18/10/2025
To the One I Met in the Weirdest Way”
We met in the weirdest of circumstances — a random comment section on Facebook that somehow became the doorway to something much deeper than either of us imagined. What started as light compliment soon grew into endless conversations, laughter, and late-night chats that carried us through sleepless nights.
You became the reason I was glued to my phone — waiting for your message, smiling at your texts, and constantly checking to see if you were online. Every notification made my heart skip. Every “hi” from you felt like sunrise.
Day by day, I grew fond of you. I could spend the whole day just texting you, imagining, fantasizing, wishing you were beside me. Somehow, you became part of my routine, my peace, my excitement.
We ticked each other’s boxes without even trying. Everything aligned — effortlessly. The connection was crazy; the chemistry, boundless. Every conversation was intellectually stimulating; every compliment from you stayed replaying in my mind. I still remember the first time you heard my voice — how your reaction made me blush like a teenager in love.
From exchanging photos and videos to having fun and intimate conversations, we painted our own fairytale — one that felt too real to fade.
We became inseparable in our own way. Just like two love-struck teenagers walking each other home, never wanting to say goodbye — we did the same, only ours was over calls. Even when airtime ran out, we’d switch to chats, just to stay connected.
We talked about meeting. Planned it. Postponed it. Planned again. The anticipation grew unbearable. Three hours apart suddenly felt like a continent away. And then one morning, we just knew — it had to happen.
That day, sacrifices were made on both sides. The journey was long and tiring, but our excitement overshadowed it. I remember feeling anxious — wondering if we’d still feel the same in person. Would you like me? Would the chemistry survive reality? I asked myself a thousand questions before you arrived.
When I saw you — everything stopped. You were even more beautiful than your pictures, though they’d already left me spellbound. I was nervous, wondering if I was your type. But the moment we hugged, everything fell into place. You smiled and said I was slimmer than you expected, but perfect all the same.
The energy between us was electric — like two souls that had waited too long to collide. Compliments filled the air; laughter echoed; emotions overflowed. I watched you move around, every step, every gesture pulling me deeper in. When you undressed to shower, I caught myself staring — not out of lust, but pure admiration. You had the most beautiful body I’d ever seen, and in that moment, I knew I wanted all of you — not just physically, but wholly.
That night marked the beginning of something beautiful. Every day that followed felt like a blessing. You became my calm and my chaos. From business discussions to life decisions, you had a say in everything. I valued your thoughts; I sought your opinions. I saw you as a part of me — not just a lover, but a teammate, a confidant, a mirror.
Then came our first misunderstanding. I’ve never been one to sleep angry with my partner. I believe in quick forgiveness — because staying mad at you felt like punishing myself. I understood we were raised differently, shaped by different experiences, and that sometimes our differences would clash. But still, I chose patience.
I loved your clinginess. I loved your teases. I loved the weird names I called you — and how you answered them with laughter. You were my “blessed amazingness.” I’d secretly block you on social media just to post about you, because I didn’t want you to see how deeply I’d fallen. I didn’t want you to know how much space you occupied in my heart.
I’d reread our old chats and smile like a fool, remembering your voice, your face, your energy. You became my habit, my addiction. Sometimes I’d wake in the middle of the night just to stare at your photos — your calm face, that long nose I always teased you about. Who would believe this same angelic woman once did wild things with me — things only people in deep, reckless love could understand?
When we stepped out together, I was proud to have you beside me. I’d watch you walk, talk, laugh — and in those moments, you made the world fade away. You triggered something in me — a kind of obsession I can’t even deny. I’d have done anything for you. Anything.
I still catch myself wishing you were pregnant — not out of selfishness or wickedness, but because in my heart, I wanted a piece of us to live forever. If I were ever to have a child, I wanted it to be with you. You pushed me to become better, to think deeper, to dream bigger. The only other person who ever motivated me like that was my mother.
We made so many memories in such a short time — memories that feel like years compressed into weeks. It breaks me that I let my past trauma, my PTSD, creep in and ruin what we had. I carried wounds that should’ve healed, but instead they bled on you. I’ve apologized, owned my faults, and wished you’d find it in your heart to give us another chance.
Maybe you’ve moved on. Maybe you think we’re better apart. But deep down, I still wish we could’ve fought through that rough phase together — like partners do. Because true love doesn’t die overnight. It might fade, it might hide, but it never truly disappears — not if it was real.
And ours?
Ours was real.
No matter how far apart we drift, a part of me will always carry the echo of your laughter, the warmth of your voice, and the memory of how beautifully we began — in the weirdest of places, and in the truest of ways.
— Yours, still somewhere between the memories and the what-ifs.
Maybe love doesn’t die… maybe it just lives quietly in the spaces we once shared.”
— Billionz
