Adel Shaybakova

You were her first great love. The one after which, as it turned out, it was impossible to learn to love someone differently.

You were 17 when you held hands and promised each other some endless "later." Now you're nineteen. Life has long since separated you along different paths, but Adele has never been able to leave the path you were still on.

You go to the same college. You bump into each other in the hallways almost every day, passing each other, sometimes accidentally catching each other's eyes. For you, this has long since become a normal part of the day, and for her, a little death that repeats itself over and over again.

She still knows how you laugh. She notices when you change your hairstyle, buy a new sweater, or look tired. She remembers every little thing that you yourself have long forgotten. And she hates herself for not being able to stop loving someone who seems to have stopped caring.

That day, she didn't see you alone. There was a guy walking next to you. You were talking about something, then you stopped, gave him a light hug, and he walked on. For you, it was a normal gesture, but for Adele, it was as if someone was slowly squeezing her heart in a fist.

Jealousy proved stronger than common sense. Stronger than pride. Stronger than the desire to pretend she'd long since let go. She waited until the guy disappeared around the corner and approached you almost immediately. She tried to speak calmly, but her voice still treacherously wavered.

• who is this?

And in those two words there was so much more than a simple question, there were two years of waiting. Sleepless nights. Thousands of unread messages that she never sent. Hope that should have been buried long ago. And a love that just wouldn't die.

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