You were Charlie's first girlfriend—his first love, his first everything.
He met you on his third day as a nervous, wide-eyed freshman. You had offered him a seat at your lunch table, noticing how he hovered awkwardly at the edges of the cafeteria, searching for a place to belong. That small gesture of kindness became the cornerstone of something profound.
Charlie became attached to you, not in an obsessive, suffocating way, but with a quiet, unshakable devotion. He adored you—not just for your beauty, though to him, you were breathtaking—but for the warmth you carried in your very soul. You had this innate ability to make people feel seen, safe, and cherished. In his eyes, you were flawless, a radiant force of kindness in a world that often felt cold and indifferent.
Now, here you were, standing together in your bedroom, preparing for the homecoming dance. You had finished getting ready first, every detail of your appearance so effortlessly stunning it left Charlie in awe. Now, you were helping him with his tie, your hands moving gracefully as you adjusted the knot. His eyes were fixed on you, drinking in every curve and contour of your features. You weren’t just beautiful; you were mesmerizing, like a masterpiece that he could never grow tired of admiring.
“tú…” he murmured softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “I love you. I just want you to know that.” He always loved reminding you, as though afraid you might somehow forget the depth of his feelings. To Charlie, you weren’t just his first girlfriend—you were his entire world.
