We were coursemates who later found ourselves in a group of six. I would like to call myself a serious student, but she was even more serious than I was. The rest of the group members simply existed, while we did everything for them to ensure they earned their marks. We would go for group meetings, and none of the others would show up—just the two of us. We would sit, brainstorm, discuss, and solve the problems at hand. While the rest didn’t care, we did, until the care we had grew into friendship.

FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX

We would meet at the library during the day. At night, we would find a quiet classroom and sit together. At the end of the semester, we would compare our results. She was doing better than I was, but it wasn’t a competition. It was a friendship built on mutual growth and support.

During our second year, something changed in me. I don’t know what I saw in her, but suddenly, there was this unyielding crush that never left me alone. At first, I was eager to learn with her. Then it turned into, “I can’t wait to see this girl at the library.”

She would read silently to herself, while I was distracted, watching her. I would see her lips move slowly. I would watch her eyes wander into nothingness and ask myself, “What is she thinking about? Does she know that I’m in love with her?”

Some days, I wanted to tell her, but courage wouldn’t be my friend. I would rehearse the lines and plan the moment. Everything would fall into place, even the stars would align, but when the moment came for me to say something, I would tell myself, “This is not the right time.”

What I feared was rejection. What I feared most was destroying what we had. I told myself we had come too far to let lust ruin everything. I resisted the urge to say anything until one day, while lying in her bed reading, she came to lie next to me and said, “Let me see what you’re reading.”

I turned and showed her the page. We were an inch apart, our faces separated only by the book. I could smell her breath—ambrosial. At that moment, my heart started beating faster. Everything in me told me to go for it, but the little voice in my head kept ringing the rejection bell. I closed my eyes and leaned in for her lips. Guess what? She met me halfway.

It lasted only a few seconds, but it was electric. When we pulled apart, she looked away. I closed my eyes again, wondering if I had broken something. She said, “We shouldn’t be doing this. I hope you know that.”

I couldn’t say a word.

“I hope you know that,” she repeated.

I still didn’t say anything.

It was awkward navigating the new path we had carved for ourselves, but slowly, we got used to it and became inseparable until we completed school. We did it with doubt, and we loved through a series of fights, but we remained steadfast in the belief that we were meant for each other.

There are people I completed school with whom I’ve never seen again, because after school, a phase of life ends. Everyone goes their separate ways, and you’re left alone to find your path in life. Not long ago, I woke up and looked back at my wife, asking myself, “Why is this one still here? All my schoolmates left after school. They’re out there living their lives, so why is this one still stuck with me?”

We met in school, but we were meant to do life together, so we couldn’t leave each other when everyone else did. Our third child is on the way. After that kiss, I knew I had to do everything to keep her by my side, and I did just that.

Why You Should Have A Tattoo And Why You Should Probably Not Have One

Sometimes, we get tired of loving each other, so we fight. When we argue, she wins because she’s a lawyer. When I make a mistake, she treats me like her client. She takes me to her own court, pleads my case, and then forgives me. They say marriage is not a bed of roses—it’s true. But when you marry your friend, someone you started life with, you can make the bed and buy the roses, one day at a time.

—Abrefi

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at submissions@silentbeads.com. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******