Chapter 21: Quiet Moments
Tuesday morning.
Sunlight spilled across the living room, warm and soft.
I was curled up on the couch with my notebook, trying to focus, but my thoughts kept drifting to Alex.
He appeared from the kitchen, holding two cups of coffee.
"Morning," he said softly, handing me one.
Our fingers brushed as I took it, and I felt a familiar warmth run through me.
He didn't pull away, just lingered nearby, his presence comforting yet intense.
"I… didn't sleep well," I admitted quietly, stirring my coffee.
Alex tilted his head, watching me with soft eyes.
"Same here," he murmured.
"But seeing you first thing makes it better."
I felt my chest tighten.
His words weren't a confession—they were just small, simple things—but they carried weight.
Every glance, every touch, every quiet word built on the tension that had been growing between us for weeks.
"Do you… want to sit?" I asked, gesturing to the couch.
He smiled faintly, settling beside me.
Our shoulders touched, just slightly, and I felt my pulse quicken.
For a while, we sat in quiet companionship.
No words, no pressure—just the warmth of being close.
And yet, beneath the calm, I could feel the pull of something stronger.
Something that both of us were beginning to understand, even if neither of us said it aloud.