An Open Letter to My First Love

I truly saw Clara for the first time across a library table. It was dusty. She leaned over a big art history book. A strand of honey-colored hair fell on her face. I hid behind a Dune book. I pretended to read. But I just felt her quiet presence nearby.

It was not a sudden shock. No bright flash hit me. It felt more like a picture slowly appearing. It made the world look clear and bright. Her fingers, lightly smudged with charcoal, traced lines in the book. Her eyes met mine when she looked up. They were deep green, like wet moss, and very bright.

"Lost?" she whispered. A small, knowing smile played on her lips.

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My throat felt rough all at once. "Just... thinking about everything."

She laughed. It was a soft, nice sound. It made the library feel less dull. "Looks more like you're thinking about the ceiling tiles, Leo."

That was it. That was the start.

The library became our spot after that. We did not talk much at first. We just knew things without words. I would nod when I found her book. We shared quiet smiles when Mrs. Henderson shushed someone loudly. Then we began to talk. Our talks started with school topics. They quickly went to anything else. Our favorite bands, our weird families, our big dreams. A future felt far away yet excitingly close.

With Clara, every everyday thing felt new. The school hallway usually rushed with people. Now it was a path to our next shared glance. Our quiet times were not empty. They felt full of what might happen. It was like holding breath right before you jump. My heart had beaten a steady rhythm for seventeen years. Now it had a fast, hopeful beat when she was near.

One afternoon, we went to the old park behind the school. We did not go to the library. The sun was setting. It painted the sky in bright oranges and soft purples. We sat on a swing set. We kicked gently at the ground. The chains made a sleepy creaking sound.

"I feel… different around you," she said. Her voice was a bare whisper. Her eyes fixed on the horizon.

My breath caught. My hands were suddenly wet. This was the moment. The one I had not let myself think about.

"Me too, Clara," I said. My voice was rougher than I meant. "Like… like the world just got clear."

She turned. Her gaze met mine. It was true and open. "It’s… lovely, isn’t it?"

I nodded. I could not speak. A lump was in my throat. I reached out slowly and took her hand. Her fingers were warm. They felt small in mine. A quiet shiver went through me. It was a feeling of deep rightness. It was not a big shock or dramatic. It was a soft, clear feeling. It settled deep in my chest.

That evening, I walked her home. The first stars were out. We walked hand in hand. The quiet between us was not awkward anymore. It felt good. It was full of things we did not say. It was not a huge fire yet. But it was a small, bright ember. It glowed with the quiet, exciting warmth of my first, real love.

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Inviting @jyoti-thelight to participate here

Thank you friends for reading here.