[STORY] Rule number two—don’t fall in love with a stranger

I didn’t plan for it. In fact, it started with a mistake.

I had booked a cheap flight deal at 2 AM while half-asleep, thinking I was getting a budget-friendly weekend trip to Lisbon.

Turns out, I accidentally clicked on “one-way” instead of “round-trip.”

When I landed, I only realized the error after pulling out my crumpled boarding pass. No return flight. Just me, my oversized backpack, and a city I’d never been to.

“Great,” I muttered to myself, dragging my carry-on through the airport. “Solo travel mode unlocked, I guess.”

The first night, I booked the cheapest hostel I could find. It was one of those hidden gems travel blogs rave about—paint peeling off the walls, squeaky bunk beds, and a receptionist with neon-blue hair who greeted me with:

“First time backpacking?” she smirked.

I nodded.

“Well, rule number one—never trust the free WiFi. Rule number two—don’t fall in love with a stranger. Rule number three—if you do, at least get their WhatsApp.”

Everyone laughed in the common room. I did too, but deep down, I had no idea this trip was about to test every one of those rules.

The next morning, I joined a walking food tour that promised authentic local food. The guide, an energetic guy named Marco, waved a flag and shouted, “Who’s ready for the best pastel de nata of your life?”

I raised my hand faster than I’ve ever volunteered for anything.

We walked through winding cobblestone streets, stopping at tiny bakeries, seafood stalls, and markets where old ladies argued over sardines. I could smell roasted chestnuts mixing with sea breeze. Every corner felt like a movie scene.

That’s where I met her.

She had a vintage film camera hanging from her neck and freckles that caught the sunlight like a filter. We kept ending up next to each other at every stop.

“You’re traveling solo too?” she asked as we bit into custard tarts.

“Yeah. Accidentally,” I laughed, explaining the one-way ticket mistake.

She grinned. “Accidents make the best adventures.”

We spent the entire day talking—about everything from cheap travel hacks to our favorite Spotify playlists. By the evening, we were sitting at the edge of the Tagus River, watching the golden sunset turn the city into fire.

For the first time, solo travel didn’t feel lonely.

But here’s the thing—when you meet someone while traveling, it feels like life is fast-forwarding.

On the third night, she confessed, “I wasn’t supposed to be here either. I was meant to go to Paris. But my ex was meeting someone there, and I… I couldn’t face it.”

Her voice cracked. Suddenly, the girl with the camera wasn’t just a carefree traveler. She was running away, just like me.

We had both escaped—different reasons, same destination.

The next morning, I woke up to find her bunk empty. A note was taped to my backpack.

“Don’t hate me. I couldn’t say goodbye. Maybe we’ll meet again in another city, another mistake, another story. Until then, keep traveling.”

I just sat there, holding the note, feeling the weight of it.

I checked my bank app, laughed at how broke I was, and whispered to myself, “Guess I’ll book another one-way ticket.”