This story captures the longing, admiration, and bittersweet ache of someone so “high above” that all you can do is silently adore them. It blends romantic tension, reflection, and quiet heartbreak.
They say some stars are too bright to touch. Some dreams too grand to chase. And some people… some people exist in such heights that all you can do is look up and wonder.
For Mia, Adrian was that star. A man so brilliant, so effortlessly captivating, that everyone noticed him the moment he entered a room. He had charm that didn’t need effort, intelligence that seemed to make life bend around him, and a confidence that made ordinary mortals like her feel invisible. And yet, for Mia, Adrian wasn’t just impressive—he was impossible.
She first met him at a company event, the kind filled with clinking glasses, polished floors, and suits that smelled of ambition. Adrian was across the room, laughing with a group of colleagues, his presence commanding the air itself. Mia watched, heart caught in her throat, feeling the peculiar pull of fascination she couldn’t explain. He was a fish upon the sky beautiful, untouchable, distant.
Throughout the months, their paths occasionally crossed. A meeting. A project collaboration. A fleeting conversation over coffee. Each time, her pulse quickened. She wanted to speak to him, to laugh with him, to be noticed. But something about him his aura, his confidence, his inaccessibility made her feel small, almost invisible. She would leave those encounters with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, her admiration heavy with frustration.
Mia’s friends didn’t understand. “He’s just a person,” they would say, “you’re overthinking it.” But to her, Adrian wasn’t “just a person.” He was a force of nature. Someone who could light up the room without trying. Someone whose laughter made her forget to breathe. And someone who could never, in all likelihood, belong in her ordinary world.
She tried to ignore him, tried to focus on her own ambitions, her own life. But every project, every success, every quiet moment of reflection seemed to echo with him. Sometimes she imagined him noticing her, smiling at her, asking about her day. And in those dreams, fleeting and fragile, her heart soared… only to fall again when reality reminded her of the unbridgeable distance.
There were moments that stung the most. Seeing him help a colleague, effortlessly solving problems, drawing admiration from everyone around him. She wanted to speak, to be part of his orbit, but the words never came. Her courage, always dormant, froze in his presence. Mia realized that love sometimes wasn’t about possession. Sometimes, it was about reverence. Sometimes, it was about watching from afar and quietly wishing well.
One rainy evening, the office cleared early. Mia stayed behind, completing reports. Through the window, she saw Adrian walking along the wet streets, umbrella in hand, the glow of streetlights reflecting on the puddles beneath him. She imagined following him, speaking to him, sharing a laugh. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. He was a fish upon the sky, untouchable, brilliant, and forever beyond her reach.
Instead, she smiled softly, her heart aching in that familiar way. She admired him silently, letting the distance be their boundary. In that quiet adoration, she found a strange kind of peace. There was no heartbreak yet, only longing, only awe.
Sometimes, Mia wrote little notes in her journal not meant for anyone to read about the moments she had glimpsed him, the way he smiled, the way he carried himself. She described the beauty of his presence, the warmth in his voice, the effortless way he inspired everyone around him. Her words became her refuge, a way to honor the impossible feelings she carried.
And yet, life is unpredictable. One day, Adrian approached her. Not for work, not for any grand reason, but with a simple smile that made her chest tighten. “Mia,” he said, his voice casual yet intimate, “can I ask you something?”
Her heart raced. She nodded, words lodged in her throat.
“I’ve noticed you,” he continued, eyes earnest. “You’re quiet, but… I’ve seen the way you work, the way you care. I wanted to know if you’d like to have coffee sometime, just the two of us.”
Time froze. Mia blinked, unsure if she was dreaming. The fish had descended from the sky, coming close enough that she could breathe the same air. But the feeling of impossibility didn’t vanish entirely—it lingered in the edges of her mind. Was it real? Could someone like him really notice someone like her?
“I… I’d love that,” she finally said, voice trembling.
Their coffee meeting was ordinary in many ways, yet extraordinary in its intimacy. They laughed over small things, shared opinions about books and music, and for a fleeting moment, the distance seemed to shrink. Mia felt the strange thrill of the impossible becoming possible, of a dream touching reality.
Yet, even then, she knew the truth of her heart. Adrian’s life was vast, full of opportunities, expectations, and ambitions that were far beyond her own. She could admire, she could cherish, she could share moments but the full depth of closeness might always be limited by circumstances, by reality. The fish could swim close, yes but he belonged to the sky, to a world where ordinary hands could never reach.
As the months went by, Mia learned to balance admiration with acceptance. She realized that love wasn’t always about possession or closeness. Sometimes, it was about witnessing greatness, about celebrating someone from a distance, and about learning from their presence without needing to claim it.
Adrian remained luminous, bright, and sometimes painfully unattainable. And Mia, while longing persisted, found a quiet strength in her ability to love without expectation. She discovered that beauty existed even in impossibility, that the ache of admiration was not weakness, but a testament to her capacity to feel deeply.
Sometimes, on rainy evenings, Mia would look at the city skyline, imagining Adrian moving among its lights. She would smile, letting herself feel the joy and pain of that quiet love. For some people are stars meant to guide us, not to hold. And some love is meant to inspire, not to possess.
Mia finally understood: a fish upon the sky cannot be caught. It can only be admired, cherished, and respected from afar. And in that admiration, in that bittersweet distance, there is a love that is pure, unwavering, and unforgettable.
