"Huh… I will never fall in love with girl!!"
Yes, that was the bold and confident statement I had once made.
"So, what's your opinion now?" my friend asked with a sly smile.
"There are plenty of boys out there. Why would you like a girl?" another chimed in, clearly amused.
"Well, I think I just followed what my heart told me," I answered casually.
But my words hit harder than I expected. Their laughter froze, their faces stunned.
"Bitch!! You actually fell in love with someone here?" my outspoken friend finally blurted.
I smiled at their half-shocked, half-confused expressions, and after a pause admitted, "Yes, I do like her… but I'm still not sure about it."
They all sighed with relief and brushed it off.
"Dear, it's just a phase of attraction. The more you see her, you'll feel something like this. Start seeing some boys."
Maybe they were right in their own way. After all, living in a girls' hostel, studying in a girls' school, what else could they expect? In their opinion, I wasn't exposed to the "real" world.
Sometimes, I do feel guilty. But guilty for what? For loving her? For not being true to myself? For not choosing what everyone else thought I should?
Yes, I know it might sound selfish. Ready to give her my heart, my soul, my everything but there's something I fear to give—commitment.
I admit it: I proposed to her many times, but deep inside, I always knew she wouldn't accept it. And maybe…I wasn't ready to hear a "yes." For once we can understand the coldest hearts, but when it comes to our own, it's the hardest to read—so close, yet the most distant.
If I'm being honest, I wonder sometimes: if her answer back then had been "yes," what would I have done? Would I have been happy? Excited? Or terrified?
The truth is, when I confessed, I did it with more enthusiasm than readiness. Deep down, I knew the answer would be no.
Still…Just being friends with her for almost two years was enough for me to know why my heart chose her. She was special. The type of girl you imagine as the main character of a Netflix show—everyone wants her, but she doesn't need any of them.
And maybe… she doesn't need me either.
Bringing myself out of my thoughts, I found myself back in the room with my friends, all of us talking about random things.
"I don't think falling in love with someone here is worth it. Relationships here are just out of timepass," my smart-ass friend, declared.
"But you haven't told us her name yet. I want to know who she is," another friend said, eyes narrowing with interest.
"Yes, yes, I wanna know as well," one more added eagerly.
"Spill the name out quickly," my outspoken one demanded, eyes full of determination.
They ignored everything else I said. Clearly, the only thing that mattered now was the name.
"Don't you think everyone here cares more about the name than the story?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood. But their stares didn't soften. They wanted to know who was that person....
"Okay, okay, spill it out. Who is she?" my friend T finally spoke for everyone.
I lowered my voice, glancing at the doors and walls as though they could betray me.
"She's our senior. Quiet famous that everyone knows about her."
For a moment, silence. Then confusion.
"Who? Which one are you talking about?"
They looked at each other, as if trying to confirm their guesses. Maybe I had made a mistake by saying this much. Or maybe… they simply didn't want it to be true. After all, most people only whispered bad things about her.
I could see it in their eyes—confusion, shock, maybe even pity. But beneath all that, I felt the weight of my own truth pressing down on me.
Even if the whole world stood against me, my heart had already chosen her.