It was a Thursday evening when the conversation turned serious.
Not intentionally. It started like any other night—Luna lying on her bed, phone in hand, earphones plugged in; Evan at his desk, leaning back with one arm behind his head, just listening.
They weren't video calling. Just a quiet audio line between them, where they could talk or not talk, and somehow still feel close.
"You ever wonder what city we'd live in?" Luna asked suddenly.
Evan paused, then smiled faintly. "All the time."
There was a short silence after that. Not awkward—just thoughtful.
"I mean," Luna continued, her voice slower now, "Jakarta feels too crowded for me. But I'm also not sure I'd survive in a place that's too quiet."
"Yogyakarta?" he offered.
She laughed softly. "Tempting. But I don't want you to leave everything behind either."
"I'd leave anything if it meant I was coming toward something better," he said, half-joking—half not.
Luna didn't reply right away.
Evan glanced at his screen, half-expecting the call to disconnect, but it didn't.
"I don't want to make promises," Luna said finally. "I've learned those are easy to say and hard to keep. But…"
She trailed off.
Evan sat up straighter. "But?"
"I want to start making plans."
The words hung in the air between them, quiet but powerful.
Plans.
Not fantasies.
Not rushed decisions.
Not vague "somedays."
Just small, possible futures they could build—together.
---
That night, they opened a shared note in the cloud. Titled it: "Maybe Soon".
They didn't write anything big. Just small thoughts. Apartment ideas. Neighborhoods. Jobs. Flights.
Even coffee brands they'd try together.
It felt silly.
But also… real.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the beginning of something that didn't need to be promised to be believed in.