They say you can't fall in love at once.
They're wrong.
They say you can't find love at first sight, but I did... and I lost it.

Seeing her gave me a jolt - as if I had been struck by lightning. My body quivered, my heart grew a thousand times bigger, and my soul sang with abounding joy. Her eyes were warm, dark, deep and penetrating. I could lose myself in those gold-sparkling eyes, those eyes that shone with a clarity I had never seen before. Her hair was a rich chestnut brown that framed her flawless face and flowed down her back in waves of silk. I wanted to reach out and touch her hair; to stroke it; to be engulfed in it; to kiss those full, rosy lips. Her stance spoke of boldness, pride, daring, and an upright confidence that drew many to her, but also pushed them away. She was so perfect and beautiful; a gleaming, beckoning gem. A forbidden gem.

I was already betrothed, you see. Betrothed to someone I did not love, Cassiopeia, a blonde, green-eyed girl from a wealthy family. The only way to save my family's delicate financial condition was to marry into a higher class, so I had to agree. It was my duty.

Yet here is love, a force stronger than duty. I remember when I was a child, I asked my mother how you know you're in love. She looked down at me, eyes intense, and said, "You know without a doubt. You deeply, decidedly care for them... You know that they're the one for you." As a child I didn't understand what she meant, but I do now. I look at this beautiful gem of perfection, and I know without a doubt - I'm in love.

Love is strong - incredibly strong - but it did not overcome my cowardice to make me the brave man I was not. I did not call out to her, or stop her, or talk to her as she left. I let her go without noticing me; I let her walk away. She walked right out of my life, and I never saw her again.
I never even knew her name.

Three weeks later, I was married to Cassiopeia. My parents were happy, her parents were happy, and so was she. But I'm not.

Every time I kiss her, I imagine she's my first, true, and only love, and my soul is comforted. But then I open my eyes and her hair isn't brown, her eyes aren't sparkling with gold, her lips aren't that shade of rosy fullness, and my soul plummets. I remember I don't love her - I love the girl I saw once, the girl I never talked to, the girl whose name I don't even know.
The girl I never saw again.

They say fate is cruel.
They're right.