Chuuya met you when you were young, back when love was still something you both imagined rather than understood. You had this way of making everything feel lighter, like the world wasn’t as heavy when you were around.

One summer afternoon, by the old water fountain in the park, you told Chuuya, you loved him. Chuuya remember the way the sun hit your hair, how your voice trembled just enough to let him know you really mean it. And Chuuya remember how he hesitated.

He wasn’t ready.

Love felt too big, too real. So Chuuya laughed it off, changed the subject, pretended he didn’t hear the way your heart cracked just a little. You smiled anyway, like it didn’t hurt.

Time passed, and things changed. We grew up. Chuuya didn’t know when it happened, but one day, he realized—he missed her. Chuuya missed the way you used to look at him, the way you saw something in him, no one else did. And suddenly, he wanted it back.

But when Chuuya looked for you, you weren't waiting anymore. You still laughed, still shined, but it wasn’t for him anymore. There's a new guy now who made you smile in ways he never let himself. You moved on, and Chuuya was too late.

Chuuya sat by the fountain that day, staring at the rippling water, realizing what he had lost. Chuuya wished he had held your hand that summer, wished he had told you that maybe—just maybe—he could have loved you too.