CHAPTER 2 - Dopamine

At first, I thought our conversation would end there. Just two people who had once been in the same elementary school class, unexpectedly finding each other again after years through a social media app. Nothing more. At least, that was what I thought. I didn’t expect Tiar to become part of my everyday life. I didn’t expect his name to become one of the first things I looked for when I woke up. And I definitely didn’t expect a simple conversation with someone from my childhood to make me feel something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

But I was wrong.

Because after that first conversation, Tiar started appearing more often. It began with simple messages. “Are you at work?” “Yeah.” “Tired?” “A little.” “Have you eaten?” “Not yet.” Nothing special. Nothing that should have made my heart beat faster. But somehow, those small conversations never stayed small. One question became another. One answer became another story. And before I realized it, we could spend hours talking about things that didn’t really matter—work, college, old friends, our lives after elementary school, things we remembered, things we had forgotten, and random thoughts that came out of nowhere. Sometimes we didn’t even have a proper topic, yet somehow, the conversation always continued. And I liked it. More than I wanted to admit.

I started getting used to seeing his name on my screen.

Tiar.

At first, it was simply the name of someone from my past. Someone I used to know. Someone I hadn’t thought about in years. But little by little, that name became something I waited for. I started checking my phone more often, not because I was expecting a work message or an important notification, but because I was simply hoping to see one particular name: Tiar. And the most embarrassing part? I started smiling every time his name appeared. A real smile. The kind that happened before I even had time to stop it. Sometimes I would be in the middle of working when my phone vibrated. I would glance at the screen, and there it was—his name. My mood would change instantly. It was ridiculous. I knew it was ridiculous. But I couldn’t help it. I would open the message and read it with a stupid little smile on my face, then try to hide it whenever someone happened to look my way. I started wondering when exactly this had happened. When did talking to him become something I looked forward to? When did his messages become capable of changing my mood? When did I start waiting for someone? I didn’t know. And honestly, I was a little scared to find out.

I didn’t know when everything started to change, but I began feeling something I hadn’t felt in a long time. A spark. It wasn’t dramatic. There were no fireworks, no cinematic moment, nothing that looked like the beginning of a love story. It was just a tiny feeling. A little warmth somewhere inside me. A little excitement whenever I saw his name. A reason to smile in the middle of an ordinary day. And somehow, that little spark made my life feel brighter. I became more excited about going to work. The same job that had sometimes felt repetitive suddenly didn’t feel so exhausting anymore. I woke up differently. I had something to look forward to. Someone to talk to. Someone whose day I wanted to know about. Sometimes, while I was working, I would suddenly remember something he had said the night before, and I would smile just like that, for no reason. Or maybe there was a reason. His name. His jokes. His attention. The way he talked to me.

I began asking myself a question. “What is this?” And then I would laugh at myself because the question sounded ridiculous. What could it possibly be? Could I really… be falling in love? But how? I had only just found him again. We had known each other as children, but years had passed. So many things had happened between then and now. Tiar wasn’t the same boy I remembered from elementary school, and I wasn’t the same girl either. We had grown up. We had built separate lives. We had our own stories, our own disappointments, our own dreams, and our own scars. There were so many things about him that I didn’t know, and there were even more things about me that he didn’t know.

Maybe that was why talking to him felt so easy. He didn’t know my past. He didn’t know what had happened with Mike. He didn’t know about the decisions I had made. He didn’t know the things I regretted. He didn’t know how hard I had been trying to build a better life for myself. He didn’t know the parts of me that I wasn’t proud of. To him, I was simply Laya. And strangely enough… being just Laya felt good. I didn’t have to explain myself. I didn’t have to defend my choices. I didn’t have to carry the weight of everything that had happened before. I could just talk, laugh, complain about work, tell him random stories, ask him random questions, and for the first time in a while, I didn’t feel like I was trying to be enough for someone. I was simply myself. And he seemed to like that version of me.

