A week after our interaction at the fresher's party,
something happened that I still consider one of the most unexpected moments of
my life: Lilian asked me out.
Yes—she asked me. Not the other way around. I was stunned. Not because girls hadn't
shown interest in me before—they had. I'd been asked out several times by girls
from our school and even other universities. I have my lockers full of gifts
and love letters since kindergarten. But Lilian? Lilian Smith? The girl
everyone referred to as the most beautiful on campus? The same Lilian who
seemed to float through conversations with effortless grace, who had become
somewhat of a myth even before school officially started? Her asking me out was
a kind of shock that left me speechless.
In the days following the fresher's party, Lilian
and I had grown surprisingly close. bit by bit. Nothing dramatic. No
love-at-first-sight kind of moment. It was subtle—like the kind of connection
that creeps in when you're not even looking for it. It was a gradual thing, not
some whirlwind romance. Despite being in different departments—I in finance,
she in arts—we found reasons to talk, to text, to spend a little time together
after lectures. We didn't have much in common when it came to our interests or ambitions.
I lived in numbers, market trends, legacy planning, and corporate futures, and
a cold world. She lived in stories, theatre scripts, poetry, and emotional
realism with a warm world full of flowers and sunshine. Our worlds barely
touched. But we were curious about each other. And that curiosity turned into
comfort. There was something easy about being around her, even when we were
just sitting silently on opposite sides of a bench.
We had different classes, different friends,
different worlds. Yet, somehow, we kept ending up in the same spaces. A quick
"hi" turned into longer chats. Casual meetings became routine.
At first, it was small things. Random conversations
in the library. Light-hearted banter during campus events. Occasional texts are
exchanged after class. And though we were very different people, there was a
kind of natural rhythm between us—one that neither of us tried too hard to
maintain, but that kept moving forward anyway.
Looking back, I can't say we were in love at that
point. That would be dishonest. But we both definitely had something—an
unspoken connection, a growing warmth. We enjoyed each other's company more
than we admitted out loud. It was just enough to keep pulling us closer. And
that was what made her sudden confession so shocking.
We had just finished grabbing lunch at a quiet café
off campus. She'd just finished rehearsal, still dressed in casual rehearsal
clothes—hair tied up, skin glowing with sweat and sunshine. And I had skipped a
finance club meeting just to hang out with her. We were talking about something
random, laughing about something meaningless, She was unusually quiet that day.
I assumed she was tired or distracted. Then she looked straight at me across
the table and said, without any buildup, "I want to date you."
Just like that. No drama. No teasing. No games.
I blinked. "Wait… what?"
She didn't smile. She didn't laugh it off. She
looked straight at me and repeated herself "I'm asking you out," she repeated,
as casually as if she were commenting on the weather. "I want to try a
relationship with you," she repeated, her voice calm and completely serious. as
casually as if she were offering me a ride home.
Now, let's be clear—Lilian isn't the first girl to
ever ask me out. And I know she won't be the last. I've had my fair share of
interest from women. With my family name, my looks, my academic achievements,
and the reputation I had from topping the national exam, I was used to
attention. I wasn't new to being liked. But this—this was different.
Because it was Lilian.
We had just finished grabbing lunch at a quiet café
off campus. She'd just finished rehearsal, still dressed in casual rehearsal
clothes—hair tied up, skin glowing with sweat and sunshine. And I had skipped a
finance club meeting just to hang out with her. We were talking about something
random, laughing about something meaningless, She was unusually quiet that day.
I assumed she was tired or distracted. Then she looked straight at me across
the table and said, without any buildup, "I want to date you."
Just like that. No drama. No teasing. No games.
I blinked. "Wait… what?"
She didn't smile. She didn't laugh it off. She
looked straight at me and repeated herself "I'm asking you out," she repeated,
as casually as if she were commenting on the weather. "I want to try a
relationship with you," she repeated, her voice calm and completely serious. as
casually as if she were offering me a ride home.
Now, let's be clear—Lilian isn't the first girl to
ever ask me out. And I know she won't be the last. I've had my fair share of
interest from women. With my family name, my looks, my academic achievements,
and the reputation I had from topping the national exam, I was used to
attention. I wasn't new to being liked. But this—this was different.
Because it was Lilian. of beauty that made people stare, even when she wasn't trying.
Graceful. Confident. Mysterious. She stood out without needing to do anything
at all. She had a presence that couldn't be ignored, and everyone on campus
knew it. Even girls who didn't like her respected her. And what made her even
more compelling was the fact that she didn't seem to care. She didn't chase
attention. She didn't flaunt anything. She just was, and people noticed.
So when someone like her asked me out—openly,
plainly, without any games or hints—it stunned me. Most girls, even if they
liked you, would never say it. Especially not the beautiful ones. Even when
they're clearly interested, they'd rather die than say it out loud. They drop
hints, laugh at your jokes a little too long, maybe "accidentally" bump into
you, but they don't spell it out. They'd flirt, smile more than usual, maybe
drop subtle signs—but they'd never outright confess. Pride always gets in the
way. Growing up in privilege, I was used to admiration. Some girls flirted
boldly. Others played the long game. I knew how to read those signs.