hello, stranger.

CHAPTER V

MATT

"hey matt, i'm uncertain about my exact feelings. does it cause me pain? am i angry? i'm not sure, but i'm experiencing a mix of emotions. i won't criticize you for your actions; i just need to express this to ease what i'm going through. you know, i saw this coming, but i ignored that feeling because i believed in your words. yet, you still did it. you could have at least told me instead of leaving me without an explanation. i can handle harsh truths; you know me. i opened up about my scars, only for you to worsen the situation. don't worry; i'll keep your secrets, but i hope you'll respect mine too (i still hope for a bit of trust from you). no one will know about us because i know you would be ashamed of it. my best friends already know about you, but you can trust them, i promise. if we ever cross paths again, i'll act like i never knew you. i'll erase everything about you. i apologize for taking up your time. i won't harbor any resentment because, despite your actions, i believe you're still a good person. i genuinely wish you the best and all the good things in life. you have my forgiveness. it hurts knowing will be strangers again."

Reading that letter from Aika, sent two years ago, brought a flood of memories. I met Aika on a dating app during my college days, a period when I was trying to move on from my ex. Aika, a nice, funny, and wise girl, caught my interest. We decided to meet at a coffee shop, starting things on a wholesome note, sharing secrets and building a connection. Feelings started to grow, but traces of my past lingered.

Aika surprised me one day by initiating a more physical aspect to our relationship. It became a routine – weekends at the coffee shop and then a hotel. Strangely, with her, I found a temporary escape from thoughts of my ex. She became my solace. Then, one day, she confessed, and I wasn't prepared. Shocked, I left her message on delivered for a week, unsure of how to respond. When she messaged me again, it hit me – she mattered more than I thought. I feared breaking her, so I gave her space to heal.

After finishing college, landing a job near the coffee shop we used to meet, memories of Aika resurfaced. I missed her, but checking her social media revealed she had unfriended me, a sign of her healing. I felt genuinely happy for her.

Visiting the coffee shop became a routine. I always sat in the same spot, leaving her chair empty, a silent acknowledgment of what we had. Then, two years later, a familiar girl approached. She had changed, her long black hair now cut short but undeniably cute. Holding a book and the familiar coffee, she called me a stranger, as promised in her last message. I went with the flow, almost laughing at the irony of it all.