My name is Jessica. I'm from Croatia, and this is the story of how my best friend became the love of my life. Emma and I met in our first year at university in Zagreb. We were both studying design and quickly became close — two slightly odd, somewhat reserved girls brought together by a shared sense of humor, late-night talks, and a mutual dislike of clubs and loud crowds. We were those kinds of friends — the kind who knew everything about each other: who we were ing with, what fears we were hiding, what we secretly dreamed about at night. Somewhere during our second year, things got... more interesting. One night, after a couple glasses of , our conversations went a bit too far. Or maybe too close. We had sex. Spontaneous, intense, with no promises. At first, we told ourselves it didn’t mean anything. Just two bodies, comfortable with each other. No strings attached. No feelings. Sometimes we laughed after, sometimes we just fell a together. It was our little secret — something that brought us closer, but on a different level. But slowly, I started to notice strange feelings. Jealousy. Warmth when she looked at me. Hurt when she flirted with others. I tried to ignore it. Thought it would go away. It didn’t. One day, when she kissed me, I realized I didn’t want to be just her sex friend anymore. I wanted to be her person. Completely. I confessed. Quietly. In her room, while it was raining outside. I told her I couldn’t pretend anymore. And she just hugged me. And said, "Finally." Now we’re together. Officially. No more "just because," no more secret looks. It wasn’t perfect — we had to work through ourselves, get used to a new reality. But I feel like I’m finally home. Not in a place, but in a person. We’re still the same friends. Only now, when I hold her hand, it’s not just out of habit. It’s out of love. The kind that grew from trust, bodies, and late-night talks — and stayed because it became something real.