Days passed, and our conversations became more frequent. If before we only exchanged a few messages, now we could talk for hours, sometimes until midnight, sometimes even later. Sometimes we talked about serious things. Sometimes we talked about absolutely nothing. He would send me something random, I would reply with something even more random, he would tease me, I would pretend to be annoyed, and then we would both laugh. It became a routine without either of us ever saying that it was. Morning messages. Random conversations throughout the day. Long chats at night.

And somewhere along the way, I started memorizing his habits. I knew approximately when he would be online. I started recognizing the way he typed, the way he joked, the little expressions he used, and the way he called my name. Things I had never consciously decided to remember, yet somehow, I remembered them. I began to realize something that made me slightly afraid. I was getting used to him. I was getting used to hearing from him, getting used to telling him about my day, getting used to hearing about his, getting used to his little acts of attention. And without realizing it, I had started making space for him in my routine. That was probably the dangerous part. Because once someone becomes part of your routine, their absence starts to feel different. You notice it. You feel it. You start wondering where they are. And I wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

Then one day, Tiar did something that completely destroyed my ability to act normal. He sent me a screenshot. I opened the message casually. I wasn’t expecting anything, just another screenshot. Until I noticed something—his contact name for me.

I stared at the screen.

It wasn’t… Laya.

I frowned. Then I read his message.

“Your name in my contacts isn’t Laya anymore, you know.”

I blinked.

Another message came in.

“I changed your name to Dopamine.”

I stared at the screen. For a few seconds, I didn’t move. Then his next message appeared.

“Because you make my days happier.”

Oh my God.

I swear, I didn’t know what to do with myself. My heart immediately started beating faster. A smile appeared on my face before I could stop it. I read the message again. Once. Twice. Three times.

Dopamine.

He had saved my name as Dopamine. Not because it was funny. Not because it was some random nickname. But because, according to him, I made his days happier. I immediately covered my face with both hands.

“Oh my God…”

I laughed. Actually laughed. Alone in my room.

I was so embarrassed, even though there was no one there to see me. I was blushing. I was genuinely, painfully, ridiculously flustered. I didn’t know what to reply. If I joked about it, I was afraid I would sound too happy. If I replied casually, I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull it off. Because inside my head, I was screaming.

HE SAID I MAKE HIS DAYS HAPPIER.

I looked at the screenshot again. There it was. My name. Not Laya. Dopamine.

And somehow, one simple word made everything feel different.

Because suddenly I realized… maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling something.

I didn’t know whether Tiar understood how much that sentence affected me. Maybe for him, it was just a sweet little expression. Maybe he was teasing me. Maybe he simply wanted to make me smile. Or maybe… he really meant it. Maybe I had actually become someone special to him. I didn’t know. But for me, those words stayed in my head all day. I carried them with me to work. While I was doing my job, they would suddenly come back.

“I changed your name to Dopamine because you make my days happier.”

And I would smile.

Again.

By myself.

Again.

I started feeling like an idiot, but I didn’t care. Because it had been such a long time since I had felt this way—the feeling that one message from someone could change your entire mood, the feeling that seeing someone’s name could make your chest feel warm, the feeling that the first thing you wanted to check after waking up was whether that person had sent you a message.

Maybe… this was what falling in love felt like.

Maybe falling in love wasn’t always dramatic. Maybe it wasn’t always about grand gestures or beautiful declarations. Maybe sometimes it was simply a message asking, “Have you eaten?” Maybe it was someone remembering a small detail you had mentioned days ago. Maybe it was staying up late because neither of you wanted the conversation to end. Maybe it was laughing at something that wasn’t even funny simply because the person saying it made you happy. Maybe it was hearing someone say, “You make my days happier,” and suddenly realizing that those words meant more to you than they probably should.

After that day, I started noticing even more changes in myself. I smiled more. I looked forward to work more. I checked my phone more often. I waited for nighttime because nighttime was usually when we had more time to talk. I started noticing things I had never paid attention to before. I knew when he was busy. I knew when he was likely to reply late. I knew when he was tired just from the way he typed. Sometimes I could tell he was in a good mood without him actually saying it.

