Ayla was running late for her interview, her heart pounding as she finished the last bite of her hurried breakfast. She grabbed her bag and rushed out, hoping to catch an auto. Standing by the roadside, she looked around, but not a single auto was in sight. The street was unusually quiet, and even cars seemed to have disappeared that morning. Frustration and anxiety bubbled up within her as she checked the time again - she couldn't afford to be late.

With no other choice, Ayla began walking briskly, her steps quickening with every glance at the clock on her phone. Her breath came in short bursts as the weight of her bag made the journey even more taxing. Suddenly, she noticed a car approaching in the distance. Without thinking twice, she raised her hand and waved, hoping the driver would stop.

The car slowed down and halted a few feet ahead. Ayla jogged up to it, her heart racing - not just from the run, but from a mix of hope and desperation. The window was rolled up, so she leaned closer and said through the glass, "Please, I'm really late for an important interview. Can you give me a lift just a little further?"

There was a pause, and for a moment, she thought the driver might ignore her. But then the rear door clicked open, and a voice from the front said, "Get in."

Relieved, Ayla slid into the back seat and let out a sigh, murmuring, "Thank you so much. If it weren't for you, I'd definitely be late." She leaned back, trying to catch her breath.

The driver, a young man, kept his eyes on the road. He hadn't turned to look at her, and she hadn't seen his face either. Her mask and sunglasses kept her identity hidden, and she didn't feel the need to break the silence with small talk. She was too focused on calming herself.

The silence in the car was punctuated only by the sound of her heavy breathing. Without a word, the driver reached back blindly and held out a water bottle. Startled, Ayla hesitated for a moment before taking it. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice soft. She drank the water in small gulps, feeling a little less tense.

After a few minutes, Ayla spoke again, her voice more confident. "You can stop the car here. This is where I need to go."

The car slowed to a stop, and Ayla hurriedly grabbed her bag to get out. But in her haste, some books and papers spilled onto the back seat. Embarrassed, she scrambled to gather them, her hands shaking slightly as she stuffed them back into her bag. "Thanks again!" she called out, and without waiting for a response, she bolted towards the building, her heels clicking against the pavement.

The driver watched her disappear and muttered under his breath, "What a strange girl. Didn't even say a proper thank you." He rolled his eyes but then shrugged. "Anyway, I don't care."

Ayla's interview went better than she had hoped. That evening, she treated herself to a cup of coffee at her favorite spot, a book resting on the table beside her. Reading was her escape, her joy, and she always paired it with the comforting warmth of coffee.

As she reached into her bag to pull out her usual book, her fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. Curious, she pulled it out - a small, worn diary that wasn't hers. Frowning, she flipped it open, her mind racing. How had it ended up in her bag?

On the very first page, in bold, neat handwriting, it read Ethan Hart - she read the name and wondered, Who is Ethan? She tried to piece her day together and suddenly remembered: when her books and papers fell out of her bag earlier, she must have accidentally picked up this diary in the rush. It had to belong to the man who gave her a lift.

She looked at the diary in her hands, hesitating. This must be someone's personal diary... I shouldn't read it, she thought. There are probably emotions, secrets, and countless personal stories in here. Determined, she decided not to invade someone's privacy and resolved to return it. She thought, Tomorrow, I'll go back to that route. If I see him, I'll hand it over. She carefully placed the diary back in her bag.

But no matter how much she tried, Ayla couldn't stop thinking about the young man and the diary. What could be inside? Should I take just one peek? The thought kept swirling in her mind. Late at night, unable to stop her curiosity, she finally went to bed to silence her racing thoughts.Tomorrow, I'll go back to that route. If I see him, I'll hand it over. She carefully placed the diary back in her bag.

The next day, Ayla went back to the same road, at the same time. Maybe it's his regular route - maybe I'll find him today, she thought, hopeful. She waited for what felt like an eternity, but he didn't show up. Disappointed, she had no other choice but to return home. Placing the diary on her table, she told herself she wouldn't think about it anymore.

Later that evening, while making coffee, Ayla reached for a book to read but found herself staring at the diary again. This time, she couldn't resist. What's the harm in reading a little? she thought. Picking it up, she slowly opened the cover. Her voice barely above a whisper, she read the name again:

Ethan Hart.

Melly started reading:

"Sometimes, it feels like life is running ahead of me, and I'm chasing after something I can't quite understand. On some days, everything feels just right, but in moments like this, I feel completely lost."

She paused, her heart heavy with a strange emotion she couldn't name. Taking a deep breath, she turned another page, and Ethan's world began to unfold before her.

As she flipped through its pages, she felt like she was holding a piece of someone's soul in her hands.

The diary was filled with snippets of his life - childhood dreams, regrets, and little moments that made him feel alive. He wrote about the scent of rain, the thrill of opening a new book, and the peace he found in sitting at the park for hours, watching the world pass by.

