And so, here we were—on the last evening of our week together. I had never imagined it would feel like this. The trip had been a whirlwind, full of moments that made me question everything I thought I knew about us, about myself. She was older than me—only few years. But over the past days, as we laughed, talked, and spent time together, I began to feel like that gap was shrinking, like it no longer mattered to her as much.

The sunset was beautiful, its orange glow spreading across the sky, but I couldn’t focus on anything except her. She was sitting beside me, her legs tucked under her, eyes lost in the view in front of us. The whole week had been like peeling away layers between us, and now, at the end of it, I realized I was ready for something more.

There was a growing feeling in my chest that we had crossed some invisible line. We had shared enough, laughed enough, and connected enough to make me believe this could be something real. But I had to know where I stood. I had to know if she was ready to see me as more than just the younger guy who kept chasing after her. I had to ask her.

I turned to her, my heart beating faster than usual, not out of fear but anticipation. There was a tension in the air, something I could almost taste, and I knew I had to ask the question that had been eating at me all week.

“Do you think I’ve proven it to you?” I asked, my voice soft but steady. “Do you think I’ve shown you that I’m not just some teenager anymore? That I’m not acting like one? Do you think I’m a man now? A man who deserves to be with you? Do you finally see how much I care about you? And that, for me, our age difference doesn’t matter?”

I let my words hang in the air between us, feeling the weight of them. I had said it all now—laid everything out there, hoping she would finally see me for who I was, not who she thought I was. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn’t look away from her. I just needed to know if she saw me, really saw me, the way I saw myself now.