To the One I Once Called Home
I met Sagara in 2016, when we were just two quiet eleven-year-olds trying to find our place in the world. He was the new kid — soft-spoken, a little awkward, yet somehow effortlessly charming. It didn’t take long for everyone to adore him. And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, I did too.
I confessed once, in that innocent, trembling way kids do. He said he liked me back, and for a moment I let myself imagine something more. But nothing happened after that. No promises, no beginning. Just two friends walking side by side, pretending we didn’t notice the space between us.
By our third year in junior high school, he was with Isabel — the girl everyone said was perfect for him. Our routines quietly faded. No more walking home together, no more stolen afternoons with a basketball between us. He drifted toward her, and I drifted into a version of myself that felt smaller than ever.
Before graduation, he apologized. Just a soft “sorry,” a gentle wish for us to be good friends again. And I said yes easily, because missing him had always been my bad habit.
High school naturally separated us. We talked less, lived our own lives. Somehow, I changed too. The shy, almost invisible girl I used to be turned into someone people actually noticed. Love letters in my locker, boys waiting after school. Things I never imagined would happen to me. For a while, it felt like I was finally learning how to let him go.
Until I heard his mom was sick.
I don’t know what pulled me to him that day, but I went. He looked tired, older somehow, like the world had been pressing too hard on his shoulders. He told me everything — about school, about friends, about how hard things had been. And something in me softened.
And that old feeling, the one I thought I’d buried came crawling back, reminding me of the boy I once loved, and the part of me that still wanted to be there for him.
We ended up going to the same university, and yes, we finally started dating. It felt like everything I had once hoped for was finally happening. I was living my life to the fullest, knowing I had Sagara beside me. The boy I had always yearned for. The one who knew me long before I became this version of myself, the girl who somehow drew attention without trying.
Being with him made me feel like he was the one who understood me better than anyone else.
Then one evening, your close bandmate, Jemian, came to my place. He was returning a jacket he thought I had left at your studio the night before, when he saw your car leaving. At first, I assumed he was mistaken. Maybe he saw someone else. Maybe it wasn’t even your car.
But the truth hit me harder than I expected. You told me you were meeting an old friend yesterday.
And it turned out that “old friend” was Isabel.
I knew it from the jacket. Of course I did. There was a time when I still stalked her profile, trying to understand the only ex he ever had. The girl he once chose over me.
After a long night of arguments, and after hearing a thousand apologies spilled from his mouth, I forgave him. Just like that. As easy as breathing.
Then one morning, I realized something in me had quietly changed. My feelings for you no longer lived the way they used to. Maybe all this time, what kept us together was how readily I showed up for him, how easily I stayed. And suddenly, that started to feel heavy.
And just like that, this is where our story ends.
The person I once called home is now just another chapter I’ve finally learned to close.
