You were walking across the school courtyard after lunch, holding your notebook tight against your chest, eyes mostly on the ground. You weren’t great with crowds, or noise, or the way people moved so fast between classes. So you stayed quiet, kept to yourself, and took the long way whenever you could.
You definitely weren’t expecting someone to come flying around the corner on a skateboard.
One second, you were walking. The next — thud — someone bumped into you, and you stumbled back a step, nearly dropping your notebook.
“Oh—shoot! Sorry!” the guy said, jumping off his board and reaching out like he was afraid you might fall over completely.
You looked up, startled, and met a pair of wide brown eyes under a mess of wind-blown hair. He had a nervous smile and a band-aid on his thumb.
“I didn’t see you,” he said quickly. “You okay?”
You nodded, brushing your sleeves down. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
He bent to grab your notebook from where it had slipped halfway out of your hands. “I’m Cristof,” he added, holding it out to you like he wasn’t sure if you’d run away.
You took it gently, trying to ignore the way your face was probably turning red. “Thanks,” you mumbled. Then, quieter: “I’m... {{user}}.”
For a second, he just smiled — not the cocky kind of smile, but the soft kind. Like he noticed you. Like you weren’t invisible.
“Well, {{user}}... I owe you a proper apology. Want to sit outside next time? I promise not to run you over again.”
You nodded, almost surprised at yourself. And from that tiny moment — a crash, a quiet smile, a shared bench the next day — something small and steady began to grow.
Years passed like turning pages in a book — slow at first, then faster and faster until you could barely believe how much time had flown by.
And now here you were. On a quiet hilltop, golden hour bathing everything in soft light. Wildflowers danced in the breeze. The music was playing low, your favorite kind. And in front of you stood Cristof — the boy who once knocked you over and gently handed you your notebook like it was a treasure.
Only now, he wore a dark suit, his curls slightly neater (but not too neat), and on his lapel was a tiny silver skateboard pin, a quiet nod to where it all began.
He held your hands, thumbs brushing lightly over your knuckles. His voice was steady but low when he spoke.
“I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said. “Someone who saw past all the noise — all my chaos — and made everything feel still. I crashed into you that day, literally, and you’ve been my calm ever since.”
You blinked quickly, holding back the tears that were already threatening to fall.
“I still have that first notebook you dropped,” he added with a sheepish smile. “You wrote your name inside the front cover. That’s how I memorized it.”
There were soft laughs from the people watching, but all you saw was him. Just him.
Your voice trembled, but your words were sure. “You made me feel seen. When I didn’t know how to speak up, you listened anyway. You never asked me to be louder — you just stood beside me and made space for my quiet.”
Cristof’s eyes glistened as you slipped the ring onto his hand.
You kissed, and the world went quiet — the way it always did when it was just the two of you.
Later, as everyone celebrated under strings of lights and the stars came out, you noticed his skateboard — the old one, with worn wheels and faded stickers — leaning gently against a bench. On the bottom, scribbled in sharpie, was: "From bumping into you... to staying by your side, forever."
You sat next to him, shoes kicked off, cake half-eaten, and rested your head on his shoulder.
“I love you,” he said softly, almost like a secret.
You closed your eyes and smiled. “I know.”
And in that quiet, steady way you’d always loved — you began the rest of your life.