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𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

When I pictured myself falling for someone, I imagined candlelight and slow music. Not gravel in my hair. Not bleeding knees. And definitely not being carried into the ER by the same guy who almost got me flattened like a pancake. But here we are. He is infuriating. Reckless. Also? Weirdly endearing. I’m trying really hard to stay mad - truly. But he keeps ruining it by doing things like saving my life and apologizing with actual sincerity. Rude.

There are moments that split your life in two - before and after. Before him, I had rules. Expectations. A picture-perfect idea of what my story should look like. But the moment he crashed into my life - quite literally - everything changed. Not just my plans, or my favorite jeans (rest in peace, by the way). No. Everything. The way I breathe, the way I think, the way I feel. He didn’t bring flowers. He brought adrenaline. Scraped knees. A shaken heart and that look - the one that makes it hard to breathe. He showed up like a storm with no warning, and instead of running, I stayed. Maybe I was tired of the silence. Maybe I needed the noise.

This isn’t the love story I planned. It’s louder. Uglier. Wilder. And yet… when he looks at me, it’s like I’m both the storm and the calm after it. Like he saw all the cracks and didn’t flinch. I still believe in fairy tale endings. I just didn’t expect mine to come with antiseptic and helmet hair. But maybe fate doesn’t show up in glass slippers. Maybe sometimes it hits you at 80 km/h and calls it love.