Since high school, Bunga had fallen for her senior.
He was simple, with a sweet face and a calm, indifferent attitude — and somehow, that very indifference was what made Bunga unable to stop looking at him.
For three whole years, she kept that feeling locked deep inside. Even saying hello felt impossible, because the boy she liked already had a girlfriend.
And so, she stayed silent.
Watching him from afar, memorizing his every gesture, and pretending not to care when their eyes accidentally met in the school corridor.
Time passed. Graduation came, and the boy left — never knowing that a quiet girl had spent three years loving him from a distance. Bunga moved on with her life, working, growing, learning to close the door on feelings that had never been spoken.
Yet the heart never truly forgets its first love.
Then, one ordinary afternoon, a message appeared in her Instagram inbox.
It was from a stranger — a man bold enough to knock on the door of her private space.
The messages moved to WhatsApp. At first, Bunga replied half-heartedly, with no emotion. But the man didn’t stop. He kept trying, saying he had noticed her for a long time — though Bunga couldn’t remember ever meeting him.
Days turned into months.
Months turned into years.
For two long years, the man never stopped pursuing her.
Even when she ignored him, even when she said she wasn’t interested, he kept showing his sincerity. Slowly, the walls around Bunga’s heart began to crack.
And eventually, she gave in. She let herself fall.
One day, Bunga was invited to visit her boyfriend’s house.
It felt like any other visit — casual, normal.
But behind that door, a surprise awaited her.
Standing in the living room was a face she would never forget.
The same boy who used to make her nervous every time they passed each other in the hallway.
The boy she had admired for three silent years.
The boy who once made her believe in love for the very first time.
Her heart froze.
The world fell silent.
Because the boy — her first love — was her boyfriend’s younger brother.
That night, Bunga walked home slowly, her chest heavy but her lips smiling faintly. It felt as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, yet at the same time, teaching her something profound.
Some loves are meant to be felt, not fulfilled.
Some people are meant to cross our path, not to stay.
Bunga cried that night.
“If only I had been brave back then,” she whispered,
“Maybe things wouldn’t be this complicated. Maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here, looking at you — not as the man I once loved, but as the brother of the man I love now. But this is fate… it always finds a way to make the heart pause at the crossroads.”
And at that moment, she understood —
the most bittersweet kind of fate is watching your first love walk down the aisle,
not as your groom, but as your brother-in-law.
Perhaps this is what fate means —
it doesn’t always bring us to the ones we want,
but to the ones we are meant to cherish.
So let it be.
Bunga will keep this feeling as a quiet secret,
a memory she will hold close forever —
a love born in the past,
a love that will never fade,
a first love that became family.
Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash
