Love You for an Extra Half Hour
At that time, both he and she were still in college, and like most young lovers, they would part ways only to long to see each other again.
Every three days, he would visit her at the East Campus. They would then go for walks, have meals together, and talk endlessly. Like all couples, they never seemed to run out of things to say, so he always delayed his return to the West Campus until the last possible moment.
He could have taken the Route 14 bus directly to the entrance of the West Campus, but he always chose to take Route 16 instead.
The last bus of Route 16 departed half an hour later than Route 14.
One stopped at 10:30 PM, and the other at 11:00 PM.
However, Route 16 would drop him two kilometers away from the school, meaning he had to walk an extra two kilometers to get there, often arriving at campus close to midnight. He remembers those winter nights vividly—walking alone under the starlit sky, through the snow-covered streets, with a particular beauty in the solitude.
When she found out, she was moved for a long time. She asked, “Wasn’t it tiring? Especially since it was so cold in the winter.”
But he replied, “When you’re in love, you don’t feel tired.”
Perhaps love does make people more emotional than rational. He insisted on this routine for four years. He would say, “I got to love you for many more days. Think about it—every few days, I got to love you for an extra half hour. Over these four years, how many days does that add up to?”
She was a city girl, but because of this one sentence, she followed him back to his hometown, a small city.
Initially, her parents were opposed to the idea.
But they realized that a man willing to love her for an extra half hour and then walk the remaining distance was someone they could trust her future with.
Later, they married and had children in that small city. They lived a modest life, not wealthy, but content.
Then one day, he suddenly fell ill.
It was a serious illness. She had to take care of him while continuing to work. To visit him at the hospital in the morning, she had to wake up very early, preparing the soup he liked and packing his favorite snacks before rushing out the door.
She could have visited him a bit later.
But to spend more time with him, she took the earliest bus, the one at 5:00 AM, and would even go to the next station to catch it.
Just like he did years ago, she got up at 4:00 AM, made breakfast, prepared the soup, and then took the earliest bus to see him.
He knew that bus was the earliest one, and looking at her with concern, he said, “Don’t wake up so early anymore. Look, you’ve gotten so thin.”
She playfully responded, “I want to return all those extra half hours you loved me.”
When she said this, they both froze. She looked at him; he was no longer young. In his thirties now, wrinkles had begun to appear on his face. He looked at her too, noticing how time had turned his once delicate wife into a woman marked by the years. If she hadn’t married him, she could have married someone better, stayed in the big city, and lived a happier life.
After he recovered, he asked her if she ever regretted it.
She shook her head, “Love never regrets.”
For those extra half hours, she felt it was all worth it.
Later, they appeared on a TV show, one of those interactive shows involving several couples. The task was for each person to find their partner by touching hands while blindfolded.
As it turned out, they were the only couple who found each other.
The host asked, “How were you able to find each other?”
Blushing slightly, she shyly explained, “Because he holds my hand every day. He says he can’t fall asleep without holding my hand.”
He also blushed and said, “It’s just a habit. When I sleep, I have to hold her hand. When I hold her hand, I feel secure and happy.”
Between them, the passion of their early years had faded, but in that moment of holding hands, their eyes glistened with tears.
Perhaps that’s what love is—holding your hand and walking through life together.
Perhaps that’s what love is—waiting for you, loving you for an extra half hour, even if it means walking a little further.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
