She didn't remember exactly when she started it. Maybe after their second in-person meeting—when he casually offered her his umbrella without a second thought. Or maybe it was after the first time he made her laugh without trying, when he tripped over his own words trying to compliment her hair and turned beet red.
Inside that folder were dozens of quiet confessions.
Some were just a line or two:
"I like the way you listen, even when I say almost nothing.""I feel safe when I'm around you. That's rare.""I'm scared of liking you because you might leave when you realize how much I don't say.""Sometimes I want to hold your hand, but I don't know how to ask."
Raw. Honest. Messy in all the ways her real-life persona never allowed.
She never sent them. Couldn't. Not because they weren't true, but because they were too true. Too vulnerable. Saying them out loud might make everything real—too real. And real meant risking something.
Still, she wrote them. Like exhaling things she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.
That night, after hours of leaving Raka's sweet morning text unread, "Hope today feels light on your heart 😊" she found herself opening the folder again.
She read every single entry. Each one was a version of herself she hadn't yet shared.
Her thumb hovered over one.
Just one.
But in the end, she didn't send any.
Instead, she replied simply:"I like hearing from you. Even when I don't say much back."
His reply came instantly:"That's enough for me."
Nayla smiled at her screen.
One day, she'd send the messages in the folder.Maybe not today.But soon.
When her heart was a little braver.