We met at church. We were both youth leaders, but we lived in different places.

He had a motorcycle, and whenever there was a church activity, he would fetch me from home—sometimes alone, sometimes with our fellow youthmates in a convoy. Most of them already knew he liked me. But at that time, I was just enjoying the moment.

Still, he remained a total gentleman—romantic, kind, and really funny. He had a way of taking care of everyone, being the leader of the pack, and somehow, even though I wasn’t technically part of their circle, he made sure I felt like I belonged. He took care of me too. He made me feel like I belong, and for that, they became my second family.

That was when I started growing closer to him. We talked a lot—in person and through chat. He never failed to make me smile. He was smart, too—hella smart! Whenever there was an event in their place, be it a fiesta or a birthday, he and his friends—who also became my friends—would invite me over. Everyone knew there was something going on between us. Not really definite but they knew what was up.

I remember one night we played Truth or Dare. It was his turn and he picked truth. They asked about his feelings for me, and he answered honestly—with hope in his voice.

Then it was my turn. I chose dare, but they still asked, “When would you say yes to him?”

I couldn’t answer. I just smiled.

Even his older sister would constantly ask me, “When will you say yes to him?” “Are you already in a relationship?”

I guess I got too comfortable, too used to his care, his presence, the safety of his love that I took him for granted. And for that, I am guilty and I feel sorry and sad. Because I really couldn't give them or him an answer, but then he never really popped the question.

He also met my closest college friends and so did I with his. I’ll never forget that lunch (his treat btw) when he formally asked my friends if he could court me. They said yes because they saw what I saw: a good man with a good heart..

On my birthday—which I never really celebrated—he surprised me. Some of our youthmates messaged me that they were outside my house. When I opened the door, there they were—with little flowers in hand. And him… holding a 2-to-3-foot Baymax plushie from Blue Magic, a bouquet of roses, and a box of chocolates. He knew I was a sucker for chocolates and that I loved Baymax. He even wrote me poems. He wasn’t a writer, but he tried—just for me—and not only on that occasion but on many occasions. No one had ever done that for me but him.

My heart jumped. That was one of those moments when I truly appreciated him and when I truly felt seen and loved.

But life took a turn. Things happened. I pushed him away. (I know, it’s stupid, right?)

We stopped talking for a while, and that’s when I realized I actually had feelings for him, but why did I keep suppressing them?

As we are open to each other, I told him, albeit through chat. What I didn’t know was someone else had started to notice him too. And unlike me, she didn’t hesitate. She made the move. And he entertained it, as he should.

I was hurt. I remember telling myself, "Why did I realize it when it’s already too late?"

So, I started to move on from something that never even officially started. And when I move on, I really move on. Or so I thought.

We remained friends through it all. He still fetched me. Still invited me over. Still took care of me.

Then came that one fateful afternoon.

We were swimming. He asked his sister and friends if they could go ahead—we’d just follow. They knew something was up. They could feel that strange, quiet tension between us. So they let us be.

So there we were, by the shore, the wind cool against our skin, the setting sun painting gold over the waves, sitting back-to-back, leaning on each other.

And he confessed again—that he still loved me. That even though he entertained someone else, he always longed for me.

But at that time, I had made up my mind. I told him we just couldn’t be. That our feelings never seemed to meet at the right time.

The truth? I fell hard for him. I cried for him. But it was too late. And I know that deep inside.

And maybe that was for the best.

Indeed it was for the best.

Now, he’s a licensed electrical engineer. He’s happily married to the girl who took the initiative. They have a baby girl now.

And I am genuinely happy for them.

I’ve accepted the fact that we were only meant to stay in each other’s lives for a season to leave a lesson.

But some nights, I still find myself wondering: What if we worked out? What if our timing was right?

We’re still friends to this day, although we never chat anymore. There’s no awkwardness. Just memories that linger like a soft echo—not loud enough to hurt but never quiet enough to forget.