When Eyes Finally Spoke!

I had been ready for three days. Not just prepared, but ready in that boyish, heart-thumping, countdown-watching kind of way. You know, the silly hope of saying 'Main Tera' on May 13 just to make her smile at the pun. I had it planned. I thought I was ahead. But she was a step ahead of me. At 10 AM, she messaged, “Up for meeting today?”

God. That sentence. I had imagined it, rehearsed it in my head for over ten days. And now it was real. “What time suits you?” she asked.

Now that … was complicated.

I was down to my last wearable outfit. The laundry stared at me like a judgmental parent. My phone was dying. I had no cash. I had to cook. Eat. Shave. Walk to a bus stop 15 minutes away. And be there, spotless, on time. I told her 4 PM.

But of course, fate had plans.

All hell breaks loose!

At 2 PM, I got an unexpected call - a phone screening from a company HR. Forty-five minutes later, I was pacing around, somehow-dressed, barely groomed, nowhere close to being out. I forced myself out of the house at 3.

Then it hit me.

The Gift!

How could I forget the one thing that should’ve been in my hand before anything else? I rushed into Sainsbury's like a man on fire, sweeping chocolates off the shelves, not knowing her favorite, not caring — just hoping she'd find something sweet in the gesture. Then I bought a bag from Miniso to carry them all. It was 3:40 PM.

I ran to catch the bus. “Will this stop at Edinburgh Park?” I asked. He nodded. I believed him. Fifteen minutes later, I was dropped off… at some other park. 3:55 PM. I get her call. “Are you reaching?” My heart dropped into my stomach. I mumbled something about traffic and promised I’d be there by 5:15. An hour and fifteen minutes late. I was on the edge of my own patience — ashamed, anxious, spiraling. A kind driver, breaking protocol, offered to drop me near her stop. Hope sparked again. I finally reached at 5:20 PM.

And she stood there. Smiling. Not a word about my delay. Not even a look of disappointment. Just a smile that forgave it all without needing to say anything.

“Where to go?” she asked. I froze. I hadn’t researched a single spot. I had spent the day surviving. And now I was here, in her presence, clueless. I suggested going back to the city center—yes, the place I started from at 3 PM—because at least there, I knew the streets. We got on a bus, and again, she said nothing. Just sat beside me, quiet, serene.

I watched her. Me — the talker, the chatterbox — was silent. I couldn’t stop listening to her voice whenever she spoke. It was soft. Unhurried. Like a stream that doesn’t want to draw attention but still glistens when you look. I was falling. I knew it.

At 6:30, we arrived in the city center and decided on coffee. I took her to The Milkman — rumored to have the best coffee in Edinburgh — only to realize they closed at 7. We rerouted. Walked for another hour. From the residence hall to Uplands Roast at The Meadows.

7:30 PM. Coffee at last. I had made her walk an hour without knowing, and she didn’t flinch. Not a wrinkle of complaint on her face. We found a bench and sat. Finally, I could breathe. Her presence — it melted something inside me. The way she just … existed. Calmly. Patiently. I think she found her comfort too, there on that wooden bench under the open sky.

At 8:40, we returned to the hall. Tried to play a game of pool. She beat me like it was nothing. And then came the last thirty minutes. The best thirty minutes I’ve had in what felt like forever. Something happened in that time. My eyes wouldn’t leave her. And hers—just once—looked into mine, and held the gaze. Just a second. Just enough. That was it. That was when the eyes spoke.

Something did happen to me!

I didn’t need to say I was happy, though I was bursting with it. I didn’t need to ask why she took so long to meet, though I wanted to. The answers were in the silence between us. The time flew. It always does when the heart is full. I offered her the chocolates. She denied gently. But her refusal wasn’t rejection — it was grace. And I understood. I had to earn my way in, not walk in with boxes and wrappers. I will. I promise I will.

I dropped her to the bus stop. The world felt unreal. I had just met someone with a beautiful soul wrapped in a beautiful calm, housed in a face that could stop time. That night, and for many after, I couldn’t sleep. My head was quiet, but my heart wouldn’t stop speaking.

I know she’s guarded. I know her history. The long relationships, the deep connections. She doesn’t take leaps; she takes steps. She walks slow, listens long, trusts only when the storm inside her has quieted down.

And then there’s me—overwhelming, loud with feelings, reckless with emotion. But I’m learning. For her. Because losing her? I wouldn’t recover from that. I don’t even want to imagine it. It’s easy to ask, “How can you fall so fast after one meeting?” But when the heart sees something true, it doesn’t take time. It just dives.

I want to tell her, “Jaan, I’ll never give up on you. Even if I mess up, I’ll learn. I’ll stay. I’ll fight for us. I won’t raise my voice. I’ll raise my patience. I’ll talk through pain. I’ll wait through silence. I’ll be there.” Why her? Because she’s magic in the way she makes the world feel still. Because when I think of treating someone like royalty, only her face comes to mind. She deserves it all.

And sometimes, when I let my thoughts wander too far into what if I lose her, my eyes go wet, involuntarily. Quiet tears, no expression. Just ache. There’s no poetry perfect enough to tell her why her. Or how much. Or for how long. But maybe that’s what makes it so special — it’s beyond language.

I write all this here, on a corner of a page, because even with all the words I have, I know… it all began when I looked at her, and my eyes finally spoke with hers!