Perhaps it was the sea breeze and the gorgeous cliffside views. Perhaps it was the way the sunlight shone on the green, rolling hills, and how the birds danced in front of us. Or perhaps it was simply because I was a girl, and he was a guy, and we were travelling together one summer day.
Yes, it was a holiday romance. Except that it wasn’t.
We had shared a moment. I thought it was just me – that I had suddenly felt all sentimental after spending an afternoon out in the country. I parked my feelings at the foot of the lighthouse where we lingered, and went back to my normal travel persona – intrepid explorer who would try (almost) anything once. Then he decided to take me somewhere afterwards – somewhere that wasn’t part of the itinerary. I thought he was just being nice.
It wasn’t until the fourth day – when my flight got cancelled and I sent a text message asking if he could take me trekking – that I realised it wasn’t just me. The lady running the lodge where I stayed made a subtle yet meaningful remark that night, after another afternoon with him. They must have talked, and her mother’s intuition took hold. I brushed it off, saying it’s nothing. After all, I am (finally) leaving the next day.
Except that he sent me a text message before I left, thanking me for the fun time he had. I smiled. I thanked him, too, and told him I’ll send my friends his way when they get to visit. And then he told me to take care. Always. Logic tells me it’s silly and pointless and won’t go anywhere. Besides – he mentioned that he has a girlfriend. Red flag right there. And yet, a tiny part of me wonders if it’s really possible to find true love when you’re travelling on your own. Maybe not on this trip, but on the next one.
Meanwhile, I will have that moment at the foot of the lighthouse when time stood still, and my heart opened itself to the possibility of finding love.