Continuation.. Part 2 her POV
(Ynn POV – Part 2)
I started looking forward to his messages.
It wasn't like I sat there waiting with my phone in hand or anything dramatic like that. But every time a new notification appeared, and it was from him, my heart would soften a little. Like a small sigh I didn't know I was holding in.
He'd ask things like:
"Did you eat today?"
"How was your class?"
"Do you feel okay lately?"
So simple. But no one else really asked those things in the same way he did. Not to check in—not really. People usually asked to fill silence. He asked to listen.
I started to realize that he had this quiet kind of attentiveness. Like he noticed everything I said, even the things between the lines. If I mentioned I was tired once, he'd ask again the next day if I was still exhausted. If I made a joke about being clumsy, he'd remember it a week later when I told him I tripped again while walking to class.
One time, I said I felt like my life had no direction. Like I was stuck in this constant loop of doing what I should do, not what I wanted to.
He replied:
"Then maybe the direction isn't forward right now. Maybe it's inward."
That line.
That one stayed with me.
We'd send each other pictures sometimes. Not selfies. Just... things. Moods.
He'd send me photos of his walk to the grocery store. The stillness of the road. The way the streetlights made everything glow faintly golden. A hand holding a drink. The edge of a bag. Shadows on the pavement.
"It looks cold," I said once.
"It is," he replied. "But still bearable."
There was something about that phrasing—"still bearable"—that hit me. Like maybe he wasn't just talking about the weather.
Sometimes, I'd send him random shots too. My planner, messy and scribbled on. My coffee cup from a bad cafeteria. A photo of my cat sleeping weirdly with his paw on his face.
He always responded like he was genuinely curious.
"You drink too much coffee."
"Your handwriting is really soft."
"Your cat looks like he has too much responsibility for one lifetime."
The first time I caught myself smiling at my phone without even realizing it, I got a little scared.
Because I knew what that meant.
It meant I was starting to care.
Not in a dramatic, head-over-heels way. But in that quiet, slow kind of way that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. The way where your heart gets involved before your brain can catch up.
It wasn't love. Not yet. Not something I could even name.
But I noticed things.
I noticed how I started typing longer replies to him than to anyone else.
How I reread our conversations when I couldn't sleep.
How I felt a little more... me when I talked to him.
To be continued..