It was a Sunday afternoon. Not too quiet, not too loud. Ellie sat on the rooftop of her boarding house, legs crossed, phone in hand, wind brushing her cheeks.
Ady: "Hey. You free?"
Ellie: "Always."
She smiled the moment she saw his name pop up. No matter how many times they called, she never got tired of hearing his voice.
The call connected.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hi," he replied. "I missed your voice."
Ellie looked away, hiding her smile. "We just talked two days ago."
"I know," Ady said. "Still."
There was a silence — not awkward, just calm. Like they were both holding something gently, afraid to drop it.
Ady broke it first.
"Ellie, can I ask you something kind of... serious?"
Her chest tightened. "Of course."
"Have you ever thought... I mean—" he hesitated, then took a, "—have you ever thought about how we ended up here? Like, from strangers to this?"
breath Ellie nodded slowly. "All the time."
"And?" he asked.
"I think," she said, "you're one of the best things that happened to me this year."
He was quiet for a second. Then he whispered, "Same."
They Didn't Plan to Say It, But They Did
The wind carried soft music from a nearby room. Ellie pulled her hoodie tighter.
"Ady?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm slowly falling for you."
There. It was out.
Not dramatic. Not in a rush. Just the truth.
Ady didn't speak right away. She could hear his breath on the other end. Then finally, his voice came through — low, honest, real.
"I was afraid to say it first," he admitted. "But I've been feeling the same."
Ellie laughed nervously. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," Ady said. "Like... every time we talk, it's the best part of my day. And when we don't, I catch myself wishing you'd message.
No," he said, smiling through the phone. "We're just two people in different places, slowly losing it together."
The Past That Brought Them Here
I thought I was the only one going crazy," Ellie said, half-joking.
"After a few minutes of silence — the kind filled with warmth — Ady spoke again.
"Can I ask something personal?"
"Go ahead."
"What were your past relationships like?"
Ellie blinked, surprised. "That's a bit sudden."
"I know. You don't have to answer if—"
"No, it's okay," she interrupted. "Just… no one's ever asked that gently."
Ady waited.
"I've had three," she said finally. "None of them lasted long. Maybe three or four months each. I guess I get scared when people get too close."
"Why?" he asked gently.
"I think I give too much too fast," Ellie admitted. "And when I don't get the same back, I overthink everything. Then I pull away before I get hurt."
Ady was quiet. Then: "You didn't deserve that, El."
She smiled softly at the nickname.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I had one," he said. "Lasted a year."
"Why did it end?"
"She cheated," he said simply. "And then said she didn't feel anything when I found out."
Ellie's heart tightened. "That's awful."
Ady sighed. "It was a long time ago. But... I think it left a crack somewhere."
They both sat with that for a while — the honesty, the hurt, the shared past that made them who they were.
"I don't know if I'm ready for another heartbreak," Ellie said quietly.
Ady replied, "Me neither. That's why I don't want to rush this."
Later that night, after dinner, they called again — this time with no heavy topics. Just random jokes and music.
Ellie was brushing her hair when she asked, "What do you think life would look like if we actually ended up together?"
Ady paused. "Honestly?"
"Yeah."
"I think… we'd annoy each other a lot."
Ellie laughed. "Wow. Thanks."
"No, I mean it in a good way," Ady said, laughing too. "Like, I'd leave my socks everywhere and you'd threaten to throw them in the trash."
"You better not," she said, grinning. "I'd hide your charger out of revenge."
"See? Perfect chaos."
They both smiled at the image.
"Where would we live?" Ellie asked.
"Somewhere quiet," Ady said. "But near good food. Maybe a small apartment with a balcony. Plants you'd forget to water."
"I wouldn't forget!" she protested.
"Okay," Ady said, teasing. "I'd water them behind your back."
Ellie laughed again. "That actually sounds kind of... nice."
Ady's voice softened. "It does."
Then, with hesitation, he added, "Sometimes I imagine waking up next to you. Like, real life. Not through a screen."
Ellie's heart skipped.
"I think about that too," she whispered.
What They Didn't Say, But Felt
Neither of them said the word "love" again that night.
They didn't need to.
It was there — in the way Ady asked if she ate already, in the way Ellie reminded him to take a break from his workload.
It was in the silence between their calls. In the random memes they sent. In the playlists they made for each other.
Some love stories don't need fireworks.
Sometimes, love is quiet, slow, and blooming — like how morning light slowly fills a room.
That's what this was.