For I Have Loved Him From Summer to Spring, From Spring to Winter.

I told myself I wouldn’t fall for anyone, not again—not after Noah. But here I was, kissing someone who would never measure up to the boy I could never forget.

“Laura,” he gasped, pulling away to catch his breath.

“Laura?” he repeated, but I didn’t answer. My lips pressed harder against his, giving him the kiss he wanted—the one he asked for.

“Stop!” he said, pushing me off, his chest heaving.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-no, nothing.” He chuckled nervously, avoiding my gaze. “It’s just... it’s odd for a virgin to kiss like that. It’s almost as if you aren’t one.”

“What?” I stared at him in disbelief, his words slicing through me like a knife.

He tried to backtrack, his grin faltering. But I didn’t wait for an apology. I opened the car door, slammed it shut, and, in a burst of anger, kicked his shiny bumper..

“Laura, wait!” he called, still sitting in the car, his voice laced with regret.

I didn’t look back. “Don’t you dare call my number again!” I shouted, storming into my parents’ restaurant.

“Condescending psycho,” I muttered under my breath as I walked in, forgetting to take off my shoes.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of bleach and leftover spices. My parents were cleaning up, the tables already bare and the chairs stacked neatly.

“Take off those shoes right this minute, young lady!” my mother yelled from across the room, dropping the mop in her hands.

I ignored her and headed upstairs, but she rushed at me, hitting my shoulder with enough force to stop me in my tracks.

“I’m talking to you, missy! Don’t you dare pretend you didn’t hear me!”

I screamed, loud enough to make her flinch.

“Can’t you understand that I’m in a bad mood? Why is everyone treating me like this?”

My mother blinked, stunned, while my father abandoned the table he was wiping and rushed over. He placed a hand on her arm, steadying her before she could retaliate.

“Calm down, honey,” my father pleaded.

“Did you see that? “She yelled at me!” my mother sputtered, pointing at me like I’d committed a crime. “Her own mother! That girl will be the death of me!”

I ignored them both and rushed upstairs, slamming my door shut. From behind it, I could still hear their muffled conversation.

I laughed quietly to myself, jumping onto my bed. It was ironic—my temper was clearly inherited from her.

Even in her older years, my mother was as beautiful as ever. Men often flirted with her at the restaurant, captivated by her blonde hair, elegant stature, and sharp features.

I was her mirror image—same sharp features, same fiery temper. The only difference was my ginger hair, courtesy of my father, which seemed to draw men in like moths to a flame. Too bad I never gave any of them a chance.

Except tonight. And it ended in disaster.

My phone buzzed with a message from Laila: How was the blind date?

I flipped the phone over, silencing the notifications. I wasn’t in the mood for her curiosity or her inevitable teasing. What I needed was a drink.

I waited until I heard my parents retire to their room. The house fell silent. I crept out of my room, leaving the door slightly ajar, and grabbed my coat.

The streets were dark, the air crisp with the scent of rain. I paused beneath the glow of the restaurant’s sign—Laura’s Kitchen, it read, in peeling gold letters. My parents had built the restaurant from nothing, sacrificing their living room to keep us afloat.

The thought only soured my mood further as I walked toward the bar down the street.

The closed sign hung crookedly on the door, but I pushed it open anyway.

“Sorry, we’re closed for the night,” a familiar voice called out. Laila, wiping the bar counter, didn’t bother to look up.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?” I asked, my voice softer than usual.

Her head snapped up, and her frown melted into a grin. “Laura! I’ve been trying to reach you. Come on in.”

I walked straight to the counter and sank onto a stool.

“So? How was the blind date?”

“Don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m really not in the mood.”

“That bad, huh?” Nothing a drink wouldn’t do to fix those lousy blues.”

I chuckled and watched her go get us a drink. “Don’t forget the snacks,” I reminded her.

Crackers?”

“Sure.”

She placed a large bottle on the counter, pouring its contents into two small cups as she slid one to me and took hers, sitting beside me with a plate filled with crumbled crackers.

“To lousy blind dates.” She said with a playful smirk.

“To lousy blind dates,” I echoed, downing the shot in one go. The burn was sharp, bitter—exactly what I needed.

“Tell me what happened,” she prodded, pouring another. “Did he stand you up? Say something stupid?”

“One question at a time, Laila.”

I sighed. “It started well, but then...”

“Uh-oh. Here comes the bad part,” she teased, pouring more into my glass. Good thing it’s a thirty percent alcoholic drink.

I took a deep breath, staring at the glass in my hand. “He kissed me, then he... assumed I wasn’t a virgin because I was ‘too good at it.”

“What?” she exclaimed, nearly knocking over her glass. “What an idiot!”

“Right?” I downed my drink in one gulp, grimacing at the burn.

“Strong, huh?”

“Yeah. Where did you get this,” never seen it here before?

She shrugged her shoulders and poured another round. “So... any news from Noah?”

The mention of his name wiped the smile from my face.

Noah, my childhood friend, was someone I had a crush on back in high school. I wasn’t entirely the person I am today back then. I was the least likely student anyone would want to hang out with, and meeting Noah changed that.

When he left to study abroad after graduation, we still kept in touch—until one day, he called to tell me not to contact him anymore. Eventually, I learned to forget about him—at least, until tonight, when Laila asked me about him.

“What about him?” I asked cautiously.

“Didn’t you hear? He’s back.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Back?”

“Yeah. He’s moved back to town.”

I laughed bitterly, grabbing the bottle and pouring a generous amount into my glass. “He just had to pick now, didn’t he?”

“Laura, maybe you should—”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” I snapped, grabbing the bottle and taking a long swig.

“Hey....... Drop the bottle!”

I ignored her, finishing half the bottle.

“Laura, give me that—”

I watched as Laila stared at me in bewilderment, as I stood up and almost fell but Laila helped me get up.

“Laura! Please let me take you home!”

“I’m fine,” I slurred, waving her off as I stumbled out and I hailed a cab, not sure where I was going.

The ride blurred by, but something felt off. My phone buzzed.

“Where are you?” Laila’s voice demanded.

“In a cab, going home,” I replied.

“Home? I’m at home here with your parents.”

My heart sank. “What?”

The line cut off, and I leaned toward the driver. “Sir, where are we going?”

“Estate Avenue,” the driver said, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I froze. My pulse quickened as I stared out the window, watching the familiar streets pass by.

When the cab stopped, I found myself in front of a demolished house. Noah's house.

Every drunken night, I ended up here. The memories of Noah were etched into this place—his laugh, his arguments with his parents, the times I watched him cry from a distance but couldn’t bring myself to approach him.

“Why did you have to come back?” I whispered, turning to leave.

“Laura?”

I froze again, my breath hitching. That voice. It couldn’t be.

I turned slowly, and there he was. Noah.

He walked toward me, his expression unreadable, until he closed the distance and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Laura,” he whispered, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t place.

Tears streamed down my face as I clung to him. At that moment, I never wanted to let go.