From the moment I saw you, I wanted to meet you. Not to say anything grand, not to begin something rushed. I simply wanted to be near you—to know who you are, to hear your voice, to see that smile just one more time… and then many more times after that.
That moment came unexpectedly, like a ray of sunlight piercing through the clouds in my heart. You didn’t do anything extraordinary—just appeared. But your presence alone changed everything within me. My heart skipped a beat, my eyes paused on you, and I knew: I was drawn into something beautiful, something real.
I didn’t know what to call that feeling. Was it the first stirrings of affection? A silent harmony? Or perhaps a whisper of fate? All I knew was that from that moment on, I was no longer the same. I began to think of you, to hope for chance encounters, to dream of things I had never dared to believe in.
I wanted to meet you—not to possess, but to understand. Not to claim, but to listen. I wanted to know what you love, what you fear, what you dream of. I wanted to be the one you could lean on when you’re tired, the one you could trust when the world feels uncertain.
From the moment I saw you, I wanted to meet you—not just once, but again and again. Not just in passing, but in every day. Not as strangers brushing past each other, but as two souls who may have always belonged together, just now finding their way back.
And if I could, I would want to meet you forever—in every glance, every word, every moment of this life.
