I still remember the day Michael walked into my life like it was yesterday. We were both in SS2, pretending to be too grown for childish crushes, yet too shy to admit when something real was happening.

Michael wasn’t the loud, overly confident type. He was calm, gentle, and annoyingly observant.

 The kind of person who noticed when you changed your hairstyle or when your laughter didn’t sound the same. I, on the other hand, was the stubborn one, always acting like I didn’t have time for love.

It started with small moments.

Him sharing his notes with me after I missed a class.

Me teasing him about his handwriting.

Us walking home together because “our streets were in the same direction,” even though he lived two streets away.

One evening, just after prep, he said quietly, “Ayomide, you know I like you, abi?”

I laughed. “Everybody likes me na. What’s special in that?”

But he didn’t laugh.

“I don’t like you like everybody does. I like you… specially.”

My heart almost stopped.

We became inseparable after that, two teenagers trying to understand feelings bigger than their age. We shared dreams. Fears. Snacks. Secrets. 

First hugs that lingered too long. 

First butterflies that refused to calm down.

Life happened after secondary school. Different cities, different struggles. There was a year we didn’t speak much, and I thought maybe first love was meant to fade. But somehow, anytime I needed someone, Michael showed up, quietly, consistently, like he made a promise he never planned to break.

Last December, he took me back to the same street we always walked together. I was laughing at something he said when he suddenly stopped walking and faced me.

“Ayomide… I think I’ve loved you since the day you teased my handwriting,” he said, smiling shyly. “And honestly, I don’t want to stop.”

Before I could respond, he pulled out a small ring. My legs almost failed me.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

And I did not even pretend to think twice.

We hugged, laughing like the two teenagers we used to be, only this time older, wiser, and sure.

First love doesn’t always fade.

Sometimes… it grows up with you.

Sometimes… it finds its way back.

And sometimes, like in our story, it stays forever.

-