The Lone Wolf Writer’s Edition

I met her when she was a teenager. Although she’s trying to hide her wealth, she stood different from the crowd. Her eyes are observant, her face is angelic, her heart is soft and her name is Saint Gatchalian.

I met her when I was nothing.

I don’t have a name. I don’t have a family. I don’t have anything to offer. The only thing I have is my growing feelings for her and my past, which I don’t want her to be dragged.

So, I did what I thought was best for her—I declined her friendship and pushed her away.

For years I stayed away and tried to build myself, but now I’m back. I questioned myself if I did what was best for her. If going away without looking back was the best thing I did, then why my heart aches when she smiles for another man?

Nathaniel Larrazabal