And I wondered if he could do the same with me.

Could he tell when I was smiling while typing? Could he tell when I was secretly excited to see his message? Could he tell how often I looked at his name? Probably not. At least, I hoped not. Because if he knew… I would probably never survive the embarrassment.

But the truth was becoming harder to deny.

I didn’t just find Tiar interesting anymore. I didn’t just enjoy talking to him. I liked him. I really liked him. Maybe more than I was willing to admit. And perhaps that was why his little nickname affected me so much. Because deep down, I wanted to know that I mattered to him too.

One night, after our conversation finally ended, I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. My phone was still in my hand. I opened our chat again. I scrolled through our messages, read a few things we had said earlier, then stopped. My eyes landed on his name.

Tiar.

And immediately, I remembered the screenshot.

Dopamine.

I smiled.

Then I asked myself the question again.

“Is this what falling in love feels like?”

I laughed quietly because I still didn’t know the answer. But if falling in love meant feeling happy simply because someone existed in your life… then maybe. If falling in love meant waiting for someone’s messages… then maybe. If falling in love meant smiling just because you saw their name… then definitely. And if falling in love meant someone who had once been nothing more than a childhood classmate could suddenly become the reason your ordinary days felt lighter… then maybe… I really was falling in love.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like there was something in my life that made me excited again. Not work. Not money. Not plans for the future.

A person.

Someone I hadn’t even imagined would return to my life.

Tiar.

And without realizing it, I started waiting for him every day.

Of course, I knew I should be careful. I had just ended things with Mike. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. I wanted something serious. I wanted someone with direction. Someone emotionally mature. Someone who could become a partner in building a life, not simply someone who filled the empty spaces when I felt lonely.

I didn’t want to love someone just because I was afraid of being alone. I didn’t want to stay with someone simply because I was afraid of losing them. I wanted something different this time. Something real. Something that had a future.

And Tiar… somehow, he seemed to fit into the picture I had created in my head. He was studying International Relations at a private university in another city. He had his own plans, his own world, his own future. And there was something about the way he carried himself that made me feel like he knew where he was going. Maybe that was one of the reasons I was drawn to him.

I had spent so long worrying about my own future. About money. About stability. About whether I was moving forward or simply surviving. And then there was Tiar. Talking to him made me feel like maybe I didn’t have to figure everything out alone. Maybe I could meet someone who had dreams of his own. Someone who could walk beside me while I built mine.

But I knew better than to build a future around a feeling that had only just begun. So I tried to tell myself not to get carried away. I tried to be rational. I tried to remind myself that we were still getting to know each other.

But feelings don’t care about logic.

They don’t wait until you’re ready.

They don’t ask permission.

They simply arrive.

Quietly.

Slowly.

Through conversations.

Through laughter.

Through attention.

Through late-night messages.

Through a simple screenshot.

And through one unexpected name.

Dopamine.

Looking back, that was probably the moment when I stopped seeing Tiar as just someone from my past. He was becoming someone in my present. Someone I wanted to hear from. Someone I wanted to tell things to. Someone whose day I cared about. Someone whose happiness somehow started to matter to me.

And maybe that was the beginning.

Not the beginning of our relationship. Not yet.

But the beginning of my feelings. The beginning of the part of me that started wondering what it would be like if Tiar stayed. If this wasn’t just a temporary connection. If the person who had suddenly returned to my life was actually meant to remain in it.

I didn’t know.

At that time, I knew almost nothing about what would happen next. I didn’t know how deeply I would fall. I didn’t know how many memories we would create. I didn’t know how much he would become a part of my life. And I certainly didn’t know that one day, the same person who made me smile every day would also become someone capable of breaking my heart.

But back then… I didn’t think about any of that.

I was simply happy.

Happy to wake up and see his name. Happy to have someone to talk to. Happy to have something to look forward to after work. Happy because someone, somewhere, had decided that my name belonged beside a word that meant happiness.

Dopamine.

Maybe I really was falling in love.

And maybe…

he was falling too.