My name is Ava, and this is my love story. It's a story that began with a flicker of a dream, a yearning for something more, a hope that was as fragile as a spiderweb.
The first time I saw Chris, it was on television. He was standing beside his father, a man whose name was synonymous with wealth and success, the owner of a sprawling fabric empire. They were being interviewed about their latest charitable endeavor, their faces plastered across the screen, their words dripping with the kind of privilege and affluence that seemed to exist in a different world.
"They live in their own world," I'd always say, watching their appearances on the news, a world that felt distant and inaccessible, a world that was as far removed from my own reality as the stars in the night sky.
Well, aside from the fact that their world, their vast personal estate, occupied the land behind my house. Their mansion, a sprawling behemoth of marble and glass, stood as a silent monument to their wealth and influence. It was a constant reminder of the gulf that separated our worlds, a tangible manifestation of the dreams that felt so far out of reach.
Despite the vast differences that separated us, despite the walls of privilege and circumstance that seemed to stand between us, I found myself drawn to Chris. He was handsome, with a smile that could light up a room and eyes that held a depth that intrigued me. He was everything that I longed for, everything that I craved, everything that seemed to exist in that world that felt so far away.
I had harbored a crush on him since high school, a secret yearning that whispered in the quiet corners of my heart. I'd dreamed of bumping into him, of crossing paths, of finding a connection, however fleeting, in a world that seemed so vast and unyielding.
I would often stare out my window, gazing at the mansion that stood beyond my backyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, a fleeting moment of connection, a spark of hope that would ignite the flame in my heart.
I'd imagine us walking along the sun-dappled paths that led through their sprawling estate, our laughter echoing through the trees, our hands brushing, our eyes locking in a silent understanding that transcended the barriers of our different worlds.
It was a dream, a fantasy, a hope that seemed as impossible as reaching for the stars. But even the most distant stars, I knew, were capable of lighting up the darkest nights. And perhaps, even the most improbable of dreams, given enough time, could find a way to blossom.
Emily, my best friend since we were little, was a force of nature. She was loud, she was fearless, and she was always, always, brutally honest. She was also the one who kept me grounded most of the time by my mum in high school, she is one crazy bitch. But also the one who reminded me that life wasn't a fairytale, that dreams didn't always come true, and that there were other, more attainable, options out there. She was smarter than me.
She was also the one who never failed to tease me about my obsession with Chris.
"Girl, you are going to die a virgin if you keep turning down every decent guy who comes your way!" she would declare, her voice booming, her laughter ringing in my ears. "You're beautiful, you're curvy, you're a catch! Don't let this Chris guy take that away from you!"
She would grab my hair, playfully pulling at it as she continued her tirade. "Do you even know if he deserves your beauty? Has he even looked your way?"
I knew I was pretty, and that knowledge, that inner confidence, fueled my hope. I was convinced that Chris would fall for me, if only I could meet him once. I'd shake Emily's shoulder, a playful retort escaping my lips.
"He's a good guy," I'd say. "He's kind. He's funny. He's everything I've ever wanted."
"Yeah, right," Emily would respond, her skepticism evident in her tone. "You're a hopeless romantic, Ava. You're letting this guy control your life."
"He's not controlling my life," I'd argue, my voice a little too high-pitched, a little too defensive. "He's just a dream. A hope."
"A stalker's dream," she'd say, her laughter echoing through the halls, as she ran off, leaving me to stew in my own fantasies.
It was true. I was a stalker, in a way. I'd spend hours watching the mansion across the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, a moment of connection, a spark that would ignite our paths. I'd memorize his daily routines, his preferences, his habits, all the while building up this idealized image of him, a man who was as perfect as a fairytale prince.
But Emily was right. I was letting this dream, this fantasy, consume me.
But as at then do I care? Nope I don't.
Emily's words, though well-intentioned, only fueled my obsession. They ignited a fire in my heart, a stubborn defiance that refused to let go of my dream. I was determined to prove her wrong, to show her that my hopes were not in vain, that my pursuit of Chris was not futile.
My laptop became my shrine, a digital altar dedicated to my obsession. I gathered every picture of Chris I could find online, his face staring back at me from my screen, his smile a constant reminder of the man I yearned for.
I delved into the depths of the internet, seeking every piece of information I could find about him. I knew his favorite basketball team, his go-to restaurant, his favorite color, his favorite song. I knew his schedule, his friends, his routines, every detail I could uncover, every piece of information that would bring me closer to understanding the man behind the enigmatic facade.
I became a master of online sleuthing, a digital detective dedicated to unraveling the mystery that was Chris. My pursuit, fueled by a mixture of desperation and hope, became an all-consuming passion, consuming my thoughts, my time, my energy.
And then, fate, or perhaps my own persistence, intervened.
One Saturday morning, as I was staring out my window, my eyes glued to the mansion across the street, I noticed a figure emerging from the bushes at the back of the property. He was tall, his hair tousled by the wind, his back to me, but I knew it was him, instantly recognizing his familiar gait.
That was it! My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through my veins. I had discovered his secret path, the route he took to avoid the main gate, the route that would lead me to him.
I raced to the back of my house, my heart hammering in my chest, my mind racing with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The bushes that bordered my property were thick and overgrown, providing a natural screen that would allow me to observe without being seen.
I waited there, hiding in the shadows, watching, hoping, praying, that my stalker's strategy would pay off.
And then, he appeared, his silhouette framed against the morning light, his presence a tangible manifestation of the dream I had nurtured for so long.