The Girl I Once Loved

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when I saw her again, almost twenty years later.

For a moment, my heart forgot how to beat. Could it really be her?

Time is a strange thing. It slips through your fingers when you’re young and races past you when you’re older. But in that fleeting moment when our eyes met, time did something magical, it stood still.

She stood by the edge of the park, sunlight wrapping around her like a familiar shawl. She wore a floral dress, pink shoes peeking beneath the hem, her hair swaying gently in the breeze. Those same warm brown eyes looked at me, still holding that quiet mischief I remembered. But this time, there were soft wrinkles at the corners, streaks of silver in her hair, and a kind of calm in her smile that only life can bring.

And yet, to me, she was still the most beautiful girl.

We first met in school, back when dreams were scribbled in the margins of notebooks and love meant stealing glances across the classroom. She used to sit two benches ahead of me, jasmine tucked into her braid, ink on her fingers, and a laugh that made everything feel lighter.

I remember how our hands brushed once at the water cooler, how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about her dreams. She was poetry without ever trying to be.

We never had a real goodbye. She moved away after school, and life happened like it always does. This was before social media, before mobile phones. If you lost someone back then, you really lost them.

But somehow, there she was. Standing in front of me, older, yes. Changed, of course. But still her.

We talked. It was a little awkward at first, like trying to read an old letter you once knew by heart. But slowly, the rhythm returned. The way she tilted her head when she laughed, the way she bit her lip when unsure, all those little things came back like they had just been waiting.

She told me about her life, her kids. A job that keeps her busy. Long days, short nights. I told her about mine. We laughed about the things that once felt like the end of the world. Smiled at how life had turned out, not perfectly, but somehow still alright.

And then, for a second, I really looked at her. Past the years, past the changes. I saw her.

The girl I once loved.

The barefoot dreamer on the school ground.

The one who once whispered, “I’ll never forget you” on our last day.

And somehow, I knew she hadn’t.

When we said goodbye, there was no drama. No tears, no promises. Just two people who had once meant everything to each other, now sitting on a park bench, sharing a memory as the sun began to set.

As I walked away, I didn’t feel regret.

I felt peace.

And something else. Gratitude.

Grateful that I had once loved someone so deeply, that even after all these years, just seeing her could stir something inside me. Grateful that she was okay, that life had been kind in its own quiet way.

She was never mine to keep.

But she will always be the girl I once loved.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

From the boy who still remembers her laughter