You’ve come into possession of one vial of truth serum. Who would you give it to (with the person’s consent, of course) — and what questions would you ask?

Everyone must have had a first love, no matter how old they are.

Your first love can be the first boy your heart ever skips a beat for in that elementary school, but it can also be the person that made you truly understand what love means at all for the first time.

I have one too, and I can imagine sitting in a small cafe with him. I can imagine handing him the truth serum and seeing him gulp them down. I can imagine myself contemplating on questions to ask him as flashback comes, reminding me of all the things that could have happened.

But still, the first question would probably be, “Did you ever love me?”

Then I would wait for an answer, and if he said yes, I would wait until the serum wears off before I start making a conversation. Then we’d talk. After years of never meeting each other, we’d talk about how things could have worked out, how subtle hints in the past was meant to be a special gesture, how those days spent together was supposed to grow into something more if only the two of us had the courage to say something.

Then we’d laugh over silly confessions that are already too outdated that it doesn’t matter anymore. We’d tell each other how much the other person meant for each of us in the past, and we’d talk about a story of what could have been.

But then we’d realize that it was too late, we both moved on, and it was great meeting each other again after all these years.

And if there is one thing I hate from a love story, it is a story that could have happened but didn’t, all because the universe was against it. So it goes to waste, and nothing remains except the bittersweet words of ‘what if’, ‘should have’, and ‘if only’.