How I Fell in Love With a Girl I’ve Never Even Spoken To

Love is a strange, delicate thing.

It doesn’t always arrive loudly. Sometimes it doesn’t come with fireworks, grand gestures, or mutual confessions. Sometimes, it’s just a quiet feeling that grows slowly inside your chest until one day, you realize it’s love—and you’ve never even said a word to her.

This is a story about that kind of love.

There’s a girl in my school.

We’re classmates in only one subject—Business Law. That’s our only technical connection. We don’t share friend groups. We’ve never been grouped for a project. We’ve never had even the smallest of conversations. Not even a “hi.” And yet, she’s taken up so much space in my heart.

I first noticed her because of how different she was—not in a way that tries to stand out, but in a way that *can’t help* but stand out.

She always wears a mask. I don’t know what she really looks like underneath, but somehow, that mystery makes her even more fascinating. Her eyes say enough. They’re calm, distant, observant. There’s always this quiet intensity in them, like her thoughts are galaxies away from here.

Her hair is long—like, really long—and always looks effortlessly perfect. Not in the styled, Instagram-influencer kind of way. More like she just lets it be. It flows naturally, as if it has a personality of its own. It’s wild and soft at the same time, like her presence.

She’s almost always alone, and never seems to mind. I’ve seen her sitting by herself in the hallway between classes, headphones in, completely in her own world. Not the lonely kind of alone—the *at peace* kind of alone. Like she’s not escaping the world, just choosing to exist outside of it for a while.

She always has a book in her hand. I don’t even know what genres she reads, but I imagine they’re stories with meaning—spiritual, poetic, philosophical, even a little mystical. I always wonder what thoughts are racing through her mind when she flips the pages. I imagine her reading under a tree, writing in her journal, sipping tea in a cozy café, listening to music that speaks to her soul.

Ah yes, the music.

She wears wired earphones—not Bluetooth ones, not fancy AirPods, just the classic wired kind. There’s something old-school and real about that. Something sincere. Like she cares more about the experience than the trend. Every time I see her bobbing her head slightly, I wonder what she’s listening to. Could it be mellow indie? Maybe lo-fi beats? Or is she secretly into old-school rock? Maybe she’s like me—finding comfort in dreamy, emotional lyrics. I like to believe that if I ever got the courage to ask, we’d have at least one favorite song in common.

I don’t know much about her personal life. I don’t know who she hangs out with, or what her laugh sounds like, or what her hobbies are beyond what I’ve seen. But I do know this: she’s brilliant. Every time she participates in class, her answers are well-thought-out, insightful, and mature. You can tell she reads a lot and sees the world in a deeper way than most. She doesn’t just *study*—she *understands*.

And she dresses in a way that’s so uniquely her. Her fashion isn’t trendy in the way influencers are trendy. It’s expressive. Every outfit she wears feels intentional, like it’s saying something without speaking. Maybe it’s her way of communicating with the world, subtly showing her personality in colors and fabrics. Sometimes I catch myself just admiring her outfits—not in a shallow way, but because it feels like looking at a living painting. A walking poem.

I think the first time I truly realized how much I liked her was during a quiet afternoon.

I was at my favorite small restaurant near campus. It’s not a place that’s usually packed—just a humble little spot with good food, soft lighting, and a peaceful vibe. I love going there alone when I need to think. I was eating quietly, enjoying the stillness, when the door opened... and there she was.

I remember freezing for a moment. I wasn’t expecting her. I didn’t even think she’d be the type to go to that kind of place. But there she was—calm as ever, walking in like she belonged there. And the universe, in its mysterious way, decided to make my heart race even more: she sat down right next to me. Not directly across, but on the table beside mine, just a few feet away. Close enough that I could hear the soft click of her spoon, close enough to catch the scent of her perfume—subtle, sweet, and calming, like lavender and old books.

I wanted to say something. Anything. A casual “Hey, I think we’re classmates,” or even a dumb joke about the food. But I didn’t. I was frozen in the moment, overwhelmed by how unreal it felt. She didn’t even look my way—and that was fine. Just being that close to her felt like the universe giving me a tiny gift. A moment I could treasure, even if it didn’t mean anything to her.

It felt like a date that never happened. A silent one-sided dream.

Since that day, I’ve found myself imagining little things.

I imagine what it would be like to walk beside her, headphones shared, listening to the same song.

I imagine what it would be like to sit across from her in that same restaurant, both of us smiling shyly as we talk about books or music or the meaning of the stars.

I imagine her laughing. I imagine her telling me about her favorite song and why it makes her feel things. I imagine her letting me read one of her journal entries. I imagine her voice—gentle, maybe a little quiet, but full of thought.

I don’t know if any of this will ever happen.

Maybe she’ll graduate without ever knowing I existed. Maybe someone else will capture her heart before I ever find the courage to speak. Maybe this story will remain just that—a story. A memory. A what-if.

But still, I’m grateful for how she makes me feel.

She reminds me that love doesn’t always need to be returned to be real. Sometimes, just admiring someone from afar can open up parts of your own heart you didn’t know existed. Sometimes, a quiet crush can be the most beautiful kind of love—gentle, respectful, dreamlike.

I hope one day I’ll gather the courage to say something. To ask her what she’s listening to. To compliment her book. To tell her that she’s one of the most interesting people I’ve ever seen without ever really knowing her.

But until then, I’ll keep admiring her from a distance.

And maybe, just maybe, the universe is saving something special for us.

Even if it’s just one conversation. One smile. One shared song.

That would be enough for me.