Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Not beta-ed. All mistakes are mine.
The first time I met you, I was eight years old. You had come with your parents to get admitted to my school. I only caught a glimpse of you as you were leaving, but it was enough. That particular moment is imprinted in my memories, even now, after everything that has happened. It's the first thing I think of when I think of you.
Your hair was the color of pennies. I remember thinking how pretty it looked under the sun. It was long and fell into your eyes and it annoyed the hell out of you. Come to think of it now, maybe that's how your habit of agitatedly running your hand through your hair started.
I didn't know which grade you were in. I didn't know your name. I didn't know you. But that didn't stop me from hoping that I'd see you again. And a few days later, there you were in my classroom, sitting behind me, scribbling quietly in your notebook.
You didn't see me, but I saw you.
I always saw you.
Let me stop you here. I want to add a few side notes to this story‒to my side of this story. Maybe then you can relate.
I was never a believer of fate. Things don't happen simply because they are meant to happen. It's all bullshit.
Case in point: My mother married a man who was twelve years senior to him. It was an arranged marriage. Seven years into the marriage, my father died, leaving us penniless. My mother had to work three jobs to make ends meet. Needless to say, my childhood was pretty rough. I remember a time when I had asked my mother why she had agreed to marry my dad. If I recall clearly, this is how the conversation went:
Me: So, why did you marry him if you didn't love him?
Renee: It was what my family expected of me. I couldn't let them down.
Me: That's bullshit, Mom.
Renee: Language, Bella!
Me: Sorry…. Did you have any boyfriends?
Renee: (smiles slightly) Well, there was this one guy. Stop doing that with your eyebrows, Bee. Stop it! Fine, I'm not going to continue if you're going to be so childish about it.
Me: Aww, fine. Tell me.
Renee: There's really nothing to tell. He liked me. We went out for a while. I broke it off with him when you dad came into the picture.
Me: Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you didn't breakup with that guy?
Ma: (Shrugs) Sometimes. (Looks at me) But I don't regret anything. I have you and you're enough.
It was all a load of crap.
If she had had enough courage to do what she actually wanted, she's have led an entirely different life. Maybe I wouldn't been a part of it, but at least she wouldn't have had anything to regret.
And trust me when that my mother was regretful.
Do you see what I'm going for, here?
Can you understand?
I didn't understand fate or destiny. I didn't want to understand it, least of all believe in it.
I insist that you read the sentence above at least twice because I can assure you that it'll make you laugh once or twice as we progress with this story.
Oh, the irony.
Now, where were we? Oh, right.
You joined my school when I was in the second grade, and by some stroke of luck (don't even think about the f word) you landed in my class. But I don't think you really noticed me until we were in the third grade.
Third grade was a bit different than the second. We were in the same class, but in different sections. I saw your face every day, but I hardly ever talked to you. Third grade was a blur. I don't remember anything.
Except for the glitters.
It was Father's day and the teachers had packed away all the students into one large classroom and given us stationaries to make cards for our Dads. Although I loved crafts, I wasn't really into making a card that day. What was the use any way? It's not like I had a father to give the card to. Like every other Father's day, I was expecting to go home and throw the glorified piece of paper in a dustbin so that my mother wouldn't have to look at it.
So, there I was, in my seat, doodling away when you planted your cute little bum on the seat beside me.
I think I may have stopped breathing.
You leaned sideways to get a look at my card and you frowned in the most adorable way.
"Is something wrong?" I choked out.
You had green eyes. Green eyes with flecks of golden scattered about. I felt like all I could do was stare at them. And then you opened your mouth and I just about died.
"I think it needs a bit of glitter."
I couldn't make sense of your words but I saw you push your glitter glues towards me and I picked one up.
"Not that one. Use blue."
I did as you said and used the blue glitter. You watched me for a while but then you got bored and started working on your card. By the time I was finished, my card did not look half bad.
I smiled at you and you smiled back.
And that was all the interaction we had that year.
The next year was disastrous.
You want to know why?
It's because that's the year I realized that I had a crush on you.
The years that followed were even worse.
You want to know why?
It's because I realized that I was hopelessly in love with you.
And now as I am sitting here writing this story about us, I'm sure about one thing.
You're my destiny, Edward Cullen.
You can laugh now.
Idk. I just wanted to write. Leave your thoughts.