
My immediate thought was:
Red flag.
Who even says that to someone they barely know?
I almost laughed.
But I didn't have time to investigate the strange boy behind the messages.
I was late.
So I locked my phone, put it away, and rushed out to my exam.
That was how it started.
Not with fireworks.
Not with some romantic moment.
Just a late girl, an exam, and a boy from the other side of the world who had apparently already decided I was going to be the mother of his children.
At the time, I didn't even know his name.
I didn't know where exactly he lived.
I didn't know how old he was.
And I certainly didn't know how important he would become.
He was just a stranger.
A strange, overly confident stranger.
But after that morning, we started talking.
Little by little, the stranger became familiar.
He made me laugh.
And somehow, talking to him felt easier than talking to people I had known for years.
I had always been drawn to people from other countries.
Maybe because I loved speaking English.
Maybe because I liked the feeling of discovering someone from a completely different world.
Or maybe I simply liked the idea of distance.
But he was different.
He wasn't just someone from another country anymore.
He was someone I actually wanted to know.
I was shy, though.
I wasn't the kind of girl who could effortlessly start conversations with someone she barely knew.
Sometimes I had no idea what to say.
Sometimes I would stare at the chat, thinking of a topic.
But I tried.
For him, I tried.
And slowly, without noticing, I began telling him things about myself.
My family.
My life.
My fears.
Things I didn't usually share.
I was becoming an open book.
And he was reading every page.
I didn't know it yet, but that was the beginning.
The beginning of my first love.
The beginning of a story that would eventually make one city mean something entirely different to me.
Adelaide.
