The Innocence of First Love - A cute love Story

It was a quiet evening, and the soft glow of the lamp lit up the cozy room where little Anya sat cross-legged on her bed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Her mother, Neha, leaned against the headboard, brushing through Anya's silky hair.

"Mumma, have you ever been in love before Papa?" Anya asked, her tone as innocent as her question.

Neha laughed softly. "That's a big question for such a little girl. But yes, I did. It was a long time ago, back when I was in school."

Anya gasped. "Tell me, Mumma! I want to hear it."

Neha smiled as the memories flooded back, and she began.

"I was in the 9th grade when I met him—Aditya. He wasn’t the kind of boy you’d notice immediately. He wasn’t loud or boisterous like the others. He was quiet, always sitting in the back of the classroom, scribbling in his notebook.

One day, during a school project, the teacher paired us together. I was nervous—I mean, I barely knew him. But he smiled at me, a little awkwardly, and said, ‘Hi. I think we’ll make a good team.’

We started spending time together after that. He had this way of making even the most boring project feel like an adventure. He loved drawing, and I remember how he’d sketch little cartoons to explain ideas instead of just writing notes.

One day, during lunch, he handed me a folded paper. I thought it was a drawing for the project, but when I opened it, it was a small cartoon of a girl with long hair and glasses—just like me. Below it, he’d written, ‘I think you’re really smart and nice.’ I blushed so hard that day.

Anya interrupted, her eyes wide. "Mumma, was that a love letter?"

Neha chuckled. "Not exactly, sweetheart. But it was the first time anyone had made me feel special.

We started spending more time together. He’d save a spot for me during assemblies, help me carry my books, and even stand up for me when the boys teased me about my big glasses.

There was one time—I’ll never forget it—when the school held a talent show. I was too shy to participate, but Aditya signed up to draw on stage. He ended up sketching a scene from our school, with a tiny figure of a girl sitting under a tree, reading a book. When he finished, he turned to the audience and said, ‘This is for my best friend, Neha.’

The entire auditorium cheered, and I was both embarrassed and thrilled. It was such a sweet gesture."

Anya giggled, hugging her knees. "Did you ever tell him you liked him?"

Neha shook her head. "No, I didn’t. We were kids, Anya. It wasn’t like now, with big romantic declarations. Our friendship was innocent, and maybe that’s what made it so special.

Eventually, we finished school, and life took us in different directions. I went to college, then law school, and we lost touch. But I’ll always remember him as my first innocent love."

Anya leaned against her mother, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Mumma, do you think he remembers you too?"

Neha smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Anya’s face. "Maybe he does. But that’s the thing about first love, Anya. It’s not about what could’ve been. It’s about the happiness it gave you at the time."

"Do you still love him?"

Neha shook her head. "No, my love. That was a different time, a different Neha. Now, I love your Papa with all my heart. But I’m grateful for those memories. They taught me what love feels like and prepared me for the love I’d find later."

Anya smiled, her head resting against her mother’s shoulder. "I think it’s a nice story, Mumma. You were lucky to have Aditya as a friend."

Neha kissed the top of Anya’s head, whispering, "And I’m even luckier to have you as my daughter."

As they sat there, bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, Neha felt a wave of gratitude—for the love she’d had, the love she’d found, and the love she held in her arms now.