That day, there was no obligation bringing us together.
It was a day off. A day when each of us could have gone about our own lives, rested, or done anything else.
And yet, someone chose to come and see me. I was waiting on a bench along the seafront, close to the water. I don’t know if I remember every detail of that afternoon, but I remember perfectly the moment I saw that familiar figure approaching.
There were two coffees and two chocolates.
One for me.
One for the person who had come to see me.
The chocolate had already started melting in the heat. Such an ordinary little detail, something anyone else might have forgotten. But I never did. Because it wasn’t really about the coffee or the chocolate. It was about the fact that someone had thought of me before arriving. That somewhere along the way, I had been part of someone else’s thoughts.
We sat on that bench for a while, with the sea in front of us and the sounds of people all around. We didn’t need a plan. We didn’t need anywhere extraordinary to go. For me, simply being there together was already enough.
After a while, we went for a walk.
The city was hot. The streets still held the warmth of the day, cars hurried past, and I was paying attention to everything and nothing at once. The shop windows. The sounds. The footsteps beside mine. That tiny distance between two people who had no idea what they were becoming to each other. We went into a shop and bought some gummy candies. Nothing special.
Just a few sweets chosen on an ordinary afternoon. Then we found ourselves in a park, sitting on another bench. We ate the gummies there. I don’t remember us having any extraordinary conversation. Maybe we laughed, maybe we got tangled up in words again, maybe we let our phones translate what we couldn’t manage to say. But I remember how good I felt. How simple everything seemed. And how desperately I wanted time to slow down.
At some point, I heard a suggestion.
“I want to take you somewhere beautiful.”
I didn’t know where we were going. And honestly, it didn’t matter. I got up from the bench, and we started walking again. When we reached a road we needed to cross, something happened that I would carry with me for a very long time.
A hand reached for mine.
I hadn’t made the first move. I hadn’t searched for an excuse. Our fingers simply intertwined, so naturally that, for a moment, I forgot everything happening around us. I felt butterflies.
And peace.
Until then, I had believed those two feelings couldn’t exist together. That someone could either make your heart race or make you feel safe.
But in that moment, I felt both. I didn’t say anything. We crossed the street holding hands. A gesture that probably meant nothing to the rest of the world. But to me, it meant more than I could have explained in any language. Then we took a bus. I still didn’t know exactly where we were going. I watched the streets of a city that wasn’t mine pass by outside the window, never imagining that one day I would long so desperately to return there. Eventually, we got off. And started walking towards the sea. It wasn’t an ordinary beach. It was a rocky stretch of coastline, where the ground was uneven and some of the stones were slippery. Beyond them, the sea stretched all the way to the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, painting the water in warm shades of gold and orange.
That was when I understood what “somewhere beautiful” had meant. It was a little corner of the world where the sunset looked different. We began making our way down between the rocks. I was trying to watch my step when, once again, a hand reached out towards me. I took it. And we made our way down together. There was no music playing in the background. It wasn’t a scene from a movie. There were only the rocks, the sea, the sunset, and two people trying to reach the same place.
But I wanted to stop time.
Because sometimes the most beautiful moments aren’t the ones when someone promises you the world. They’re the ones when someone reaches out a hand to keep you from falling.
We watched the sunset.
I don’t know whether I understood then how much that afternoon would eventually mean to me. Probably not. I was too busy being happy.
On the bus ride back, exhaustion was beginning to catch up with us. Words had become unnecessary. I rested my head on that familiar shoulder. And I stayed there. There was no attempt to pull away. No need for explanations. Outside the window, lights, people, and streets passed by streets I would probably never recognise again. All I could feel was the warmth of that shoulder. And a kind of peace I hadn’t known in a very long time. I wondered whether that person had any idea what was happening inside me. Whether those small gestures were leaving traces somewhere deep within me, in a place I would one day struggle to reach. Maybe there was no need to know. Maybe, for a little while, simply being there was enough. I remember the glances, too. Those glances that lasted a little longer than they should have. The ones that made me smile and lower my eyes. And when I looked up again, sometimes I would meet that same gaze. I wish I could translate exactly what was happening between us.
I couldn’t then.
I still can’t.
There are people who tell you they love you in long, beautiful sentences. But that day, no one needed long sentences. Someone had come to see me on a day off. Someone had brought me coffee and chocolate that had melted along the way. We had eaten gummy candies together on a park bench. That person had held my hand while we crossed the street. Offered support as we made our way down the rocks. And given me a shoulder to rest my head on during the journey back. And I was beginning to believe that any road, no matter how difficult, could be travelled that way.
With that hand in mine.
To be continued…
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