My Lost Diary

I sat at my usual table in a coffee shop, my fingers dancing nimbly over the keyboard of my laptop. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries, and the buzz of conversation from other customers provided a soothing background noise.

As I typed away, I took a sip of my latte and, refocused on my writing. I had been working on a novel for months, and I was determined to finish it soon, I glanced in my diary and used some ideas and lines from it to spice up my characters and scenes.

But as I continued, I couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. What if someone stumbled upon my manuscript before it was ready to be shared with the world?

I shook my head, dismissing the thought as paranoia. No one would bother with my writing, especially in a busy coffee shop like this. Besides, I haven't yet come up with a great title for my novel.

I took another sip of my latte and continued scrolling through the pages of the manuscript on my laptop.

Just then, Mardy walked in with her 3 obnoxious disciples. She is my high school nemesis. I'm still annoyed at the time when Mardy had spread rumours about me and caused a great deal of embarrassment.

Mardy and I had a complicated relationship, to say the least. We had been friends in middle school, but since high school started, we grew apart, and now, we were just frenemies.

I tried to conceal myself in the buzz of the customers but she spotted me and walked up to me.

"Hey, Kimberly. How are you?" she asked, trying to be friendly.

I reluctantly glanced up at her, and I could tell she was not in the mood for a friendly chat. "What do you want, Mardy?" I asked, my tone sharp.

"I love your new hair style," she said. But her face revealed that it was a tease. I concealed my anger and replied politely. "Thank you."

Mardy's  eyes fixed on my laptop on the table. "What are you writing?" she said, snatching the laptop from my hands before I could react. "A little story? How cute." She teased.

"Give it back, Mardy," I said through gritted teeth.

"Why should I?" Mardy said. "It's not like there's anything interesting in here. Just your stupid little thoughts and feelings."

"That's none of your business," I replied, standing up from my chair. "Give it back, now!"

Mardy just laughed, and tossed the laptop on the floor. "Make me," she said, her eyes narrowing.

The other customers in the coffee shop watched us in shock. I could see others covering their mouths.

I felt a surge of rage welling up inside me as I gazed at my laptop on the floor in broken pieces. How I desired to punch her in the face, but I restrained myself from doing such a thing in front of the customers.

"What is your problem?!" I barked.

"My problem is that you always act like you're better than everyone else. You think you're so perfect, but let me tell you, you're not," she retorted.

I was getting frustrated with Mardy's accusations. "I don't act like I'm better than everyone else. You're just jealous because I work hard to achieve my goals, and you don't," I replied.

"You don't know anything about me, Kimberly," Mardy shot back. "And I'm not jealous of you. I have better things to do with my life than obsess over your achievements."

The argument escalated from there, and before I knew it, we were shouting at each other. I don't even remember what we were arguing about; it was all a blur. I do remember packing up my laptop pieces and storming out of the coffee shop leaving Mardy standing there with a stunned look on her face. I was feeling angry and hurt.

As I walked away, I could feel my heart racing and my hands shaking from the earlier experience. I knew that the argument with Mardy wasn't over, and that things were only going to get worse from here. But for now, I just needed to find a quiet place where I could calm down and collect my thoughts.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized I had left my diary on the table. I had been chronicling my thoughts and feelings for the past year, and the idea that someone might find it and read it sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't believe I had been so careless.

The argument with Mardy had completely consumed me, and I hadn't even realized I had left my diary behind. It was the worst feeling, knowing that my deepest, most private thoughts were out there, for anyone to find.

*Few Hours Later*

I approached the coffee shop, my heart palpating incessantly in my chest. My mind was consumed with apprehension at the thought of someone, particularly someone familiar, uncovering the musings I had chronicled for an entire year in my diary, which I had left on the table on my last visit.

As I drew nearer to the entrance, my worst fears started to materialize. I peered through the transparent door and to my dismay, my diary was nowhere in sight. A jolt of adrenaline surged through my veins, my heart racing even faster than before. My hands quivered uncontrollably, impeding my ability to push open the door. I was compelled to launch an investigation.

Fortunately, an elderly gentleman caught sight of my distress and offered me his assistance. He took it upon himself to open the door for me and whispered in my ear, "Please, do come in, ma'am." I glanced at him, his countenance radiant with a brilliant smile to which I responded with a strange one.

Hurriedly, I made my way inside the coffee shop, almost colliding with the waitress who stopped abruptly and apologized. "I apologize, I didn't see you there."

