She said "okay."
Not I love you too.
Not me too.
Not even a smile.
Just… "okay."
And somehow, it meant more than anything she could've said.
Now, we walk side by side.
The sidewalk glistens from an earlier drizzle, catching the glow of streetlamps like something out of a movie. But this isn't a movie. And I'm not the kind of man who gets a happy ending just because I said the right thing once.
I keep my hands in my pockets.
Because I don't want to push her.
Because if I touch her too soon… I might ruin everything.
The silence between us is easy. Not heavy. Not awkward. Just there. Like we're both thinking too many things and trying not to say any of them out loud.
Her hair sways slightly as she walks. The breeze plays with the hem of her jacket. She keeps her eyes forward.
And all I can think is—don't mess this up again.
"Do you want to take the long way?" I ask.
She glances up.
Then shrugs.
"You choosing now?"
"I'm trying to."
We veer left.
Toward the quieter side street near the bookstore she likes. I remember things. More than she probably thinks. Her favorite coffee order. The way she hates overhead lights. How she always touches fabric before she buys it—like she needs to feel its story first.
She doesn't speak for a while.
Then finally, soft:
"You looked nervous."
"I was."
She glances at me.
"Why?"
"Because it matters now."
She slows her pace a little. Just enough to match mine.
"I still don't trust you," she says.
I nod. "You don't have to. Not yet."
"But you want me to."
"Desperately."
She huffs a quiet laugh. Shakes her head slightly.
"You're not subtle anymore, Kairo."
"I've been subtle for too long."
We reach the edge of her block.
And stop.
The city is quiet here. Fewer people. Fewer lights. Just her studio a few steps away, tucked behind a row of art galleries and cafes.
She turns to me.
And it's the first time since the café she really looks.
Eyes locked.
Face open.
No mask. No armor.
And I see it.
She's still unsure.
But she's hopeful too.
I take a breath.
"I don't know how to be perfect," I say. "But I want to be present. Real. Not just when I'm scared you're slipping away."
She folds her arms, brow raised. "And when you're not scared?"
"I'll still show up."
A beat of silence.
The wind lifts her hair just slightly. Her lips part. Then—
"I'm not ready for everything yet."
"I'll take anything you're ready to give."
She studies me.
And then—she nods once.
That's all.
And starts walking toward the studio door.
She unlocks it.
Opens it.
Steps inside.
Then… pauses.
Looks back.
"Goodnight, Kairo."
And she doesn't close the door until I'm gone.