A Touching Campus Love Story: From Innocence to Maturity
In the year 20xx, on the day before leaving, I sat in the spot where it all began, staring at the place where she used to sit. A faint sadness washed over me. Why? Did I really like her? How ironic, all this time, and what had I done?
We met right after I transferred back to the main campus from the branch school. That day during practical class, a few of us guys were bored and started talking about the girls in our class. Sigh, such a sad ratio—more than 40 students, and only 8 of them were girls. And they were all tough girls from the Northeast, but pretty nonetheless. It felt like fate, or why else would I, sitting behind her, have the urge to “accidentally” pull her hair? To my surprise, she turned around playfully, blinking her big eyes, and softly called me a “naughty boy.” Yes, that’s it, love at first sight struck, just like that. She reminded me of a character, Grace (⊙_⊙) , though she was a bit chubby, which is why I liked to call her “Chubby Grace.”
From that moment on, she kept “picking on” me. My buddies said I was on a lucky streak with the ladies, but I think it was just simple affection at the time. We joked around every day, and after class in the evenings, she would always call me to chat. This only convinced my friends more that she wanted to pursue me.
Gradually, I found myself really starting to like her, wanting to confess, yet hesitating. I kept putting it off until finally, winter break arrived. I still remember awkwardly braiding her hair before we left for break, her laughing so happily. I promised her I’d learn how to braid properly and do it for her when we got back. Even as she walked me to the school gate, I couldn’t summon the courage to confess.
After practicing for so long, I finally asked one of my friends’ girlfriends to let me try braiding her hair. I felt pretty confident—I wanted to surprise her. I had been looking forward to the start of the new term, but when it came, she wasn’t there. “Maybe she’s delayed for some reason; she’ll be here tomorrow,” I reassured myself. Almost a week passed, and I couldn’t hold back any longer, so I called her. Myocarditis—a medical term I had never heard of at the time—shocked me.
Any heart condition seemed serious to me, and even after learning it was a minor issue, I was still worried. She said she’d come back in a few weeks, then that she’d come back later, and finally, she admitted she probably wouldn’t return that semester. Maybe she really wasn’t well, or maybe she just didn’t want to see me.
For two whole semesters, she didn’t return. She kept it a secret from everyone, including her best friend—she had taken a leave of absence. How ironic that despite talking every day, I didn’t know that I was no longer the one she liked. Our conversations lost their warmth, became formal, and slowly, at some point, they dwindled to almost nothing, leaving only dull, brief exchanges.
The day I received the notification that I had passed the interview, I knew she was no longer part of my dreams. I finally regretted my cowardice back then.
People often say that when you’re 17 or 18, in school, you experience the most genuine love, a love that’s innocent and carefree. But we all have to mature in the end. Boys, be brave and take a step closer to the girl you like, just a little closer. And girls, give him some time—it’s not that he doesn’t love you; it’s just that he loves you so deeply that he’s afraid of losing you.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
