“Do youseriouslybelieve Marlon still likes Christine? Come on.”
“They go on lunches and stuff now!”
“They’re just catching up!”
I wish I could believe that, but still. Christine is Marlon’s ex. They share a history. She’s his first girlfriend, and that’ll alwayscount for something. Ria steps forward, placing a comforting hand on my forearm.
“You and Marlon are something else entirely, Jaslene. Trust me. He wants you. I’m certain of it.”
It is along this same sentiment that Kiara and Diane hold when I update them over a group chat video once I’m home.
“Iknewit!” Kiara squeals, once I finally confess that I like Marlon.
“It was pretty obvious, butoh my gosh,” Diane says, giggling.
All their words fill me to the brim with this innate hope that I’ve harboured all throughout my life.
It’s the same hope that has me believing in fairytale endings. It’s also the same hope that had me fall at the wrong feet.
I want to believe so badly that Marlon is different. That the connection he and I share is real. It’s no question that this hope, these feelings, don’t compare to the boys that I’d liked before, but they’d all been preparing me for him.
I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve, and the boys I once liked laughed at me for it. Rejected me ruthlessly, Transformed me into a joke.
All in an attempt to pry the heart from sight, to shield everyone else from the love I carry so graciously on me like a precious accessory.
I never fell victim to them. I always pushed through.
The secret though, is that I’ve always fallen in love with the fantasy. So what happens now, that I’ve fallen for his reality?
Marlon and I haven’t really spoken all day. I’d typed out and deleted multiple renditions ofgood morning, before Church, with one option including a <3, but I quickly backtracked, losing momentum. He hasn’t texted me either. Maybe he’s busy.
Or maybe he realised he doesn’t like you.
I tear the thought from my head, but the fear of it still lingers.
It’s easy to have feelings. It’s easy to doodle names inside the margins of your notebook. To daydream of what ifs.
Yet, now that I’m facing the reality of my fairytale day dream coming true, I’ve never been more scared.
How do I make the love stay?
“What’s wrong darling?” Mum asks at the dinner table. I’d been flipping my chicken schnitzel over on its plate for the last two minutes. I must’ve zoned out.
I give her what I hope is an assuring smile.
“Nothing,” I tell her.
“Did you and Marlon have a fight?” she asks. Her brows draw in, and it’s the first time that I’ve heard a tone of uncertainty on the topic of Marlon and I.
I shake my head. The only thing I’m fighting is myself.
“You know, it’s normal to have fights,” Dad chimes in, from across the dining table. He pokes at Mum with his fork. “Isn’t it, mahal?”
Mum rolls her eyes, but the affection is evident on her lips. It’s true. Mum and Dad argue, not often, but enough to remind me that even the perfect love stories aren’t clean from fights and arguments.
“You know, your Mum used to break up with me all the time,” Dad continues. “When we were freshly dating, she would break up with me once a week. Always over the phone, over little things.”
Mum slaps at Dad’s hand softly, and they both chuckle. I raise a brow.
