Love starts with L, they say—but mine started with K. And even though pain may start with a P, K was the one who taught me how it truly feels.
It all began on a loud, chaotic sports event day. I wasn't even paying attention to her. I was still wrapped in a two-year crush on someone else—L. But fate doesn't ask permission when it walks in.
I was standing at the school shop with a green Coke bottle in hand. A long line stretched behind me. A guy ahead of a girl asked to feel if my drink was cold. I let him. Then she spoke.
"Can I also feel it?"
She was standing behind him—her. That was the second time I noticed her. Our hands touched for a second when I gave her the bottle. I looked her in the eyes… and felt nothing at first.
But something must've stayed.
Because the first time I saw her—truly saw her—was when she was dancing in a crowd, wearing green. Then I saw her again in red. Then in blue. Each color made me think she had triplets. She confused me. Intrigued me. I admired her from a distance, even though my eyes were still stuck on L.
But slowly… L faded. The longer I looked at K, the more I felt it—L was leaving my heart. And K was taking her place.
Back then, loving L felt different. Calmer. There's more to say on that, but that's a story for another chapter.
Days passed. Valentine's Day crept closer. I was stuck in a loop of wondering if I liked K or not. That's when I noticed she was in my physics class. And my visual arts class. I had seen her before, but never noticed her like this.
I had to test myself.
In art class, she'd always be the one to empty the small bins during cleanup. So I picked some up too, stood in front of her, and waited.
"Can you hold this?" she asked.
I nodded—my heart skipped violently in my chest. That's when I knew.
The next day, I made a move. I was too shy to ask for her name before, but I finally did.
"Excuse me, what's your name?"
She smiled. Told me. K.
Then she asked mine. I stuttered it. Had to repeat it. She asked what it meant. I said I didn't know. That was it.
Still, I wasn't done.
My friends sat near her. I used that chance. One day, I stood up during art and said, loudly, "Can I borrow a pencil?" They refused. It was all part of the plan. I turned to her.
"Hey, K—can I borrow a pencil?"
She smiled, sharpened one, and gave it to me. I had three in my pocket. Didn't care.
Later, I gave it back.
"Can I see your drawings?" I asked.
"I haven't drawn anything yet," she said. "I'm trying to draw someone I like."
That stung. But I pushed through.
"Wanna see my drawings sometime?"
"Of course."
The next day, I brought my sketchbook. We didn't get to it in class, so after school, I showed her. She smiled. She talked a lot. I barely could—I was overheated from how happy I felt. That's when I asked for her number. She said she forgot hers, so I wrote mine in her book.
She texted. She actually texted. Not like with L, whose number I got through a group. This time, I earned it.
She told me she was getting braids. I wished her a safe trip. I also told her I didn't celebrate Halloween, but she told me what she might wear anyway. It was weird—but nice.
Then Monday came.
She walked in—glowing. Dazzling. I couldn't speak to her, just admired from afar. That day, I texted:
"Your hair looked really nice today."
She replied: "Thank you AE, I thought you were avoiding me."
"How could I? It was just hard to speak because of your beauty today."
"It's the hair, I promise."
"No, it ain't."
And before all that—there was the modeling show.
After school, she smiled and said, "Goodbye, see you tonight."
She even texted me later: "Where are you?"
I went. It was my first modeling show. I only went for her. I hoped maybe… maybe she was alone. But I saw her with her friends, and I couldn't interrupt. I stood alone, quiet, aching. Then after the show, as I walked out, she called me.
She gave me a side hug.
My first hug from anyone outside my family. It saved the entire night.
Then came the birthdays.
A few days before hers, I asked for her favorite anime character. I drew it. Gave it to her in person. It was the first gift I'd ever given anyone outside my family. She looked surprised. I felt warm.
Turns out we were born in the same month—she was just nine days older.
On my birthday, she brought me a pie. Three days late—she had been absent. But I was still grateful. That same week, tragedy hit—someone I knew died. The pie became a bittersweet symbol.
The last day of term, I told her, "See you next term."
She smiled. "See you."
But three days after the term ended, I saw it.
She posted a picture—sitting on a guy.
I froze. Hoped it was just a friend. Asked a mutual friend to confirm.
It wasn't LH, the guy she once said she liked. It was someone new. A stranger. A guy she never told me about. A guy who wasn't even part of the story until that day.
That's when the confusion turned into heartbreak.
Because when I confessed to her, I told her exactly how I felt.
I said: "Your eyes are beautiful. I can't hold eye contact because my heart races when I do."
She asked: "Do you like me?"
I answered: "Yes."
And she said: "You're a great guy… but I have eyes for someone else."
She never gave me a chance. I respected that. I didn't try to force anything.
But then she chose someone else entirely. Not even LH. A total stranger.
All I could ask myself was: "Why?"
She messaged me later that day: "Talk later, my bf wanna play a game."
I liked the message. Said nothing else. Just held the phone and stared.
I still felt for her, even if I didn't want to. I hated being close but silent. Far but empty. I tried to sit near her in class again. We had a fun week—talked a little, smiled. Then the week ended. We texted over the weekend. I flirted. She called me a cornball. I made her smile. Then… she blueticked me.
And then… he messaged me.
Her boyfriend.
"I'm K's bf. I saw your texts. Please leave her alone. You're seriously irritating."
I kept his number. As a reminder.
That was the moment I realized maybe she laughed at me behind my back. Maybe she showed him everything. Maybe all my heart meant nothing more than screenshots and eye-rolls.
So I pulled away.
Even though I didn't want to.
One day, I tried to be brave. I posted a status:
"Love starts with L… but mine starts with K <3."
She replied: "I hope it's a different K."
It wasn't.
I said: "I post what I feel. Plus, K started my love—but also my pain. Pain starts with K."
She said: "Pain starts with a P."
I replied: "P may start pain. But K taught me how it feels."
And that was the last thing we said.
Later, I started wondering if her likes on my status meant something. She liked all of them. It used to feel special. But I asked a mutual friend—C—if K liked everyone's statuses. C said yes. That shattered something small and silent inside me.
I thought I was special. I wasn't.
Eventually, I reached out again. We talked about a movie we both liked. I walked with her down the stairs after art class. She stood in front of me while I sat on the benches, and we kept talking. That feeling… it was warm. Comfortable. She told me she was going to dress up as a character from her favorite anime for Halloween. I don't even celebrate Halloween, but it felt good to be told anyway. And it hit harder because it was the same character I liked most in her favorite show.
Then came the goodbye.
She reached for a dab. I reached too—she pulled back.
"Got you," she laughed. Teasing me for what I did once before.
Then she said, "Okay, for real now."
She reached out again.
This time, I pulled back.
Her hand swung past.
I smiled.
Then we both reached out again—and finally dapped. We said goodbye. I walked away smiling.
And then came the exam.
I walked into the room first. Sat down. Tried to keep my head clear. Minutes later, she came in. My eyes met hers for just one second. She smiled.
I smiled too—but only for a second.
The moment she looked away, I dropped the smile. It wasn't real. Not anymore.
After the exam ended, I tried to keep my distance. Tried to act normal, like nothing ached.
But as she passed me, she spoke.
"How was it?"
The first thing she'd said to me in a long while.
I said, "It was alright."
But deep down, it wasn't.
I know one day we'll end up in the same room again.
Maybe in art class. The place where it all began.
Maybe we'll talk again. Maybe not.
But when I'm close to her and silent, my heart aches. When I talk to her, it feels warm. And when I'm far… I can finally breathe.
I still care about her.
But I know I need to let her go.
Yes… K started my pain.