"It's alright," I replied, my voice trembling. "Did you happen to see a diary on my table?"

Her delayed response elicited a shroud of goosebumps on my skin. "I'm afraid not. I wasn't the one who took your diary," she replied, her response after a moment of contemplation.

"What do you mean?" I interjected. "Who took my diary?"

"That girl you were arguing with picked up your diary. I assumed she returned it to you," she said.

"Mardy?!" I exclaimed in disbelief, the realization that Mardy, my arch-nemesis, had found my diary and was now privy to my deepest, most private thoughts, caused my heart to race even faster. I couldn't control my breathing, and although the waitress offered me a glass of chilled water, I declined and dashed outside the shop.

It felt like the darkest moment of my life, my most intimate secrets now at the mercy of the most vexing person on the planet. Mardy and I were sworn enemies, and I knew she would exploit any opportunity to get to me. I was doomed.

"Kimberly!" Someone called out to me repeatedly. "Wait a minute, Kimberly!" At that point, I felt numb, my movements involuntary, as if I was being buffeted by the winds.

I turned around and saw Ryan, the object of my affection, standing before me with my diary clutched tightly in his hand. I was motionless, as my heart plummeted into my stomach. I felt weak in the knees, uncertain of how I managed to support my weight. "What is Ryan doing with my diary?" I asked myself. "The waitress told me Mardy picked it up. Did she give Ryan a chance to read it too? That girl is a real demon."

"Hey," Ryan interrupted my inner monologue. I could feel my face flushing crimson.

"Are you alright?" He inquired.

I nodded affirmatively, my eyes trained on the diary in his hand.

He noticed my fixation and extended his hand toward me. "Regarding your diary-"

"Yeah, I know. You must have read it and found out I have a crush on you, and now you're returning it to witness my reaction. But the truth is Mardy already inflamed my emotions when she handed it over to you, so-"

"I was going to say," Ryan interjected. "I saw Mardy with your diary, and I knew you were not friends, so I took it from her before she could peruse your secrets. I can assure you that I have not read a single page in your diary. My house is not a safe place, my brothers are always reading books with pretty covers so I thought I should bring it back to you. Since you like coming here I thought this would be the first place to look for you."

I breathed a sigh of relief as Ryan explained how he had come into possession of my diary. It was a weight off my shoulders to know that my private thoughts were still intact. My emotions were still in turmoil, but I was grateful to Ryan for rescuing my diary from Mardy's clutches.

"Thank you so much, Ryan," I said, still feeling embarrassed. "I was so afraid someone had read it."

"No problem, Kimberly," Ryan replied with a smile. "I'm glad I could help."

My heart swelled with relief, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I was able to breathe normally. Ryan's words were like a balm to my troubled soul, and I felt a rush of gratitude toward him. I gingerly took my diary from his hand and clutched it to my chest, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

As I took my diary back from him, our hands brushed against each other, and a jolt of electricity shot through my body. It was a feeling I couldn't deny or ignore any longer.

"Ryan," I said, my voice shaking. "I need to tell you something."

He looked at me expectantly, his eyes filled with warmth and kindness.

"I know this might sound crazy, but... I have feelings for you," I blurted out, unable to contain the words any longer.

Ryan's expression softened, and he took a step closer to me. "Kimberly, I had no idea," he said, his voice gentle. "I have feelings for you too."

Relief and joy flooded through me, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "Really?" I asked, barely daring to believe it.

"Yes, really," Ryan replied, his eyes locking onto mine. "I've liked you for a long time, but I didn't know how to tell you."

We stood there for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes, both of us feeling a little dazed by the sudden turn of events.

"Would you like to go out with me sometime?" Ryan asked, breaking the silence.

I nodded, a smile spreading across my face. "I'd love to," I said, feeling happier than I had in a long time.

As Ryan and I walked by the coffee shop, our fingers interlocked, I knew deep down that my life had taken a new turn. The dread and apprehension that had been gnawing at me for days were now replaced by a thrilling sense of expectation and optimism for what lay ahead. "I can't wait to see where this new relationship takes us," I murmured to Ryan, beaming up at him.

Before I knew it, I had finished writing my novel. It was an account of how my diary had played a crucial role in initiating a relationship with my long-time crush. Despite the skeptics who dismissed it as pure fiction, to me, it was an accurate depiction of reality. As I pondered over a title for my masterpiece, "My Lost Diary" seemed like the perfect fit. "I want the world to know our story," I confided in Ryan, eager for his input. "I want them to know how we came to be."