The day they met arrived far sooner than she expected.
Linda spent almost an hour deciding what to wear.
Not because she wanted to impress him.
But because she wanted to feel like herself.
She finally chose a simple white sweater, light blue jeans, and her favorite sneakers.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
“Please let him be the same person I’ve been talking to,” she whispered.
When she reached the meeting place, her heart pounded louder with every step.
She saw him before he saw her.
He was standing near a fountain, hands in his pockets, looking around with the same nervous expression she imagined she probably had.
Then…
their eyes met.
For a brief second…
everything around them disappeared.
The people.
The traffic.
The sounds.
Even time itself seemed to slow down.
Othamane smiled first.
Linda smiled back.
No awkward introductions were needed.
No uncomfortable silence.
No uncertainty.
It felt strangely natural.
As though they were simply continuing a conversation that had begun weeks earlier.
—
That afternoon lasted for hours.
They walked through the city without any destination.
They stopped at a small café.
Shared desserts.
Argued playfully about which movie deserved the title of the greatest ever made.
They laughed until strangers looked at them with amused smiles.
At one point, while crossing the street, Othamane instinctively reached for Linda’s hand.
She looked down.
Then at him.
Neither of them said anything.
Neither of them let go.
Something had quietly changed.
—
After that first meeting, everything accelerated.
One date became two.
Two became five.
Five became countless afternoons together.
Every weekend brought a new adventure.
Sometimes they explored neighborhoods neither of them had visited before.
Sometimes they drove aimlessly with music playing loudly through the speakers.
Sometimes they spent hours sitting beside the sea, talking about dreams they had never shared with anyone else.
Othamane had an incredible ability to make ordinary days unforgettable.
Buying ice cream became an adventure.
Walking through the rain became romantic.
Even waiting for the bus somehow turned into one of their favorite memories because they spent the entire time laughing over stories from childhood.
Linda often caught herself smiling for no reason.
People noticed.
Her friends noticed.
Even her parents noticed.
“You seem happier lately,” her mother said one evening.
Linda simply smiled.
She didn’t know how to explain it.
How could she describe what it felt like to meet someone who made life seem lighter?
—
Their conversations became deeper with every passing day.
They no longer spoke only about hobbies or favorite songs.
They spoke about fear.
About childhood memories.
About mistakes they regretted.
About people who had broken their trust.
About dreams they had never dared to tell anyone.
Linda told him about nights when she questioned herself.
About moments she felt lost.
About the pressure she sometimes placed on her own shoulders.
Othamane listened without interrupting.
Without judging.
Without trying to solve everything.
Sometimes he simply said,
“I’m here.”
And somehow…
those two words were enough.
In return, Othamane slowly revealed parts of himself he usually kept hidden.
His disappointments.
His insecurities.
The responsibilities he carried.
The dreams he feared might never become reality.
Together, they discovered that vulnerability wasn’t weakness.
It was trust.
—
Four months passed almost without either of them realizing it.
Those months became the happiest chapter Linda had ever lived.
Her phone gallery filled with thousands of photos.
Pictures of sunsets.
Coffee cups.
Funny faces.
Mirror selfies.
Long walks.
Tiny handwritten notes.
And countless candid moments where one of them had captured the other laughing unexpectedly.
But Linda loved one tradition more than any other.
Every few weeks they visited a small photo booth tucked inside an old shopping center.
They squeezed together inside the narrow booth.
Made ridiculous faces.
Laughed between flashes.
Pretended to be serious.
Failed every single time.
Moments later, the machine printed four tiny photographs.
Linda carefully kept every strip.
Back home, she pinned each one to the wall above her desk.
Soon the wall transformed into a mosaic of memories.
Every picture represented another chapter.
Another laugh.
