five years later...

SHYLA

It was 8 in the morning.

I was sitting on my bed, writing down some ideas on my baby blue notebook. After I graduated, I had started writing romantic novels. Being the indecisive person I am, I finished different courses in the medicine field, and after that, realized that I didn't want to become a doctor.

The pressure of finding a job and moving out of my mother's house was overwhelming. One of my sisters was an architect, another one was studying law, and the other one worked at something that had to do with programming. If I didn't follow my family's path, I was going to become the only unsuccessful one in the family. That was when I decided I could start writing.

It all started with a few ideas that popped up in my head. That transformed into brainstorming and a few sentences written on paper. Eventually, all of those ideas became small books that I presented at book exhibitions. I didn't become the greatest writer of all time, but I gained popularity. A novelist, writing romantic novels without having romantic experience. It's crazy, right?

All of my books had at least one thing in common. The main, male character was inspired by him.

People think that getting over someone is relatively easy, as life goes on and you meet other people. For me, it wasn't really simple.

Everyday, for the past five years, I had been thinking about him as the main character in my story. My first crush. Perfection mixed with silly mistakes. Bitter and sweet. Hot and cold. He was everything, he could be everything. I knew that the possibility of finding him again was low, but I wouldn't just give up.

When I moved out, I looked for houses with a homely vibe, since I wanted to have a family one day. I had my castle, but I needed my prince.

At that time, I had hope. I could definitely talk to him again, he had given me his number. One call. Two calls. Three calls. No answer.

I didn't want to be obsessive though, so I stopped texting him. If it's meant to be, it'll be. I thought about destiny so much, and my mind just accepted the fact that I had nothing left to do. No matter how hard I tried, sometimes that feeling came back. What I used to feel when I talked to him. Those dreams of my perfect life became nightmares, almost feeling defeated. And those restless butterflies, full of energy as I remembered his smile.

That sensation, those memories, and the butterflies inspired me to write. Every time I started writing, more memories popped up in my mind.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing loudly, making me drop my pencil and stop brainstorming. An unknown number.

"Hello?" I said on the phone, a familiar voice started talking.

"Is this Shyla Morgan? I'm Jenny Wallace, from high school! Do you remember me?" The high-pitched voice said. Of course I remembered Jenny. She was the sweetest girl in our class, and she was nice to everyone.

"Of course I do! How's everything going?" I asked, expecting her to tell me something about her job or studies.

"Well, I have a boyfriend! And I think we're getting more serious. Actually, I'm pretty sure he's going to propose next week, at the high school reunion!" She said, making me remember about the high school reunion. There was a possibility of seeing him again.

"That's great! Who's the lucky guy?" I said trying to sound as excited as possible. Proposing at a high school reunion sounded a little strange, and kind of lame, but I still felt happy for her.

"Do you remember Aiden, the tall guy from our class?" My heart stopped beating for a second. It couldn't be my Aiden. But then again, there hadn't been any other tall guy with that name in our class.

I stayed in silence, trying to find another explanation. My mind didn't want to accept it. It couldn't be real.

"Hey Jenny, I'm getting another call, I'll talk to you later." I said quickly and hung up.

Everything felt like my worst nightmare.