My first love was the kind of love that slips into your life when you least expect it—like the soft press of a breeze on a summer evening, unnoticed at first, then unforgettable once it is gone. His name was Jayden. Tall, handsome, and charming, the kind of boy you would swear was pulled right out of the pages of a storybook. I believed he was perfect, or at least my young heart believed so.

It all began when we were barely old enough to tie our own shoes. In Pre-unit we were inseparable though we never quite said it. We were neighbors, schoolmates, playmates—our lives a tangled thread woven by fate. Our parents were close and our families attended the same fellowship and later the same church. Jayden was everywhere, a constant in the landscape of my childhood.

I still remember the smell of chalk and crayons in Kindergarten. Jayden would always offer me his snacks. At the time, I thought nothing of it—just the natural generosity of a boy who always had more than he needed.

We played in the yard, flying toy airplanes, racing little cars along the dusty paths, pedaling our bikes through the neighborhood as the sun dipped low in the sky. We were children in the purest sense, lost in a world of make-believe, unaware that the seeds of something deeper were being planted.

Then, just like that, Jayden was gone. Not entirely but he transferred to a different school when we started Class One and though we still saw each other on weekends and at church, the closeness we had began to fade. As the years went on, the distance grew but he was always there lurking at the edges of my world, like the silhouette of a ship on the horizon—present, yet somehow unreachable.

It was around this time that I began to notice him differently. Jayden had grown into a boy who seemed to float above the rest. He was handsome, effortlessly so, and cultured in a way that made me feel like I could never measure up. I accepted that he was out of my league and tucked the thought of him away, deep in the corners of my mind like a treasure buried for safekeeping.

One afternoon when I was twelve, life threw me a curveball I never saw coming. I had just returned home from school, dusty and exhausted from running around on the football field in the sweltering heat. In my yellow P.E. t-shirt and scarlet red shorts, I stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with a spatula that felt like an extension of my own hand. They were not perfect pancakes—uneven, misshapen, with edges that curled like dried leaves—but they were mine, and I took pride in them.

"Marion, Jayden’s at the gate," my cousin called, her voice cutting through the sizzle of cooking oil on the stove.

"Me?" I asked, confused, wiping my flour-covered hands on my shirt. “Why?”

"I don’t know. You should go find out."

I was a mess. Flour streaked my shorts, sweat trickled down my brow, and my hair was sticking to the back of my neck. But I made my way to the gate, heart pounding for reasons I could not quite understand.

There he was. Jayden. Still in his school uniform, standing awkwardly and hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Jayden,” I managed to say, trying to sound casual as I wiped my hands against my sides.

“Hi, Marion,” he said, his voice unusually soft like he was struggling to find the right words. 

“I, um… my cousin said you were asking for me.”

He hesitated and his usual confidence replaced with a kind of endearing nervousness. 

“I like you Marion. A lot. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. Will you be my girlfriend?”

I was stunned. My brain felt like it had short-circuited. Jayden, the Jayden, liked me? Here I was, standing there covered in flour and pancake mix feeling scruffy and disheveled, while the boy of my childhood fantasies was confessing his feelings.

“Umm, what do you mean that you like me?” I asked, trying to buy myself time to process.

“I like you, Marion,” he said again, his words coming out in a rush. “You’re beautiful, and you’re amazing. I’ve been gathering up the courage to tell you this. Can you please be my girlfriend?”

I felt like the world had come to a standstill, the weight of his words pressing down on me. Jayden? Out of all the girls in the world—girls who were prettier, girls who seemed to exist in his league—he chose me? I had no idea how to respond.

“I’m going to be honest, this caught me off guard,” I said slowly. “Why me though? Why not any other girl? Do you not have a girlfriend?”

“Because I want you, Marion,” he said simply. “And I neither have nor ever had a girlfriend.”

My head was spinning, and I felt my stomach twist in knots. “I can’t give you a response right now. I need to think about it.”

His bright eyes dulled, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He nodded, turning away, the sadness in his steps unmistakable as he walked back towards his home. I watched him go heart torn between disbelief and confusion.

As I walked back into the house, I was greeted by the mischievous grins of my siblings and cousin who had clearly been listening in from the door.

“So, what did Jayden want?” my eldest sister asked, her voice dripping with playful curiosity.

“Nothing much,” I said, trying to brush it off. “He was just saying hi.”

“Hi, huh? That was a long ‘hi,’” my other sister chimed in, giggling.

“Okay, fine,” I said, exasperated. “He asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“UUUUUUU!” They chorused in mock excitement making me wish I could disappear into the floor.

Over the next day, I thought about it a lot. The idea of having my first boyfriend, especially someone like Jayden, felt like a dream I was not sure I deserved. But when I saw him the next day, standing outside his house, waiting for me, something inside me clicked.

“Okay,” I said, heart racing as I stood before him. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

His face lit up with the kind of happiness that could light up a room. He hugged me tightly as if afraid I would change my mind and then asked for my phone number. I did not have a phone yet, but we exchanged letters and notes, the kind that made my heart race every time I opened one.

Our love, if you could call it that, was sweet and naïve, full of stolen kisses and awkward conversations. We had our share of fights and there were times I doubted if it would last. One time we went to a Church’s teens retreat while we were not in good terms. What did he do all day? Make me jealous! Talking to other girls, giving them his stupid snacks and buying them random stupid treats. I did not even want to walk with them. Why were these so called friends and acquaintances of mine accepting his stupid snacks too? I was furious! The kind of silly jealousy only a first love can bring. But even then, he managed to find a way to make me melt.

Back in the bus after the retreat, he passed biscuits to everyone and when my friend handed me one, I refused, out of pure spite. But when we got home he ran after me, calling my name. 

“Marion, wait. Please.”

I stopped, turning to face him, still fuming.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine!” I said, trying to keep my anger in check.

“I know you’re mad,” he said, stepping closer. “And I am sorry. I just wanted to know if you still have feelings for me.”

He dropped to one knee right there in the street, and held my hand, his eyes pleading.

“Will you keep being my girlfriend? I love you, Marion. I love you so much.”

I stood frozen, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. After a long pause, I nodded and he stood, pulling me into a hug as relief washed over him.

But as all first loves go, ours eventually came to an end. We grew up, drifted apart, and life pulled us in different directions. Jayden moved abroad to pursue his university degree, and I went on to pursue my own path. When he came back, he tried to bring us back together but I was not having it.

 Even now when our paths cross at family events, there is a flicker of the past in his eyes, a glimmer of the boy who once knelt in the street and poured out his heart. He jokes about paying my bride price, flirts with the idea of what could have been. But the truth is, that ship sailed long ago leaving only the memories of a love that was as fleeting as it was beautiful.

And though I have moved on, seeing other people and building a new future, Jayden will always hold a soft spot in my heart. Because first loves, no matter how far away they may be, never truly fade away.