Dara spent the weekend cooped up in her apartment, doing nothing but stare unblinkingly at her laptop's screen—at photos of him who constantly plagued her mind since weeks ago. She continuously clicked the mouse, images of him flash before her eyes. Black and white. Colored. His eyes staring off somewhere. Staring through her, through the lens actually. That piercing gaze that made her catch her breath everytime. Hopelessly, she heaved a sigh.

Her thoughts were in haywire. She couldn't figure out which was more difficult, the problem she had several months ago or the predicament she now had to tackle.

As cliche as it may sound, she is one of those who fell for her best friend. One of those who kept it a secret; indecisive whether she should let him know or simply continue to love him in silence. She feared that if she told him about her feelings, she would lose him...

Lose the nonchalant way he holds her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, pulling her towards the beach every summer, towards the ticket booth whenever he felt like watching a movie or simply when they are walking wherein she can barely keep up with his long strides—he's a very tall guy, she barely reached his shoulders.

The way he would smile at her, and sometimes laugh out loud, not mindful how his face would look like whenever he would crack up at their banters.

The comfortable way he'd put his arm over her shoulder when they are weaving their way through a crowd in the market. For all she knew, maybe he's arm simply wanted something to rest on.

The gentleman in him always opening the door and pulling the chair for her whenever they dine out in restaurants.

The way he always and gladly without any hesitation give in to her request when she asked him if he could be her model/subject for the things she love most, Art and Photography. Most of those were actually schemes—she wanted to collect photographs of him. He had always been her favorite subject. One proof of that—her hard drive's almost full because more than half of it are photos of him. Photos she stared at every night ever since she realized her feelings. It wasn't surprising anymore how she had memorized every minute detail of his handsome face. She can easily sketch him from her memory.

Though they have been friends since their teen years, she is still surprised that she did not know him at all even up to now. She didn't know he was in love or maybe she chose not to see it.

Such hurtful truth—she had to find out the hard way. And why must it be on the day she made up her mind to be honest about her feelings? How ironic. She finally mustered the courage and decided to tell him. But it was too late. And so her heart was broken. With the pain came the questions: What was she thinking? Was she so close to confessing to him? What could have happened if she told him?

She couldn't believe she almost did it. The memory was still fresh in her mind, though it did not hurt as much as it did before.

They met outside the restaurant they frequent, a few blocks away from her apartment/studio because he had something to tell her. She mentally noted how very presentable he looked while she walked towards him. He had this aura of excitement with a hint of nervousness. The moment he saw her, he smiled. He complimented how beautiful she is followed by an inquiry if she's on her way to a date. 

She denied it with wide eyes, her palms started to sweat at what she's about to do. She couldn't seem to find the right moment to spea