I loved him. The first time I lay my eyes on him was at my friend Karma’s house. He then had more of a rowdy looks of a teenager who hangs out in Thimphu town every night – knowing nothing better to do. But behind that, I could see in his eyes something more serious and deep. I kept wondering, “Why am I feeling that way when I’m with him?” For the few times I had to travel alone with him in his car, I had hard time finding nothing to say. I just felt too awkward and it was as if his presence was just so enormous that he occupied my seat as well.
Months passed. Years passed. Nothing happened. Friends started teasing. I think it was obvious that I felt something more than friendship. The best I could do was simply smile or tease someone back and not let my feelings show. I have never fallen in love before. I have no history of having dated any men. This made it easier for me to hide my feelings. I had never written a love letter in my life. I have always laughed when my friends cried missing their boyfriends. I simply couldn’t understand that missing someone would make you cry.
Then came the day when I had to say goodbye to him. He was going away to study—for a long time. It meant, another year will pass since I knew him. And I haven’t told him of my feelings yet. Am I getting late? Should I get bold and tell him, just once and for all? I thought I will not care what he thought of me; I thought, simply getting it out will cure me of the heartache I was quietly going through. But an unexpected gift awaited me. Two weeks before he was to leave, he told his friends that he was going to sell his car. I thought I should buy it. It is like, I thought, having his car, driving it by sitting exactly where he sat would give me warmth even if he didn’t love me; even if he was so far away. And so I decided to buy it. I arranged the money. And I talked to him.
I wouldn’t even have dreamed in the sweetest, most beautiful dream I ever had of what awaited me. He left his car with me and, his words were, “When I come back, I want both you and the car. I don’t know if you will consider me good enough for a husband, but there is no rush. Mail me.”
Now he is gone and I cry missing him. Every time I log in, I wish he were online. Every time my phone rings, I wish it were him calling. And every time, we talk of a gathering, I ache knowing that he wouldn’t be there. But if I could wait all those years and months without even letting him know what I was feeling inside, I know I can wait, when something more special like a love is guaranteed.