It wasn’t the first time I found myself in this predicament—the girl I liked being in love with someone else. Unrequited love seemed to be my specialty, dating all the way back to my nursery days. Lisa, my first crush, was the one who started it all. From nursery through to first grade, she was the girl I wanted to marry. I was a little kid, barely able to tie my own shoelaces, yet there I was, confidently telling my mom, “Mom, can I marry Lisa when I grow up?” It was innocent, sweet, and utterly naive.

Lisa was the class monitor, a title that made her seem like royalty to my young eyes. She was charming, smart, and had a smile that could make even the most boring math lesson bearable. Every day, we’d bicker over silly things—who got the better pencil, who had more space on the bench—but deep down, I was smitten.

But life has a way of teaching you lessons early on. One day in class, our social studies teacher, in an attempt to embarrass us all, asked each student who they liked. When it was my turn, I proudly said, “I like Lisa.” My heart raced as the question moved to her. And then she said it—“I like Ben.” Ben, my best friend. The guy I shared my secrets with, the one I played with every day. She liked him. And when it was Ben’s turn, he said nothing. Not a word. I told myself it didn’t matter because Ben was a great guy. But man, did it sting. That was my first taste of unrequited love, and it sucked.

Now, years later, it was happening again. Only this time, it wasn’t Ben she liked. It was some guy whose name I didn’t even know. But the pain was just as real. Tulip, with her charming smile and playful nature, had my heart. But reality was a harsh teacher. She liked someone else, and I knew better than to let my feelings grow any deeper. If I did, the only one who’d end up hurt would be me.

But despite my efforts to distance myself, Tulip had this way of drawing me in. Her friends teased us relentlessly. One day, during a particularly boring class, they decided to play ‘wedding.’ Tulip’s friend, the self-appointed priest, asked for some water. She took a handful and splashed it on us, declaring, “Now you two are husband and wife.” If only it were that easy. If only a splash of water could make wishes come true.

Of course, the rumor mill in school was relentless. Soon, everyone who knew me knew I had a thing for Tulip. Once, during coaching class, Tulip and Rose got into a fight, and Peter, one of our classmates, smirked and said, “Go and look after your wife’s drama.” I wanted to yell, “She’s not my wife!” But instead, I just sighed and did my best to calm things down between them. It didn’t work, but at least I tried.

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Most of my days were spent hanging out with my bros, Rash and Dan. That year, we joined the school’s basketball training. Dan and I started together, but after a month, he left, and soon after, so did I. Dan was in day boardas, stuck at school from 6 AM to 5 PM. We begged him to join our coaching classes, but he already had his day boardas class .

Dan was smart—one of those kids who never studied much but still knew everything. He used to sit with Rash and me until one day, he moved seats, saying, “You guys are way too much.” And by that, he meant we were too much fun. We spent most of our time laughing, joking, and goofing around, which, to be fair, wasn’t the best environment for someone trying to focus. But even after he moved, we still found ways to chat, passing notes, exchanging glances, and occasionally throwing paper balls across the room.

Rash, on the other hand, was the wise one. When he found out about my crush on Tulip, he didn’t mince words. “You deserve someone better. You’re a diamond, don’t settle for something less,” he’d say. Back then, I was too naive to fully grasp what he meant, but I knew his heart was in the right place. Rash and Dan were both like that—good people with golden hearts, always looking out for me, always steering me away from trouble.

But no amount of wisdom from Rash or humor from Dan could change the reality of the situation. Tulip was in love with someone else, and I had to learn how to let go. It’s funny how life keeps throwing the same lessons at you until you finally get it. The thing is, I wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

So there I was, sitting in class, the pencil with “I love you” still hidden away in my bag, and Tulip’s laughter filling the room like the soundtrack to my thoughts. I wondered if I’d ever have the courage to give her that pencil. Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t. But one thing was certain—I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

But before I could make any decisions, the bell rang, jolting me back to reality. As I gathered my things, I couldn’t help but glance at Tulip one more time, wondering if she’d ever see me the way I saw her.

And then, as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, Tulip turned around, looked directly at me, and smiled. My heart skipped a beat, and for a brief moment, I wondered—was there a chance? Could she ever feel the same way?

I guess I’ll never know…

To be continued....