The more Ayla read, the closer she felt to Ethan, like she knew him better than anyone else ever could. Yet, one question lingered in her mind: Who is Ethan Hart?

As she turned another page, she noticed a title scribbled at the top: One-Sided Love.??

Before she could read further, her phone rang, jolting her back to reality. The ringtone played a recorded voice: "Ayla, please pick up the phone!"

Ayla - smiled softly and picked up the call. It was her best friend, Shreya.

"Where have you been? You don't call anymore!" Shreya began without pause. "And how did your interview go? Did the results come out yet?"

"Hold on, let me speak!" Ayla laughed, trying to calm her chatty friend.

"Oh, sorry, sorry! Go ahead," Shreya said.

"The interview went well. The results should be out by tomorrow. I'm so nervous - I don't know what to think," Ayla admitted, her voice tinged with anxiety.

"Don't stress about it," Shreya reassured her. "I'm sure it'll be good news. You've worked so hard!"

The two friends continued chatting for a while, with Shreya offering support and making Ayla laugh until her worries seemed to melt away. But Ayla didn't tell her about the diary. She kept that secret to herself.

That night, as Ayla lay in bed, she found herself staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Her mind was filled with questions about Ethan Hart. Who was he? What was his story? The words from his diary echoed in her thoughts, tugging at her heart. It wasn't just curiosity anymore - it was a strange connection, as though the diary had bridged a gap between two strangers. She closed her eyes, clutching the pillow, and whispered to herself, I need to know more.

After some time she falls asleep...

The next morning, she woke up early. After freshening up, she quickly had her breakfast, eager to dive back into her book. Without wasting a moment, she picked it up and began reading exactly from where she had left off, as if she had been waiting all night to return to that world.

ONE SIDED LOVE ??

"They say some moments stay etched in your mind forever - the kind that seem insignificant to the world but change everything for you. For me, that moment happened on a regular Wednesday afternoon, outside the library."

Ayla paused as she read, her fingers tracing the edges of the page. She felt an odd pull, as though the words were drawing her deeper into Ethan's life.

"I was rushing to the library, as usual, late for an assignment submission. That's when I saw her for the first time. She was sitting on the steps, reading a book with such focus that the world around her seemed to fade away. Her hair fell messily over her face, and she kept pushing it back with an absentminded flick of her hand. She was smiling softly, lost in whatever story she was reading, and for a moment, I forgot why I was in such a hurry."

Ayla smiled as she read, picturing the scene in her head.

"I didn't know her name, or even why I felt so drawn to her. All I knew was that something about her felt...familiar, as if I'd been waiting to meet her without even realizing it. I wanted to know what made her smile like that, what kind of stories lit up her eyes."

The words tugged at Ayla's heart, but she kept reading.

"I started noticing her everywhere after that day - in the cafeteria, the library, even by the campus fountain. She always had a book with her, always lost in thought. I wanted to talk to her, but every time I got close, my courage failed me. What would I even say? 'Hi, I've been watching you read for weeks now'? No, that would sound insane. So, I stayed silent, watching from afar."

Ayla couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Ethan fumbling with his words. She turned the page, her curiosity growing.

"One day, I got lucky. She dropped her notebook while walking down the hallway, and I picked it up for her. She smiled and said, 'Thank you,' and I swear, I've never heard two words sound so perfect. I wanted to keep that moment alive forever, but it ended as quickly as it began. She walked away, and I just stood there, wishing I'd said more."

Ayla felt her heart flutter. She could almost hear the unspoken words in Ethan's mind, the longing he must have felt in that moment.

"Over time, I noticed the little things about her - the way she hummed softly when she thought no one was listening, how she'd twist her pen while writing, or the way she crinkled her nose when she was lost in thought. She had this quiet charm, an effortless way of turning ordinary moments into something extraordinary. She wasn't trying to be remarkable, but to me, she was."

Ayla's hands trembled slightly as she turned the page. The intimacy of Ethan's words, the way he saw this girl, felt deeply personal.

"I started writing about her. I wrote about the way she made rainy days feel like sunshine, about the way her presence made the world lighter. But I could never tell her. She deserved someone bold, someone who could meet her halfway. And I? I wasn't that person. So, I stayed in the background, cheering for her silently, wishing her happiness even if it didn't include me."

Ayla's chest tightened as she reached the final lines of the entry.

"Sometimes, loving someone means letting them be free. Even if it leaves you with nothing but memories."

She closed the diary, her hands resting on the cover, her mind swirling with thoughts. The way Ethan had written about this girl - it was as though she were the very air he breathed, the quiet center of his universe.

Ayla stared at the diary, lost in thought. "Who was she?" she whispered to herself. "Did she ever know how much she meant to him?"

**She had no idea that the girl Ethan had poured his heart out for was sitting right there, holding the story of his love in her hands.**??