MCE stretches endlessly before me, and somewhere between the rushing traffic and Marina Bay's glittering towers, my kopi-C grows cold.The sun bleeds orange into the water the same colors that seem to follow me everywhere in this city. I've learned that sunsets in Singapore are never just endings.They're reminders that light always returns.My life had a rhythm back then after a lectures, coffee with the same group, the comfortable hum of campus routines. nothing felt urgent either. I was moving through days.

Then one afternoon.A girl in her green T-shirt was wrinkled, the kind of worn-in comfort that spoke of rolling out of bed without concern for perfection. Her hair fell in an effortless tangle of someone who'd just pulled it into a ponytail while thinking about something else entirely.But it wasn't her appearance that stopped me.She was tired.You could see it in the soft edges of her features.Yet somehow,that made her radiant.While her friends chattered around her, she listened with her whole self.I found myself studying her the way you'd study a sunset with the quiet knowledge that you're witnessing something fleeting that deserves your full attention.While others scrolled through phones or performed their versions of themselves,she was there genuinely attending .She had this quality of deep listening,actually weighing your words,not just waiting for her turn to speak.There was an elegance in her selectivity, a confidence in knowing her own worth. She never apologized for her standards. She simply lived them.

I found excuses to understand her better and spend more time just being with her we began spending time together, and with every conversation,my feelings for her grew like roots I couldn't pull up even if I wanted to.Though I had a car and a bike,I chose to take public transport just to spend a few more moments with her.I'd watch her hurrying between lectures purposeful,like she was always chasing something worth catching.The breeze would make her hair slide across her face, and she'd brush it back with that unconscious grace of someone too busy living to worry about how she looked.Every moment with her felt alive.Not because anything extraordinary happened,but because with her, ordinary moments transformed.The way she'd find humor in a boring lecture. The way her eyes would light up when talking about books she was reading.The way she'd listen to my problems like they were the most important thing in the world.

She had real dreams not casual wishes.An MBA from somewhere prestigious.She spoke about it like it was destiny.she became beautiful when she was honest about wanting more.The day when i was heading to a crucial midterm when I saw her after her lecture, looking drained from hours of classes.I pulled over and asked if she wanted to go for a drive,her smile was answer enough.I drove slowly,wishing every traffic light to turn red to stretch those moments,shared silence of the ride, her presence right behind me .After reaching her hostel,parked and we sat there as the light began to change.that particular light in her eyes had become the most real thing in my life.

But I said nothing.There was always a reason to wait,And it grew heavier with each passing day a secret.The time we spent together the Sunsets became our language.We'd find ourselves in unplanned moments walking back from lectures,sitting by the water,driving through the city at dusk and I'd feel this sharp clarity that I was here, actually here, experiencing something real Not rushing toward the next achievement or obligation.Just being.

She taught me to taste things. Not just coffee or food, but moments.The way morning light fell differently depending on your mood.How a conversation with someone you care about can make ordinary food taste extraordinary. The specific warmth of laughter earned through genuine connection.She noticed beauty in smallness a particular shade of blue in the sky, the way rain sounded on leaves, how a friend's smile could transform an entire gathering.

I watched her with other people and realized something she made everyone feel seen genuinely.She remembered small details you'd mentioned weeks ago. She showed up for people.In a world obsessed with grand gestures,she proved that the most romantic thing a person could do was simply pay attention.Other beautiful women passed through my life. But none of them made me feel the way she did. With her, I wasn't performing a version of myself.I was becoming more of myself. More present.More alive.

Then came the day.I'd finally gathered the courage.The words were ready.But before I could speak,she turned with happiness she'd just learned about my admission to her Dream university I'd applied for.In her eyes, I wasn't just a friend.I was living proof that something beautiful she believed in was real. And in that moment.It felt selfish when she was so happy for others that she couldn't see I was quietly breaking she was someone so full of light that my small truth felt like it would dim hers.So I swallowed the words.She wished me congratulations,her smile as warm as ever,and then she turned and walked away, disappearing behind the trees toward the campus edge for her lecture And later her friend mentioned she was in a new relationship.The words landed like a gentle confirmation of something I'd already accepted. Her happiness was real. Her light was never mine to claim.

I've built a life now this new city, this international future, the dreams we'd talked about.The gains are immense.I'm living in a city of dreams because she showed me what dreaming looked like.I succeeded because she believed before I did.But they exist in a space she'll never fully inhabit, and that's the particular loneliness of achieving something with someone who can't celebrate it beside you.I hope she made it here too, to this city of dreams. I hope she's chasing and catching every one of hers.I hope he appreciates the way she listens, the way she makes people feel seen,the way she moves through the world like she's dancing with destiny.It's sunset again.I'm sitting alone in my car, watching Marina Bay turn gold and rose.The kopi-C is long cold.The traffic is almost peaceful.

Here's what I know now:I thought protecting her joy by staying silent was noble.I thought sacrificing my truth was the ultimate act of care.I was wrong.Not because I should have confessed maybe she needed to walk her own path,untethered to my feelings.But because I believed that love meant diminishing myself. That care meant concealing what was real.The people who matter, the ones whose light actually reaches you they deserve your real self. Not the protected version.Not the one carefully curated to keep peace.The full, flawed, feeling human that you are. She taught me that by example.She lived boldly, chose intentionally, and loved without apology. But you don't have to make my mistake.

 

If you see someone whose presence changes the light in a room, be braver than I was. Speak. Risk. Let yourself be fully known. Because the greatest loss isn't unrequited love. It's the version of yourself you never share with the person who might have loved you anyway.

The sunset is fading now, melting into twilight. The same cycle as always light into darkness, ending into new beginning. I'm not stuck in the shadows anymore. I'm learning to walk forward, carrying both the joy of what was and the wisdom of what I learned.

And if you're reading this, remember: don't wait for the perfect sunset. Don't rehearse the perfect words. Just speak. Take the leap.