It took me a few days to recover.
Strangely, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would—just shocked me to the core.
Once the festival ended, life pulled me back into assignments and deadlines. My research on gay relationships became my escape… and maybe my excuse. Somewhere between articles and interviews, I realized something cruelly ironic: I had fallen for a real gay guy.
I started interviewing different couples—listening, observing, pretending my heart wasn't involved.
That's when I found Aydric Rumain.
A businessman.
Recently graduated from our university.
Gay.
And interested in my research topic.
I texted him first.
He replied.
Polite. Professional. Distant.
He was always busy and never committed to an interview time. His profile had no photos—nothing that hinted at how he looked. Just words. Clean. Controlled. Almost intimidating.
Not friendly. Not rude.
Hard to approach… yet easy to talk to.
Eventually, I told him to contact me whenever he felt ready for the interview.
Then, one ordinary afternoon ruined my peace forever.
I was sitting in a café near campus with my friends, laughing over nothing, when the door opened.
And he walked in.
Tall—easily six feet six.
White shirt, three buttons undone.
Rolled sleeves.
Bold abs peeking like a sin.
Pure CEO-from-a-dark-novel energy.
Was it only me who noticed?
Or had the world suddenly gone blind?
Because in that exact moment, standing in a random coffee shop, I knew one thing for sure—
I had fallen again.
And this time, the last layer of the sandwich had just arrived.