Rain pressed softly against the bookstore windows again—whispers from a sky too tired to roar. The city looked like it had been drawn in charcoal, shadows blurring at the edges. Eli was already seated at their table when Alina walked in, umbrella folded, her coat a little damp from the lingering drizzle.
He didn't say anything. Just smiled, and slid a warm cup toward her.
"You always know when I'm coming," she murmured, her fingers curling around the warmth.
"I think my heart hears you before the bell does."
She looked down quickly, smiling in a way that softened her whole face. "That was cheesy."
He grinned. "But true."
They settled into easy conversation. The kind that picked up where they left off, as if the universe had been holding their place. He asked about the book she was reading; she asked if he had written anything new. Neither of them mentioned the ache they had felt during the hours apart, but it lived in every glance, every pause.
"Do you always write about people you barely know?" she asked after a moment.
Eli leaned back slightly, his thumb tracing the side of his coffee mug. "Only when not knowing them hurts more than it should."
Alina's gaze fell to the journal lying near his elbow.
"You bring it everywhere, don't you?"
"I think better with it near me."
"Is there something in there... about today?"
He opened the book, flipped to a blank page, and wrote without hesitation. Then slid it across the table to her.
She asked if I wrote about her today. I wrote while she sat across from me. And still, she didn't know the whole page was already hers.
Alina stared at the words for a long time.
"It's too much," she said softly.
"But it's never enough," Eli whispered.
She looked up at him, her expression unreadable.
"You know, Eli," she began, "I don't think I've ever felt so... understood. And it scares me."
"I'm not asking you not to be scared," he replied. "I just want to walk with you through it."
There was a silence that followed. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was full. Heavy with thought, feeling, longing.
"I think I'm falling," she said.
He didn't ask for clarity.
Instead, he said, "Then fall. I'll be here when you land."
The words wrapped around her like a promise.
---
Later that evening, Eli stood on his rooftop beneath a moon smeared with clouds, the city glimmering like an unopened secret. He wrote in the journal by candlelight.
She is a quiet revolution. A slow-turning tide. And I would drown a hundred times just to call the waves her name.
---
Meanwhile, Alina sat curled in her blanket, scrolling through her phone, rereading his messages. Something inside her had changed. She wasn't sure what name to give it. But she knew it wasn't fear anymore.
She looked at her reflection in the window.
"He's making it hard not to fall," she whispered.
And for once, she didn't look away.
---
The next morning, the clouds began to part.
Alina entered the bookstore just as Eli was dusting the shelves. She watched him quietly for a moment, then spoke.
"Eli?"
He turned, a question already in his eyes.
She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"
He froze.
And then he smiled.