I still remember the night we met. It clings to me like a ghost, following me into every room, every race, every restless hour when I should be sleeping but instead I find myself staring at the ceiling, replaying you in my head.

The bar was dimly lit, warm with the hum of strangers’ conversations. Music floated somewhere in the background—soft, nostalgic, the kind that makes you ache without knowing why. I’d slipped in unnoticed, hoodie pulled up, trying to disappear into the shadows. And then I saw you.

You weren’t doing anything extraordinary—just laughing with your friends, tucking your hair behind your ear as though the world belonged to you in that moment. But for me, the world tilted. Something inside me recognized you, even though I didn’t know your name yet.

When our eyes finally met, it felt like someone had cut the noise, leaving only the two of us in a silence that wasn’t empty but full—heavy with possibility. I don’t even remember what I said first; I just know I was smiling, nervous and clumsy, while you looked at me like you already knew me.

From that night, my life became divided into before you and after you. Every late-night call, every drive along empty roads, every whispered secret in the dark stitched you into me like thread through fabric. And for a while, I thought we were unbreakable.

But love isn’t always about holding on. Sometimes it’s about losing yourself in someone so much that when they leave, you forget how to be whole. And that’s what you did—you left, and you took the version of me I loved most with you.

Now I see you again, standing in front of me after all this time. The air between us is heavy, almost suffocating, filled with everything we never said. My chest tightens as I force myself to look at you, really look at you, as if memorizing the outline of a dream I can never step back into.

Your voice breaks the silence, soft and uncertain, but I barely hear the words. I’m drowning in what I lost. In what we were. In the night we met.

And all I can manage is a whisper, hoarse and trembling: “I’ve been lost ever since the night I met you.”