Raka started noticing a pattern.
Every time they met in person, Nayla opened up just a little more. Not dramatically, just slightly warmer smiles, slightly longer pauses before goodbye, slightly more eye contact.
But then, after they parted?
She went cold again.
Not mean. Not cruel. Just… distant.
It was like a switch was flipped the moment she got behind a screen. Conversations slowed. Responses got shorter. Her warmth vanished into text bubbles and ellipses that never turned into words.
And it messed with Raka's head.
He didn't want to be needy, but sometimes he stared at her last message, wondering if she even wanted to keep talking.
Today, it had been almost ten hours since he texted her a simple:
"Hope you got home safe."
No reply.
His thoughts spiraled. Did she think he was too much? Did she regret meeting up?
His phone finally buzzed.
"I did. Thanks."
That was it. No emoji. No, "you too."
But instead of feeling disappointed, Raka forced himself to smile.
Because he was starting to get it.
This was who Nayla was.
People showed care in different ways. Some showed it loudly. Some, like her, whispered it through presence, through remembering small things, through the effort it took her just to say "yes" to seeing him.
So he replied:
"Cool. I enjoyed today. Hope you did too."
This time, her reply came faster.
"I did. A lot."
Three words.
But enough.
The next day, she sent him a new book title no message, just the cover.
Raka grinned. That was how she said, I want to keep talking to you.
And in her language, that was love in progress.