If I Could, I Would Love You Too (1)

I met him back in high school, when our paths crossed as members of the student council. Back then, the bond between us carried the tenderness of siblings. I treated him as the younger brother I never had, and he, in turn, saw me as an older sister he could rely on.

For years, that was enough. Until one day, four years ago, something shifted. Without warning, he began to hint; subtly, quietly that perhaps he wanted us to be something more than just friends. I understood, of course. But I pretended I did not.

And then, this year we met again. This time, I saw a different version of him. He was no longer the boy I once knew, no longer the “little brother” I had neatly placed in a corner of my past. He was older now; steadier, brighter, with a presence that unsettled me. We spoke for hours, weaving our lives together once more, and in the midst of it all, he asked me again: Could we be more?

This time, he was unafraid. And I -once so skilled at pretending-  (haha) could only fall silent.

In that silence; I remembered our countless conversations, how easily they had flowed, how often his dreams mirrored mine. I thought of his patience, his constancy, the way he honored even the fiercest of my ambitions; ambitions that might have frightened other men away.

I began to think, maybe, just maybe , he could be the one.

But the truth is: I had never loved him the way he loved me. And love, I knew, could not be born simply out of admiration, nor out of gratitude for his devotion. I don’t want to say yes simply because, among all the candidates, he is the one who fits best.