A(n unfinished) novel I had once wanted to make for Wattpad:
I was 21 when I learned the irreversible truth that I love her. And from then on, I have spent days and nights trying to figure if she would love me too. In all those years I believe she did, but in a lot less romantic way than I would have preferred. Although, fair to say, it was way more than what was realistic in our case. She – Michaela Rotts, aged 20 when I fell in love with her – was three years deep into her relationship with the rich and suave banker’s son named Andrew Connor. I have only seen him once, God forbid there wasn’t a second time, or a third and fourth, in a basketball game with Michaela, and they hid in a jacket to fight the arena’s cold while he held her hand tightly on his. It was the most terrible sight that obliged me to not dare approach them and instead be seated somewhere they wouldn’t see me, which was a wise decision I would still make if an encounter like that happens again. By the way, the team I cheered for lost that game – a good showing of what was to come. Six full years passed and I still haven’t seen them together in flesh. Only in pictures that they posted online and that brought me the saddest news ever in my whole life – their marriage. Two fucking years ago.
The next two years was obviously an agonizing ride. The first part of those years was marked by