It started with laughter.
The kind that came unexpectedly, tumbling out of Tasha's lips as Adam recited a wildly exaggerated story about getting chased by a rooster in his kampung when he was ten. She clutched her stomach, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, while he grinned, pleased with himself.
Their second official date had no fancy plans—just a walk in the park, two cups of iced teh tarik, and a bench under a massive angsana tree. Yet, it felt like the world had melted away, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of sunlight and slow, fluttering feelings.
"I haven't laughed like that in a long time," she admitted, wiping her eyes.
Adam tilted his head, studying her with that same boyish charm that made her heart flutter. "Then I'll make it my mission to keep it going. Every day."
Tasha smiled, pretending to roll her eyes, but inside—something sparkled.
It became routine.
Every morning, Adam would wait outside her apartment, leaning casually against his dark grey car with two cups of coffee in hand—hers, always black, no sugar.
"Good morning, sunshine," he'd say with a wink, as she rolled her eyes and slipped into the passenger seat.
He insisted on driving her to college, even if it meant adjusting his schedule. She protested at first, but eventually gave in. There was something comforting about starting her day with his easy banter and the soft music playing from his stereo.
Sometimes, he'd walk her up to the gate, earning amused glances from her friends.
"Is that your boyfriend or your personal chauffeur?" her best friend, Nadia, teased one morning, nudging Tasha playfully.
"Neither," Tasha replied, biting back a smile. "He's... just Adam."
But everyone could see it. The way her eyes softened when he was around. The way he looked at her like she was the center of his orbit.
Afternoons were filled with phone calls, memes, and lunch dates squeezed between lectures. Evenings brought more of him—sometimes they met at cafés, other times at parks, occasionally just driving around the city with no destination in mind.
One Friday evening, Tasha invited him to dinner at her home. Her younger brother kept staring at Adam like he was a puzzle, while her mother kept raising her eyebrows every time Tasha laughed at something he said.
"He's polite," her mother whispered in the kitchen. "And funny. I like him."
Tasha didn't say anything, just smiled as she stirred the curry.
Later that night, after Adam left, her brother grinned and asked, "Is he going to be my brother-in-law?"
Tasha threw a cushion at him and escaped to her room, heart racing—for reasons she couldn't name.
That weekend, it was her turn to meet Adam's family.
He picked her up early, wearing a crisp button-down shirt and his usual confident smile.
"You nervous?" he asked, noticing her fidgeting fingers.
"No," she lied.
He laughed. "Don't worry. Rose will love you. Roger might pretend to be intimidating, but he's all bark. And my dad… well, just don't talk about football. He gets emotional."
Tasha blinked. "Why?"
"Long story. Something about a lost championship in 1982."
They both laughed, and by the time they reached his house, she felt strangely calm.
His sister Rose greeted her at the door with a hug and an instant connection—warm, stylish, and full of stories about Adam's embarrassing childhood. Roger, his older brother, gave her a mock-serious once-over before grinning and offering her a drink. And his father—tall, stern-looking, but surprisingly kind—spoke to her with quiet respect.
It was a lovely afternoon, filled with food, stories, and laughter. Tasha hadn't felt that comfortable in a stranger's home in a long time.
As Adam walked her to the car, he squeezed her hand and whispered, "They really like you."
She looked up at him. "I like them too."
He smiled. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
The days passed like a dream. The kind you never wanted to wake up from.
From lazy Sunday mornings with croissants and messy hair, to midnight drives with soft music and open windows, their lives began to intertwine.
They weren't in love yet—but they were getting there. Steadily. Sweetly.
And neither of them wanted it to end.
_____
Tasha wasn't sure when it stopped being "just dating." There hadn't been a single moment that marked the change—no grand declarations or carefully rehearsed words. It was in the small things.
Like how Adam always waited until she was done talking before responding.
Or how he carried an extra umbrella in his car—just in case it rained on her way home.
Or the way he remembered her schedule better than she did.
They hadn't said I love you yet, but it lingered in every glance, every touch, every goodbye that felt harder than the last.
One Wednesday afternoon, Adam showed up outside her college gates holding a bouquet of yellow tulips.
"Tulips?" she asked, eyes wide. "What's the occasion?"
"No occasion," he said, grinning. "You just seemed like a tulip girl today."
She took the flowers, laughing as her friends swooned in the background.
"I swear you're making the rest of us look bad," Nadia called out.
Adam simply winked. "Raise your standards, ladies."
That weekend, Adam invited Tasha to a small garden party hosted by his father. It was an annual thing—something his father did to reconnect with old friends and business contacts.
Tasha wore a soft blue sundress, her hair tied in a loose bun, unsure if she looked too casual or too formal. But the moment Adam saw her, his jaw dropped slightly.
"You look..." he paused, eyes tracing every feature with a kind of awe that made her blush. "...like I might fall in love with you."
