Chapter 1

The Encounter

The rain had settled into a steady rhythm against the windowpane—a relentless, patient tapping that matched the tremble in my hands. I sat alone in the dimly lit café, the fading light casting long shadows across the table. Outside, the world blurred into streaks of neon and sorrow, as if even the city knew how much weight the evening carried.

I never believed in fate. I used to scoff at the idea that the universe had plans, or that some moments were destined. But looking back now, maybe I was wrong. Because meeting you that night changed everything. It was as if the universe conspired just long enough to bring us together—only to tear me apart once it was done. A cruel joke wrapped in charm and warm smiles.

You smiled when you walked in—carefree, unaware of the storm you would unleash inside me. That smile, so effortless and full of life, haunted my dreams long after you disappeared from my reality. You didn’t just enter the room—you entered me. My thoughts, my heart, my silence.

I remember every detail: the way your eyes caught the light, how your laughter broke through the dullness of my world, the scent that lingered like a ghost when you left. Meeting you was the first mistake I didn’t see coming. And it was the last. Because you weren’t just a person—I made you a part of me. And that was my undoing.

Reflecting on our time together, it almost felt perfect—like a fairytale blurred into reality. We had the kind of moments that felt eternal in the moment: midnight conversations, the way your fingers fit perfectly into mine, the quiet understanding that didn’t need words. I thought that was enough. I thought love—raw and unfiltered—could carry us through anything. But I was naive.

Love, I’ve learned, is not always kind. It can be selfish. Consuming. A slow erosion of self disguised as devotion. I gave everything I had, hoping it would be enough. But love shouldn’t be a sacrifice of identity. And slowly, piece by piece, I started losing myself—until I couldn’t even recognize who I was without you.

There were moments when I caught glimpses of the old me—fleeting, fragile—but I pushed them aside, choosing you every time. I convinced myself that this was what love looked like: enduring, giving, staying. Even when it hurt.

It took time, distance, and more pain than I care to admit, but eventually, I saw the truth. What we had wasn’t love—it was dependency. A beautiful illusion masking quiet destruction. You didn’t save me. You made me forget how to save myself.

So now, as the rain continues to fall and the past lingers like fog on the glass, I finally understand what I couldn't admit before:

Meeting you was my biggest regret.

Not because you weren’t extraordinary. You were.

But because I stopped being me just to hold on to you.

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