I Didn't Mean to Like You

I still can't tell you when it happened.

There wasn't a single moment where the world slowed down and suddenly everything made sense. There were no fireworks, no dramatic realization, no grand confession waiting at the end of the day.

It was quieter than that.

It happened in the spaces between ordinary moments.

We met because life happened to place two transferees in the same classroom. At first, you were just another classmate.

The tall one.

The smart one.

The one who somehow managed to excel in academics, play volleyball, and sing like it was all second nature.

I noticed those things first because everyone else did.

But they were never the reason I stayed looking.

People would probably compliment your hazel eyes, the way they soften whenever you smile. Or maybe they'd mention your voice—that deep, gentle voice that somehow makes every conversation feel calmer than it really is.

They're all beautiful.

But they're not my favorite parts of you.

My favorite parts are the ones that happen when no one's paying attention.

It's the way you instinctively walk on the side closest to the road.

The way you buy me food whenever I don't feel okay, never making me feel guilty for accepting it.

The way you somehow notice the things I never have the courage to say out loud.

You make kindness look effortless.

Not because you're trying to impress anyone.

Simply because that's who you are.

There's one memory that keeps replaying in my head.

I used to hide my smile.

It became second nature after a while—laughing with my lips closed, covering my mouth without even realizing it. I convinced myself it was better that way.

You noticed.

You looked at me and said,

"Show them the pretty smile you have, wag mong itago 'yan."

You probably don't even remember saying it.

I do.

You didn't know how insecure I was about my teeth.

You didn't ask why I kept hiding my smile.

You didn't try to make a big speech about confidence.

You simply reminded me that there was something worth showing.

It was such a small sentence.

Yet somehow, it changed something inside me.

Even now, whenever I catch myself hiding my smile, I hear your voice before I hear my own thoughts.

"Wag mong itago 'yan."

Maybe you'll never know this, but you gave me a little confidence back that day.

I think that's when I started seeing you differently.

At first, I admired you because you were smart.

Then because your laugh was so gentle that I found myself waiting to hear it again.

Then because your smile became contagious enough to make me smile too.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped admiring what everyone else could see.

I started admiring the things only people close to you would notice.

How gentle you are.

How easygoing you make everyone feel.

How you struggle to say no because your heart is too kind to disappoint people.

You have this quiet way of making people feel seen.

And somehow...

You made me feel seen too.

If you were a season, you'd be summer—not because you're loud, but because even the most ordinary days seem warmer when you're around.

If you were the weather, you'd be one of those sunny afternoons that somehow follow days of endless rain.

If you were a flower, you'd be a dandelion. Delicate enough for people to overlook, yet strong enough to travel farther than anyone expects.

If you were a color, you'd be blue.

Calm.

Familiar.

Comforting.

If you were a scent, you'd smell like flowers after the rain.

Fresh.

Gentle.

Peaceful.

And if you were a place...

You'd be home.

Not because home is perfect.

But because it's where my shoulders finally relax.

Where silence doesn't need to be filled.

Where I can exist exactly as I am without feeling like I have to hide pieces of myself.

I wasn't planning on writing about someone again.

I wasn't planning on liking someone.

Yet here I am, writing another page with your name hidden between every line, even though it never appears once.

Maybe these feelings will fade.

Maybe they'll grow into something I don't have the courage to name.

I don't know.

What I do know is this—

I didn't fall for the tallest boy in class.

Or the smartest.

Or the one with the pretty eyes and the beautiful voice.

I fell for the boy who made gentleness feel ordinary.

The boy who cared without expecting anything in return.

The boy who looked at someone who had spent years hiding her smile...

...and softly said,

"Show them the pretty smile you have, wag mong itago 'yan."

I don't think you ever realized it.

But I haven't looked at my smile the same way since.

until the next page,

with love,

azalea ♡