The Stranger from Lucania

First and foremost, I want to tell you how I ended up where we met. My feet carried me there, as if they already knew where I was supposed to stop. They sensed the pull before I did, leading me to that moment—to you.

And I didn’t have to wait for you. You appeared, as if from nowhere, in a country as unfamiliar as your skin. You came like an angel meant to guide me, showing up just when I had no idea which direction to take next.

You said hey, your accent thick and new to me—and yet, my heart responded like it had always known you. It smiled before I did, recognizing something I hadn’t yet understood.

When you asked me where the buses were, I was already ready to leave with you.

My heart didn’t care that you were a stranger. It only knew one thing—you were what it had been searching for all these years. The reason I stopped falling for the wrong people again and again. The reason I chose to wait for the right one.

While I waited, I prayed and begged God to send that person to my doorstep. Not just any man—but the most caring and loving one He had ever created. Not someone who weighed his options before choosing me or measured what he could take from me. I asked for you. Someone like you. To walk into my arms. The right person—someone who would support me, love me for who I am, and most of all, be willing to stay.

In the little time we spent together, you laughed with your whole heart every single time. You laughed mostly at how you were teaching me words in your language, only for me to mix them up by the end of the lesson—not knowing which word belonged to lips and which to the nose. You laughed so genuinely, then taught me again, as patiently as before.

We wandered for a while, unsure of what to do or where to go, but neither of us wanted to say goodbye just yet. I offered to help with your luggage, but you refused. Instead, you insisted on carrying my light plastic bag, even with the heavy load you already held.

You watched me speak with such interest, telling me funny stories in return. Because you mostly used your language, I had to ask:

"You mean like a big creature? "A monster?"

You kept explaining until I finally said, "Ahhh, you mean goblin."

"I’ve heard stories about goblins," I told you.

Cobalus.

"Is that what you call goblins in your language?" I asked.

"God, I thought that name belonged to a human being," I teased.

You laughed again. It was strange how you barely understood English, yet we spoke so effortlessly, understanding each other without any real struggle. I was careful not to use complicated words that might leave us stuck in awkward explanations. Still, you were determined to teach me your language—the hard words, the obscure ones—as if you didn’t want me to learn at all.

I understood why. Your face said everything—what was the point? After all, we were going to part ways.

We found a spot and sat down. You suggested we take some photos together, but I was too shy to pose with someone I had just met. I asked, “What if you use my photos badly?”

You laughed and said, “Why would I use our photos inappropriately?”

You had already taken a few shots before politely asking if I could take off my mask. I replied, “I have a bad flu, and I wouldn’t want you sneezing like a madman on your next flight.”

"And guess what?" I teased. "When the plane lands, everyone on board will have caught a cold too."

You smiled and agreed, then gently took my hands in yours. “Let me keep you hot,” you said. And you weren’t lying. Your hands were burning, and your heartbeat thudded against my skin.

I wondered if that was normal for you, or if it was because of the sudden change in temperature. I wanted to ask why you were so warm, but I kept quiet—it would’ve sounded like I was flirting.

The warmth travelled through me, spreading up my arms, my body growing hotter. Somewhere, I felt damp, as if my skin was cooling itself down. Your deep blue eyes had swept me off my feet, carrying me to a place I had never been.

I dreaded the moment we would have to part, when the darkness would settle in and your flight time would come rushing toward us like a speeding bullet.

You told me about your country, your family, your sister—how much you loved her, how you couldn't travel with her anymore because she was married now and living in Germany. You said you couldn’t manage a single day without her because she had taken care of you, because she loved you the most.

You told me you were an uncle and that one day, you’d travel often with your niece—if her father allowed it. “He loves them so much,” you said. That’s what you told me about your brother-in-law.

I was jealous of your sister—the one you adore, the one who is everything to everyone else. And yet there I stood, right in front of you, and you couldn’t see that I was everything you ever needed. Someone who would love you and care for you, just as your sister always had.

Before you left, you took my contact information and promised to keep in touch. I still can’t believe it took you three full months to reach out. I imagine you had finished traveling, sat down to delete photos from your gallery, and stumbled on that picture—the one of a Black woman you met in Botswana. And only then did you remember me.

You have no idea that I was waiting from the moment you disappeared around that corner. I waited for a text, a call—anything. But nothing came. All I did during that time was yearn for you, hoping you would come back.

I abandoned reality and stepped into a world that existed only in my mind—one where we had our own forever. Somehow, that imagined world felt more real than you—the person I met, yet who now feels like an illusion. A face that doesn’t exist.

Do you not believe in us?

Are we really going to ignore the forces that brought us together? I could have gone nowhere, snapped back to my senses, and gone home. You could have met someone else—someone rude, someone who wouldn’t have cared enough to tell you where you were or which way to go.

But look at the universe. It led you to the right person—the one you were desperately praying for in that exact moment.

Remember how you got there. Just like me, your feet carried you while you were lost in a foreign place. Out of all the places you could have gotten lost, why there? Not behind some building, not in a parking lot—but right there. Where I stood. That alone still gives me hope.

But this will be just another one of the thousands of letters I’ve written about us—only to destroy it at the end of the day. Because I can’t let you find out.

Find out that I fell in love at first sight.

Find out that I want to be with you.

And yet, I still can’t stop hoping the universe will bring us back together. That this time, fate won’t let us part.