The message sat on the screen:
"Yeah. It did."
He read it three times. Maybe four.
It wasn't a confession. It wasn't even an expression of feelings. But to him, it was something rarer—acknowledgment.
He placed his phone down on the nightstand beside his bed. The light from the screen left a lingering glow on his face. For a few seconds, everything inside him was still.
And then it started.
His fingers drummed against his stomach. A nervous habit. His eyes fixated on the ceiling, tracing invisible constellations. Her voice echoed in his ears. Not the words, but the way she said them—the laughter between syllables, the way she paused when she thought too much, the little uptick at the end of her sentences.
He smiled. And then immediately ran a hand down his face in frustration.
"What is happening to me…" he whispered to no one.
He wasn't new to attraction. But this? This was something that lived deeper in his chest—right next to the steady beating of his heart. It didn't race. It thudded. Solid. Grounded.
He wasn't falling.
He had already fallen.
It wasn't the beach, or the café, or the sunset. It was everything in between. The way she blinked twice when surprised. The way she feigned annoyance but always listened. The way her presence calmed him, when most people just filled silence.
"God…" he muttered under his breath, dragging the blanket over his chest.
He wasn't scared. But he was overwhelmed.
He had to be sure. He didn't want to ruin what they had, not with something impulsive. Not with something he hadn't even said out loud to himself.
But there it was.
A quiet revelation.
He stared at the screen again. The chat still open. Her name glowing softly.
He liked her. Truly. Fully. Completely.
And somewhere deep inside, he knew—this wasn't going away anytime soon..