"Back off, back off!" one of my friends screamed, and a sudden hush fell over the room as the power supply abruptly vanished. I watched as my computer screen displayed the dreaded word "disconnected." Since the backup battery on my UPS was far from reliable, I had no choice but to turn off my computer. Such is the nature of our Dota 2 sessions—filled with screams, laughter, shouts, and the occasional curse. 😊 Glancing at my watch, I noted that it was a quarter past five in the evening. Grabbing my phone, I checked for missed calls and messages, aware that it had been ringing several times during our gaming session. True enough, I discovered a missed call from an unknown number. Curiosity piqued, I used Truecaller to identify the caller, only to find a name that meant nothing to me.
As I placed my phone back on the table, a memory from a couple of nights ago suddenly resurfaced. It had been quite an eventful evening, to say the least. Let me start from the beginning: I reluctantly attended a party that a friend had been inviting me to for quite some time. The gathering was actually a formal pre-wedding party. Now, I must admit that parties aren't really my thing, and I hardly knew anyone in attendance. In fact, my acquaintance with the person who invited me was mostly limited to our Dota 2 sessions. We had spent countless hours playing and screaming together, but we had only met face-to-face a couple of times. Despite my reservations, I thought, "What the hell," and dressed up for the occasion.
Upon arriving at the venue, I was greeted by a bustling crowd and security guards in uniform managing a guest list. I stepped forward and asked them to check if my name was on the list. To my embarrassment, they couldn't find it. But then, an idea struck me, and I requested that they search for my Dota 2 nickname. Surprisingly, that's when they recognized me—the person who had invited me didn't even know my real name.
I entered the party, the music blaring and people dancing on the floor. I scanned the room, searching for my friend, but he was nowhere to be found. Feeling out of place, I retreated to a corner. The strange thing was that I didn't recognize a single face in the crowd. Now, don't get me wrong—I know a lot of people in this city. So, if I say it was weird, trust me, it was weird. As I pondered this, a thought crossed my mind: "I'm getting old." Spotting a mini bar nearby, I approached it not to grab a drink but to inquire about my friend's whereabouts. Unfortunately, the responses I received were vague: he was here, he was there—I couldn't get a clear answer. Disappointed, I stood in the corner, leaning against the wall with my phone in hand. I attempted to make a call, but the reception was abysmal. Frustrated, I came up with the brilliant idea of taking a few photos to prove I had been there and then promptly leaving that godforsaken place. Just as I was setting up my phone for a secret selfie, something caught my eye.
I caught sight of a mesmerizing figure, yet strangely, no one else seemed to notice her presence. She was truly captivating, adorned in a garment that exuded elegance reminiscent of renowned designers like Alexander McQueen and Calvin Klein. Her eyes gleamed with an indescribable radiance, a sight that left me in awe. I recalled the old saying to avoid direct eye contact with mysterious beings, but I couldn't resist gazing into her enchanting eyes. In that moment, her beguiling smile transported me to an ethereal realm, like ascending through heavenly layers, although I can't claim to know the exact composition of heaven. Lost in her presence, I found myself unable to utter a word, grateful that my jaw didn't betray my awe. "Bride's or groom's?" she inquired, prompting me to check behind me to ensure she was addressing me and not someone else. Indeed, she was speaking to me. With a stuttering voice, I managed to reply, "Gr-groom's." We engaged in conversation, and I shared the story of how I ended up at the party. When I mentioned that I knew my friend through Dota2, she laughed, quoting the familiar phrase, "boys never grow up."
Given the deafening music, I asked her, "Do you dance?" She shook her head and responded, "I don't really dance or attend parties. When I saw you, you didn't seem to be enjoying yourself either, which is why I approached you." It was true; everyone else was immersed in dancing or singing, clutching glasses in their hands. Slowly, we made our way outside the hall, finding a spot to rest our tired legs. Numerous thoughts raced through my mind. Honestly, I wasn't actively seeking a relationship, as a series of events in my recent past had left me guarded, concealing my dreams and aspirations. I feared that if I opened my heart again, I would be vulnerable to the same pain. The void that ensnared me felt insurmountable. Even when I engaged in casual conversations with other women, the weight of my emotional baggage seemed too burdensome, causing me to let them go rather than burden them. Yet, in that very moment, I realized that I couldn't care less about that baggage.
Outside, the biting cold wind whipped around us, and I couldn't help but recall the countless times I had witnessed such scenes in movies—the classic move of offering her my jacket. Let me tell you, it proved to be a terrible idea; it was freezing. However, not a single ounce of regret crossed my mind. Almost effortlessly, our hands found each other's, and in that simple gesture, a profound connection formed. As we stood there, she confided in me, revealing that she, too, carried a weighty burden—the haunting remnants of past mistakes. Her words gripped my attention, for they echoed the thoughts I longed to share about my own missteps. I could truly empathize with her, and as a result, I refrained from imposing any pressure. We exchanged only our names, deliberately omitting addresses and phone numbers. "Perhaps it's best to leave things as they are and let fate decide," I suggested, and her radiant smile conveyed agreement. We made a pact not to delve deeper into each other's lives, trusting that if the universe intended for us to reunite, it would guide us back together.
A momentary silence settled over us, tinged with a hint of awkwardness. Just then, my friend, who had invited me to the party, finally located me and expressed his relief at finding me. I noticed that he and the beautiful lady were unfamiliar with each other, so I took the opportunity to introduce them. The enchanting lady, realizing it was time to depart, I offered to accompany her to her vehicle, she declined, stating, "No, if we leave it to the universe, you won't know my vehicle's number." With that, we bid our farewells, and she rode away. My curious friend inquired about the encounter, but I simply informed him that it was a long story.
After returning home, my thoughts were consumed by her. I even approached most of the people at the party, recounting every detail I could remember, yet nobody seemed to recognize her. All I had was limited information—her name, the color of her dress, and the knowledge that she rides. Would I ever cross paths with her again? What lay ahead in this unpredictable world? Determined to remain calm, I resolved to let the universe unfold its plans for me.
