I chuckled softly, absorbed in a funny meme on Twitter, when I suddenly collided with someone on the stairs, scattering him belongings everywhere.

“Damn it...” I muttered, guilt washing over me.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention!” I stammered, hurriedly picking up his things.

When I stood, our eyes met.

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his expression surprisingly kind. “It’s okay, really. Thank you.”

As he took his items, our fingers brushed, sending a warmth through me.

“Thank you again." he said, smiling as he walked away.

I could only stand there, frozen in place like an idiot, watching as he walked away. My heart was racing in a way it never had before. Slowly, I pressed a hand to my chest, as if trying to steady it. "I think he’s the one."

The next day, I learned he was my father’s friend’s son. I worked hard to approach her, making him laugh. After three months, he said yes, and I felt like I was living a dream.

Three years later, we graduated and moved in together, but soon, our busy jobs left us with less time. One night, I returned home to find a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom.

“Babe?” I called, unease creeping in.

Peeking through the crack, my breath hitched, and my world shattered in an instant. There he was—my first love, the man I thought I’d spend my life with—entangled with another man.

Time seemed to freeze as I stared at the scene, my mind reeling with disbelief and pain.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, though it held no humor. My chest ached, and my vision blurred as the weight of betrayal sank in.

My eyes went dreadful, filled with pain and disbelief. “I regret meeting you.” I murmured, my voice cold and distant.