Eli's life was comfortable in its own dull way—work, eat, sleep. Repeat. There wasn't much excitement, and certainly no romance. But every night, as the day wound down, Eli would curl up in bed, a warm blanket wrapped around her, and dive into the worlds of K-dramas. The bright lights, the emotional confessions, the dramatic misunderstandings—she loved it all.
"Why can't I have something like that?" she often wondered, staring at the screen with longing.
But it was a thought she had buried long ago. She used to pray for a K-drama kind of love. But after years of unanswered prayers and unfulfilled dreams, she stopped asking.
"Maybe love stories are for other people, not for someone like me," she murmured softly into her pillow one night.
Her brown skin glowed under the soft light of her laptop, a reminder that she was just a regular girl, living a life that seemed to pass her by. The rejection she feared and the loneliness she fought against were constants in her life. She never felt particularly pretty or special. She kept to herself, avoiding the sting of disappointment that always seemed just around the corner.
Then one day, a sudden burst of courage overwhelmed Eli.
"I'm going to do something crazy," she told herself, packing her bags for a solo trip to Lisbon. The city was a beautiful blend of history, culture, and adventure. Surely, something could happen there—something unexpected, something real.
But as she wandered the cobbled streets, snapping pictures of the beautiful scenery, a quiet ache remained in her chest. Lisbon was lovely, yes. But it was still... just another city. Another place to feel lost.
It was in a park, as the sun started to set, that she saw him.
Miguel was impossible to miss. Tall, dark-skinned, with a laugh that seemed to echo across the park, he was surrounded by friends, his energy lighting up the space around him. He was everything Eli wasn't—loud, charismatic, and unafraid to take up space.
Eli's heart skipped a beat when she noticed him, but she kept walking, pretending not to see him.
"Just a stranger," she thought. "Just keep walking."
But what Eli didn't know was that Miguel had noticed her too.
Her quiet, understated presence had caught his eye. There was something about her, something that intrigued him. But he didn't approach her—not yet.
Back in London, Eli settled back into her predictable routine. Life felt as dull as it always had. Work. Eat. Sleep. And, of course, K-dramas.
But then, one day, she walked into a small shop, and there he was again. Miguel.
Her heart raced as she froze in place, staring at him from across the room.
"What is he doing here?" she thought, her mind scrambling for an explanation. But there was no explanation.
Before she could turn and leave, Miguel spotted her. He gave her a warm smile that seemed to light up the room, and then—"Hey!"
Eli froze. "Oh no."
"Weren't you in Lisbon?" Miguel asked, his voice casual, like they were old friends. He took a few steps closer, still smiling, making Eli's heart beat faster.
"I… uh, yeah, I was," she managed to say, her face turning slightly red.
"I thought I recognized you!" He chuckled. "Small world, huh?"
Eli nodded, but she didn't know what to say next. Her head was spinning, and all she wanted was to escape. But there was no escaping Miguel now.
From that day on, Miguel was impossible to avoid. He was persistent, always popping up in places where Eli never expected to see him. Coffee shops. The grocery store. Even in the park near her house.
Miguel was charming, funny, and full of life, but Eli kept her distance. She wasn't ready for someone like him. She didn't think she deserved someone like him.
"You know," Miguel said one evening as they sat at a café, "I have this theory that people are like tea. They can be strong, weak, sweet, or bitter. But when you meet someone who's just right, you know. And Eli, you're the perfect blend of sweet and strong."
Eli laughed awkwardly, but inside, she felt something warm stir in her chest.
"Thanks," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Days passed, and Miguel didn't give up. He kept asking her out, kept calling, kept showing up. He even gave her a nickname.
"Hey, sunshine," he said one afternoon, catching her by surprise. "I'm serious. You have this light about you, you know? Like the sun. Don't let it go out, alright?"
"Sunshine?" Eli blinked at him, a little stunned. "Is that what you're calling me now?"
"Yep," Miguel grinned. "It suits you."
She didn't know how to respond, but something inside her flickered. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to be called something special. For once, she felt like she mattered.
Then came the night that changed everything.
Miguel was drunk—too drunk to be walking around in the rain. Eli found him stumbling down the street, soaked to the bone, a lopsided grin on his face.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
"I was looking for you," he slurred, his eyes sparkling even though his words were heavy.
"You're going to catch a cold," Eli muttered, her protective instincts kicking in as she gently wrapped her arm around him to help him home.
Inside his small apartment, Miguel collapsed onto the couch, still grinning like a fool. Eli sat beside him, trying to ignore the way his nearness made her feel.
"Why don't you like me?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft, almost vulnerable.
Before she could answer, Miguel leaned in, his lips finding hers in a kiss that shocked her to her core. The world seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, time stopped. It was everything she had longed for, but it was also too much to process.
The next morning, Eli pretended nothing had happened.
"We were drunk," she muttered dismissively, avoiding Miguel's eyes as he looked at her with confusion and pain.
The days that followed were difficult. Miguel distanced himself, and Eli could feel the gap growing between them. She missed his presence, missed his humor, missed his energy.
She had always told herself she wasn't worthy of a love story like the ones she watched on TV, but now, sitting in the quiet of her apartment, Eli couldn't deny the truth anymore.
"I like him," she whispered to herself. "I always have."