She shook her head, trying to laugh it off—but her chest tightened. There it was again, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was turning into something real.
The garden party was elegant but relaxed. His father introduced her with pride in his eyes. Roger gave her a teasing salute from across the lawn, and Rose pulled her aside to chat about her latest vacation.
They all made her feel like she belonged. Like she had always been a part of their story.
Later that night, Adam and Tasha sat on the steps behind the house, where the fairy lights didn't quite reach, and the crickets sang in the background.
Adam leaned back on his palms, looking up at the stars. "Do you ever wonder why certain people just... click?"
Tasha turned to look at him, her voice soft. "Like us?"
He nodded. "It's strange. I barely knew you a month ago, but now... I can't imagine a day without you."
Her breath caught in her throat. The same words had echoed in her own heart more than once—but hearing them aloud, in his voice, made them feel real.
"Adam..."
He looked at her, eyes searching.
She reached for his hand. "I feel it too."
Their days blurred into a rhythm of love—meals shared in cozy corners of the city, spontaneous karaoke nights in the car, quiet evenings at home spent reading or doing nothing at all.
One night, while video calling from bed, Adam suddenly said, "I want you to meet my mum someday."
Tasha's brows lifted. "I thought you never talked about her."
"I don't. But with you, it feels right. Like maybe I'm ready."
She didn't push. She simply smiled. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be there."
He nodded, visibly moved.
And in that moment, with their faces glowing in the dim light of their phones, it no longer felt like a new relationship. It felt like they had known each other in another life. And this was just the second chance they'd been waiting for.
Tasha started journaling again. Not out of pain, like she used to—but out of joy.
"He makes me feel seen. Chosen. Like I matter in ways I didn't even know I needed."
As the semester picked up pace, her friends noticed the change in her.
"You're glowing," Nadia teased one afternoon as they walked to class.
Tasha smiled without denying it. "I'm happy."
"You think it's love?"
Tasha looked away, cheeks flushing. "I think it might be."
And maybe it was.
Because when Adam held her hand in a crowd, when he kissed her forehead after dropping her off, when he whispered sweet nothings into her hair while hugging her from behind—it felt like everything in the world had aligned to bring him to her.
It felt like fate.
It felt like home.
It felt like love.
_____
The breeze was cool that Sunday evening, soft against Tasha's skin as she leaned against Adam's shoulder, their fingers loosely interlocked. They sat on a rooftop café, watching the Kuala Lumpur skyline blush under the dying sun.
Everything should have felt perfect.
But something was... different.
Adam's arm was around her, warm and steady, but his eyes weren't on the view. Or her. They were distant, fixed on some quiet thought he didn't want to share.
Tasha tilted her head to glance at him. "You okay?"
He blinked, then smiled—but it felt just a little late. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About what?"
He hesitated. "Nothing important."
She let it go, telling herself not to overthink. He was probably tired. Everyone had off days. But still… the silence between them lingered a second longer than usual. Long enough for her to notice.
The next morning, Adam didn't text her good morning like he usually did.
Tasha stared at her phone longer than she meant to, then shook her head and laughed to herself. It's not a big deal. He's probably just busy.
She sent him a voice note anyway.
"Hey sleepyhead. Hope you didn't forget your most important job today—annoying me."
He replied after an hour.
"Haha. Sorry, got caught up with something. Talk soon."
No heart. No teasing emoji. Just plain words.
It was still Adam. But... something had changed.
That week, they still met every day. Had lunch together. Shared jokes. Laughed. But something had shifted.
Sometimes, she'd be talking excitedly about a class project or a new café she wanted to visit, and Adam would nod, smiling politely—but his eyes would be elsewhere. He'd space out for just a second too long. And then return, like flipping a switch.
She didn't call him out. She wasn't even sure what she'd say. He wasn't being cold or rude. He was still kind, still thoughtful.
Just… distracted.
Friday evening, they went out for dinner. A quiet little restaurant near the lake—her idea. The lights were soft and golden, the music mellow. But midway through the meal, Adam's phone vibrated.
He checked it quickly, then placed it face down on the table. Tasha caught the flash of something on his face—concern, maybe? Or frustration?
"Everything okay?" she asked gently.
He nodded. "Yeah. Just my dad. I'll call him later."
She smiled and nodded, pretending not to notice that he barely touched his food after that.
After dinner, as he walked her to the car, the air between them felt warm but still—not alive the way it used to be.
He held her hand. Kissed her forehead. Said all the right things. But when she looked into his eyes, there was a flicker of something she couldn't read.
Uncertainty? Distraction? Guilt?
No, she told herself. Don't ruin something good with your thoughts. He's here. He's trying. That's what matters.
Still, as she laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, a quiet ache curled into her chest.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Just... a pause. Like waiting for a song to start again after the music has stopped.
To Be Continued....