Somewhere in the 1990s.

The first time I saw her, we were eighteen. College freshmen.

Even though she was half the size of most of the students at the university, she still always managed to stand out from the crowd.

She wasn't the Barbie doll or Disney princess type of beauty, but there was no denying her unique charm. She was smart, could always put up a good argument. Unlike most ladies our age, she was a bit rough on the edges. Headstrong was one of the best words to describe her, reckless even.

She was amazing, and even she knew it. No, she wasn't arrogant, just confident.

***

I wasn't the type to believe in love, let alone love at first sight. I had always been convinced I would never fall for anyone. But that woman, extraordinary that she was, broke through my resolve, which I thought was impenetrable.

"Name's Frances Abellano. The rest about me is already for me to know and for you guys to find out."

Hearing her voice for the first time, seeing her grin, I knew it then that I, Jeremiah Keith Dizon, was doomed.

"I hope we all get along. Just don't do anything stupid, and we're gonna be cool, for sure."

"Wow, she's something," I heard one of my male classmates whisper behind me.

So in the end, I was not the only one who thought she was interesting.

***

Half-attention on the lecturer, the other half on the woman sitting in front of me.

Even with the few feet of distance, I could smell the lovely scent of her hair, tempting me to tug the few strands that fell out of her messy ponytail bun.

Yes, I was a hopeless case.

***

"Jeremiah, right?"

I looked up, only to see her sitting across from me.

Surprised, I failed to get any word out of my mouth, but a dumb, "Uh."

"So I was just wondering..." The hesitance in her expression as her gaze kept flicking to the side didn't escape me. That made me wonder what the problem was. She did not immediately continue what she was saying, and it took a couple more seconds before she returned her uncertain gaze to me. "Just that, well, you see... I've been having a hard time following the lessons in Algebra, and I've known you're... so just... if you can..."

An amused grin threatened to break out of my lips, but I managed to bite it back. Who would have thought I'd see the day when this usually spirited woman would act so fidgety?

"Sure, no problem," I cut in, knowing where the talk was going.

"Huh?" Her eyes widened for a fleeting moment before she knitted her brows. The mix of confusion and surprise on her face was priceless. Cute.

I shrugged. "Weren't you going to ask me to help you with it? So sure, I can do it."

She beamed; I saw that coming.

But I surely wasn't expecting her to suddenly jump and hug me. "Thank you! Thank you!"

God, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

***

"For the best tutor in the world," Frances said, grinning and handing me a cup of cheese-flavored ice cream, "Thank you, JK. I wouldn't have gotten through the exam had it not been for you."

"I told you to stop calling me that." Despite my best effort to feign my irritation, I could not help the smirk that settled on my lips. The woman's smile was just contagious. "And don't mention it. After all, it was you who took the exam and passed it."

As she laughed, I realized I could get used to hearing it every day.

"Ever the modest person, aren't we? I like that about you."

My breathing just momentarily stopped.

"And your generosity. I haven't paid for the ice cream, by the way."

***

We had grown closer since then. We had learned a lot of things about each other.

She had become my best friend, my confidant. Even then, I didn't let her know how I felt for her since I was afraid I'd put our friendship on the line.

"Have you ever liked a girl?"

"Maybe."

"What is she like?"

"Who knows?"

Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed Frances glare daggers at me. "You're so boring, dude."

"Thanks," I answered, not bothering to turn at her while I was highlighting a passage on my book.

"But seriously," she pressed on, "What type of girl is she? Is she beautiful?"

This time, I raised my head and looked Frances in the eye. "Definitely."

She lifted a quizzical brow. "Is that the reason you like her? Because she's beautiful?"

"What's this? A Twenty Questions Game?"

"Just answer me," she demanded, smacking me on the arm.

Defeated, I could only rub the spot she'd hit. I heaved an audible sigh. "No, I don't like her because she's beautiful. She's beautiful because I like her."

Frances stared at me strangely for a moment before blurting out, "Wow, JK, you have it bad."

Indeed. I had it bad.

***

College sophomore when we had our first serious fight, which left me with a bruise around my left eye after she had thrown a punch at me.

Damn, that woman could really hit.

That incident should have been enough to turn me off, right? I was supposed to be mad at her, right? But, no, there was this stupid part of me that just found the woman's audacity as another reason to fall in love with her more. It was like her punch was a cupid's arrow that had plunged deep inside my heart.

