The Heart That Still Believes

The last thing I wanted on a Monday morning was a conversation about love..

Unfortunately, Josie had other plans.

“So,” she said, walking beside me across campus, “how long are you planning to stay single?”

I stopped.

She stopped too.

I stared at her.

“Good morning to you too.”

She laughed. “Good morning.”

“You couldn't ask me how my weekend was?”

“I already know how your weekend was.”

“How?”

“You stayed in your room, watched movies, ate snacks, and pretended you were too busy to answer my calls.”

I frowned.

“That is a very unfair description.”

“Which part is wrong?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Josie smiled triumphantly.

“Exactly.”

I shook my head and continued walking.

“I'm not interested in dating right now.”

“You've been saying that for almost two years.”

“And?”

“And it's getting suspicious.”

I laughed.

“Josie, I'm twenty-six, not sixty.”

“Then behave like you're twenty-six.”

“I am behaving like I'm twenty-six.”

“No. You're behaving like someone's forty-year-old auntie who has decided love is a scam.”

I burst out laughing.

“Please leave me alone.”

“Never.”

That was Josie.

If I wanted peace, she was the last person I should have become friends with.

But she was also the person I trusted most.

---

University life had taught me many things.

How to survive on little sleep.

How to stretch money until it started begging for mercy.

How to attend a lecture while secretly calculating how many assignments were still waiting for me.

And, most importantly, how to look perfectly fine when I was anything but.

I was a student, but I also worked.

It wasn't glamorous.

Some days, I went from lectures straight to work.

Other days, I returned home so tired that opening my textbook felt like an act of courage.

Still, I didn't complain too much.

I knew why I was doing it.

I wanted a better life.

I wanted to finish school.

I wanted to be independent.

And I wanted to prove to myself that I could build something with my own hands.

That morning, I had barely settled into my seat before my phone vibrated.

Josie: Did you submit the assignment?

I looked at her.

She was sitting two seats away.

I typed:

Me: Why are you texting me when you're literally looking at me?

She looked at her phone and smiled.

Josie: Because I don't want the lecturer to hear our conversation.

I rolled my eyes.

Me: Yes, I submitted it.

She replied:

Josie: Good. I almost forgot.

I stared at her.

Then I typed:

Me: You were supposed to remind ME.

She covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

I laughed too.

Our lecturer looked up.

“Is there something funny?”

We immediately became serious.

“No, sir.”

“Good.”

He turned back to the board.

Josie leaned toward me.

“You're a bad influence.”

I whispered, “You started it.”

She smiled.

And just like that, the morning became a little easier.

---

By the time my lecture ended, I was exhausted.

I packed my books and checked the time.

I had work in less than an hour.

Josie followed me outside.

“You're coming to the café after work, right?”

“I'll see.”

She stopped walking.

“No.”

I looked at her.

“What?”

“You always say 'I'll see' when you want to cancel.”

“I genuinely don't know what time I'll finish.”

“Then call me.”

“I will.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

We hugged briefly before going our separate ways.

I watched her walk away.

She turned around and shouted, “And don't fall in love before I see you tomorrow!”

I laughed.

“I'm not going to!”

She waved and disappeared into the crowd.

I shook my head.

Love.

The word alone made something inside me uncomfortable.

Once, I had believed in it completely.

I had believed that if two people loved each other, they would communicate.

They would trust each other.

They would tell the truth.

I had believed that love meant safety.

Then I learned that love without trust could become exhausting.

And silence could hurt more than an argument.

My last relationship hadn't ended because we stopped caring.

It ended because we stopped understanding each other.

Conversations became arguments.

Questions became accusations.

Promises became things neither of us could keep.

Eventually, I stopped recognizing the person I had become.

So I walked away.

Since then, I had been careful.

Maybe too careful.

But I was okay.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

---

I arrived at work just before two.

The afternoon passed quickly.

Emails.

Files.

Phone calls.

A stubborn printer that seemed personally offended by my existence.

By the time I left, I was exhausted.

I stepped outside and stretched.

“Finally.”

The evening air felt cooler.

I reached for my phone.

Three missed calls from Josie.

I sighed.

Before I could call her back, someone suddenly stepped backward in front of me.

I nearly walked into him.

“Sorry!”

He turned around.

I stopped.

A camera hung around his neck.

He looked at me for a second, then glanced at the folder in my hands.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

I looked down.

One of my papers had fallen.

He bent down and picked it up before I could.

“Here.”

“Thank you.”

He handed it to me.

Then his eyes moved to the folder.

“Law?”

I smiled faintly.

“Something like that.”

He smiled.

“Something like that?”

“It's a long story.”

“I have time.”

I laughed.

“You're very confident.”

“Not confident.”

He adjusted the camera hanging from his neck.

“Curious.”

I looked at him properly for the first time.

There was something calm about him.

Not the kind of calm that felt cold.

The kind that made you wonder what he was thinking.

“I'm Ryan,” he said.

“Eliana.”

He smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Eliana.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

My phone rang.

Josie.

I answered immediately.

“Where are you?”

“At work.”

“You said you were leaving!”

“I just left.”

“Good. Come to the café.”

I glanced at Ryan.

He had already stepped aside.

“Okay. I'm coming.”

I ended the call.

When I looked back, Ryan was lifting his camera.

He took a photograph of the street.

Then another.

I smiled.

“Photographer?”

He lowered the camera.

“Trying to be.”

“Trying?”

“I'm building my career.”

I nodded.

“Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

I started walking away.

After a few steps, I heard him call my name.

“Eliana.”

I turned.

He smiled.

“Don't work too hard.”

I laughed.

“I'll try.”

Then I walked away.

I didn't think much about the stranger with the camera.

Not then.

I didn't know his story.

He didn't know mine.

And neither of us knew that somewhere between university lectures, long workdays, laughter, heartbreak, and unexpected conversations, our lives were about to become connected.

I wasn't looking for love.

My heart wasn't ready for it.

But sometimes, the heart believes in something long before the mind is willing to admit it.