She met him on an ordinary day.
Nothing special happened. No dramatic first meeting, no magical moment—just two people standing in the same place at the same time.
But for her, something changed.
She slowly began noticing the little things about him.
the way he smiled when he was happy, the way he became quiet when something bothered him, and the way he talked about the things he loved. Without realizing it, she started looking for him everywhere.
He became the first person she wanted to tell her good news to and the person she thought about before falling asleep.
But there was one problem.
He never looked at her the way she looked at him.
She knew it.
Still, she stayed.
She never asked him to love her. She never demanded his attention. She was simply happy whenever he spoke to her, even if those conversations meant much more to her than they did to him.
One day, he told her about the person he liked.
She smiled.
She listened.
She even encouraged him.
Then she went home and cried—not because she hated him, but because she finally understood that sometimes loving someone means accepting that they may never be yours.
Years later, she still remembered him.
Not with regret.
She remembered him as the person who taught her what it felt like to love someone without expecting anything in return.
And whenever someone asked her,
“Did you ever have a first love?”
She would smile softly and say,
“Yes. But he never knew.”
