Lilian wasn't the first woman who meant something to me. But she was the one who cut the deepest-so deep that even now, I sometimes wonder if I'll ever stop bleeding inside.
Before her, there was Keisha. Fun, wild, hard to forget. We met during the carnival—music, dancing, drinks, and late nights that blurred into the morning. With her, everything felt exciting. She never asked questions, never planned.
She didn't just live in the moment; she was the moment. With her, every night bled into the next—dancing until the sun embarrassed us with its rise, chasing thrills like kids who thought tomorrow was a myth.
She lived in the moment, and back then, so did I. But it didn't last. We burned fast and bright... and faded just as quickly.
Then came Marissa. The opposite of everything Keisha was. Quiet. Gentle. The kind of woman who found poetry in the sound of rain tapping against her window. I'd watch her read for hours, her face calm, her world unshaken by noise. With her, silence wasn't awkward; it was sacred. Just sitting near her felt like peace—a peace I didn't know I needed.
But I think my life overwhelmed her—too busy, too loud. I couldn't slow down, and she couldn't speed up. We drifted apart.
After Lilian, I didn't really try anymore.
There were other women, sure. Smiles across bars, connections made at conferences, fleeting touches on flights to nowhere. They wanted something real, but I was no longer capable. I gave them charm, small talk, a paid dinner bill, maybe a kiss under dim lights. But my heart? Locked up. My soul? Barricaded.
That's the irony, isn't it? Once you've known real love—and worse, once you've lost it—every other connection feels counterfeit. And yet, the world doesn't stop for your grief. You're expected to keep moving, keep working, keep showing up like heartbreak isn't slowly chewing you from the inside out.
But today… something shifted.
It was small, almost nothing, but it mattered. I saw Camila again. Just for a moment. Not love—at least not yet. But a spark. A reminder that maybe, just maybe, I could feel again.
As I kept driving, the city seemed to blur past me—familiar streets, nameless faces, all moving in slow motion, like the world hadn't noticed my chest was still tightening from that brief encounter.
It's strange, isn't it? How someone can become a memory and still carry so much power. Lilian had that effect. I still remember the way she used to laugh—soft, unforced, like music that made the world less heavy. She had a way of making chaos feel like calm.
But all that sweetness came with silence—long nights of waiting, unanswered texts, distance that grew like cracks in a wall.
Sometimes I wonder if she truly understood the pressure I was under. If she ever saw the sleepless nights, the hustling, the sacrifices behind the scenes. I wasn't partying or chasing shadows—I was working. Working so she'd never have to settle for less.
But love, I've come to learn, isn't just about provision. It's about presence. And maybe that's where I failed her—being there.
Still, the breakup felt more like betrayal than heartbreak. Like I was being punished for being responsible. Like my sacrifices didn't count because they weren't wrapped in flowers or sweet texts at midnight. She left without warning, without a fight, like love was disposable. Like I was.
A horn blared behind me, snapping me back.
"Focus, man," I muttered under my breath.
The GPS blinked—destination less than a minute away. I pulled into the building complex where the client was waiting, a neatly dressed woman checking her watch by the fountain. Her professionalism was sharp, but her expression was calm.
I parked, grabbed my tablet, and glanced into the rearview mirror one last time—not at my reflection, but at the mental baggage I'd been dragging around all morning.
It ends here. At least for today.
I stepped out of the car, straightened my shirt, and put on my business face. The weight of Lilian's memory would have to wait. Reality was calling, and this client didn't care about heartbreaks or lost loves. She cared about results.
"Good afternoon," I said, walking up with a composed smile.
"Right on time," she replied. Standing by her side was someone I presumed was her man, judging by some PDA
And just like that, I let the past slip behind me—like vapour in the rearview—while the present stood firm before me, waiting to be handled.
As I loaded their luggage into the trunk, I caught a scent—not perfume, but affection. The real kind. No plastic PDA. Yeah, I notice things like that. Sharp eye, they say. Though, honestly, that same sharpness failed me in my last relationship. Some kind of emotional amnesia, maybe.
This could've been us, Lilian. But you took the broad road, wide and loud. I chose the narrow one—quiet, steep, and maybe leading to heaven. I won't lie, I wish I was the man in love today. But for now, I've got a job to do—get them to their destination in one piece.
Still, like a baby with a soggy diaper, I squirmed—not because of the couple in front of me, but because of the gnawing thought that Camila might actually be the one. And if I don't make a move now, I might lose her forever.
Call it bold. Call it foolish. But I know what I want. Trying again isn't a crime—it's hope dressed as courage. Maybe this time, I'll get it right.
"All set," I said, sliding into the driver's seat and clicking my seatbelt. "Tulip Apartments?"
The lady nodded, eyes smiling. Weekend getaway, I assumed.
"It's a 45-minute drive from here," I said with the practised tone of a budget airline pilot. "Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."
"Oh, we will," the man replied, already leaning into comfort.
The AC hummed, soft music filled the cabin, and a few snacks waited in the console storage. That's my thing—keep the ride smooth, the vibe mellow, the passengers at ease.
That's how much I love this job. My car's not just transport—it's a little sanctuary on wheels.
Hey babe!
We're on our way to the apartment now—I just wanted to keep you in the loop. We Should be there in about 5 minutes, though I know work's got you running late . I'll go ahead and set up your room too! I picked up some wears for you, not sure if you chose nice stuffs before heading to work. Make sure to come directly after work; you don't need to get changed, you have everything at your beck and call.
I've been hearing great things about this Airbnb—super cozy, perfect for a weekend escape. They've literally thought of everything! I can feel it... this weekend's gonna be a whole vibe. Total reset mode. Don't leave me hanging—reply to my voice note when you can. Can't wait to see your gorgeous face soon, my love!
She probably sent that VN to her friend. Hmm, looks like this weekend's about to be lit for the lovebirds and their third wheel—who might not be so third after all. Maybe she's bringing her boo too.
The man gave a quiet laugh at something she whispered, his hand finding hers with the kind of familiarity that doesn't need asking. She tilted her head slightly toward him, resting it against his shoulder for just a second—long enough to say this is home.
It wasn't showy or exaggerated, just a flow of gestures that belonged to them alone: the soft squeeze of fingers, the way their smiles lingered longer when they looked at each other.
And me? Half-single giggles... but something tells me Camila's about to change that.
Or maybe not. Maybe I should just stay in my solo lane.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I let a quiet satisfaction slip in. For now, being the observer was enough.
For now, it was enough to witness love in simple gestures, to carry it in the backseat, and to leave it outside the walls of my own guarded heart.
Their weekend's about to dance to their rhythm... while mine? Well, mine's still trying to find the beat in a dark, silent room...