Elysia Fernandez stared at the glow of her laptop screen, where bits of code danced like constellations against the dark backdrop. Across the endless realm of keyboards and chat windows, she found herself wondering if love could truly exist in the virtual space—a place where reality blurred into curated profiles and elusive promises.
Her heart clung stubbornly to the melodies of the past. Haranas, the serenades her grandfather sang to her grandmother, were more than songs; they were odes to a love that stood resolute against the tide of time. Her grandmother's stories painted love as something tangible, enduring—a stark contrast to the fleeting connections born from swipes and clicks.
Yet here she was, at the urging of her best friends, creating a profile on a dating app. The irony was not lost on her. Love, once a poetic serenade, now reduced to algorithms matching interests and geographic locations. But Elysia was no stranger to irony. After all, her own love life had been a symphony of missed notes: three exes, three lessons in disillusionment. She smirked at the memory of her third ex—a rockstar wannabe whose promises broke as easily as his guitar strings.
Tonight, however, marked a turning point. As she entered her details into the app, she hesitated at the question: What are you looking for?
Her fingers hovered before typing: Something real.