Maybe I was just an idiot, if not a masochist.

"Sorry, Jeremiah, I didn't mean to give you a shiner. Though it actually looks good on you."

She smiled sheepishly when I glared at her.

"Okay fine. All kidding aside, I'm really sorry. It was because you said something stupid that I failed to keep my cool, but I know it was still not an excuse to hit you that hard. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. What can I do to make it up for you?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me give in soon.

"JK, don't be like that." Her tone turned sweet, at the same time as she hugged my arm. "You know I really am sorry. Sorry. Please? Please? Please?"

The instant I turned my head and our gazes met, I knew I had made a big mistake. I was weak where those eyes were concerned.

Resigned, I told her, "You know I hate it when you make that kind of expression."

The ever-so-familiar grin spread across her lips. "You know you love it."

Boy, was she right.

***

"So, is this a goodbye?"

Parting was inevitable.

Graduation day. My last chance to confess to her.

"Uh, Jeremiah, is there something you wanna tell me?"

"Yes."

I love you.

"Then shoot."

"Thank you for everything, Frances. My college life has been interesting because of you."

She smiled softly before stepping closer to hug me. "I'll miss you, JK. Thank you for being my best friend."

So I was an idiot. I was a coward for keeping my feelings to myself.

At that time, I could only hope that, someday, my feelings would still reach her.

If that "someday" would come.

***

Six years. After all those times of no contact with each other, I thought I would never see Frances again. Well, I didn't, but I heard her voice over the telephone.

"Yo, Jeremiah."

The feeling, which I thought was gone, came back in an instant. Six years had passed, and yet, her confident voice remained the same.

"Frances."

"The one and only." I could almost hear the grin in her words.

As my surprise wore off, I managed to say, "Hey. What's up?"

"Same ol', same ol'. So, Jeremiah, do you still remember when you sang me a song on my birthday while you were also playing the guitar?"

"Uh-huh. What about it?"

"I just thought you had a beautiful singing voice."

That wasn't what I was expecting to hear from her. With a chuckle, I asked, "Oh, yeah?"

"No kidding. Actually, that's the reason I looked up for your number and called you."

"Just to tell me that." Dubious, I raised a questioning brow, but then, I realized Frances could not see my expression.

"No, you silly. I want to invite you to perform a song."

"On a special occasion?"

"Yes. On my wedding."

My wedding. It was as if a bucket of ice-cold water poured upon my body as those words rang in my ears.

In the hope that I just heard it wrong, I asked emphatically, "On your wedding?"

"Yes, Jeremiah, I want you to be the one to sing our wedding theme song for that day."

My hands shook as I felt in denial about the conversation. Even my voice trembled when I finally composed myself enough to respond, "S-sorry, Frances, b-but I can't go."

"Huh." The disappointment in her tone was as plain as day. "Are you busy nowadays?"

"N-no. It's just that... I don't want to go."

"You just don't want to go? C'mon, Jeremiah, don't give me that excuse. If you won't go just because you don't want to, I'll be upset with you."

That was it. Whether I chose to not go and keep the reason to myself, or tell her the whole truth, she would be upset anyway.

I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Frances, do you really want to know the reason I can't go?"

"Yes."

"Because I loved you; I still do. I don't think I can watch you walking in the aisle while another man waits for you at the altar. I can't sing for you at your wedding. I'm sorry."

Silence.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

The other line kept being quiet.

"Frances, say something."

Still, there was no response.

Four minutes.

Five minutes.

"Fine. If you're not going to talk, just please hang up on me."

She didn't hang up, nor did she say anything.

I didn't hang up either. Deep inside, I still wanted to know her reaction.

"Frances..."

"Jeremiah," she said finally, and I could pick up the sadness in her shaking voice, "You should have told me that before. You're too late now."

And she hung up.

Only then, everything dawned on me. Frances loved me, was hoping to be loved by me in return.

But I did nothing. I didn't say anything.

I finally told her the truth.

But it was too late.

***

What if I confessed to her when we were in college? What if I did take the risk?

Perhaps, I'd known earlier that she also felt the same. Perhaps, we've been together now. Perhaps, I would be the one to wait for her at the end of the aisle.

But that's it. Just all 'perhaps.'

If only I could bring back the time. If only I could set everything at a counter-clock. If only I will be given a second chance.

If only... If only...

Inspired by a true to life story.