The screen's glow lit up Layla's face in the dark of her bedroom. She told herself—again—that tonight would be the night she deleted the dating app for good. Yet here she was, scrolling through a sea of profiles that made her want to roll her eyes more than swoon.
"Gym rat. Crypto investor. Looking for someone to spoil me." Skip.
"CEO of vibes. Must love adventures." Skip.
She sighed. Is romance extinct, or just hiding from me?
Her thumb froze when a new profile appeared.
Liam, 30. Loves coffee, hates mornings. Fluent in sarcasm. Swipe right if you can keep up.
Layla chuckled. Fluent in sarcasm? Finally, a language I understand.
Curiosity won over caution—she swiped right.
✨ It's a match.
Before she could think twice, a message popped up.
Liam: Took you long enough. I was starting to think you didn't exist.
Her lips curved into a smirk. She typed quickly.
Layla: Sorry, I was busy rejecting fragile egos. You just barely survived the cut.
The three little dots appeared.
Liam: Good. I don't do fragile. But tell me, do you always start conversations by bruising men's pride?
Layla: Only the ones who deserve it. Should I add you to the list?
Liam: Bold. I like it. Something tells me you're trouble.
She bit her lip, enjoying the spark already flickering between them. Trouble? Maybe. But he wasn't running from it.
A notification buzzed. Liam again.
Liam: Alright, Layla. Let's make a deal. If you can survive three days of my sarcasm, I'll reward you with the best coffee date of your life.
Layla tilted her head, amused. A promise already?
She typed back.
Layla: Three days? Please. You'll be begging me for my number in three hours.
Seconds later, another buzz.
Liam: Challenge accepted. Now stop wasting time and give me your number.
Her heart skipped—not because he asked, but because she actually wanted to say yes. Against her better judgment, she sent it.
By midnight, they'd left the app behind. On WhatsApp, the banter flowed even easier.
Liam: Good evening, Miss Attitude. Did you give your number to me willingly, or do I owe you a thank-you gift?
Layla: Depends. How expensive is this gift?
Liam: Let's just say it'll outlast flowers and chocolates.
Layla: Big words for someone I've never seen in person.
Liam: Then let me be the first to promise and when we meet, you won't regret swiping right.
Layla stared at the message, her chest warming despite herself. Promises. She'd heard plenty before. But something about Liam's confidence made her wonder if he was different.
The conversation had been rolling for over an hour now, an effortless rhythm of teasing and witty comebacks. Layla was curled up in bed, her cheeks aching from smiling at her phone screen.
Another notification buzzed.
Liam: Alright, enough of words. Send me a picture. I need proof you're not secretly a catfish with excellent typing skills.
Layla smirked, tossing her phone onto her pillow for a second. Men and their obsession with pictures. She picked it up again.
Layla: Why don't you send me yours first?
The typing dots blinked. Then his reply came, smooth as always.
Liam: Ladies first. That's how it's always been.
Layla raised an eyebrow. Oh, really?
Layla: Wrong. History says ladies have always been chasing after men. So this time, men first.
There was a pause. Then:
Liam: You're twisting history now?
Layla: I'm making history. Now prove you're not some old uncle using Google images.
A laughing emoji appeared, followed quickly by his message.
Liam: Fine. But if I send mine first, you have to promise yours comes next.
Layla pretended to hesitate, her fingers hovering. The truth was, curiosity burned inside her — she wanted to see him too.
Layla: Deal.
Seconds later, a photo arrived.
Layla's breath caught. He wasn't drop-dead movie-star handsome, but there was something about him—dark eyes that hinted at mischief, a half-smile that looked like it had secrets, and a confidence in the way he carried himself.
She typed back slowly.
Layla: Not bad. I was expecting worse.
Liam: "Not bad"? That's all? Do you know how many hearts this smile has broken?
Layla: If you're waiting for me to faint, don't hold your breath. Now, my turn…
She snapped a quick selfie—nothing too glamorous, just her natural face framed by the glow of her bedroom light. Before she could overthink it, she hit send.
A moment passed. Then came his reply.
Liam: Beautiful. I knew it.
Layla: Smooth talker.
Liam: Truth teller. I don't waste time with lies.
Layla stared at the screen longer than she meant to, her heart warming despite her stubbornness. He had a way of slipping past her guard with words that didn't sound like empty lines.
And just like that, what started as playful banter suddenly felt like the beginning of something she couldn't quite name.
The chat had gone from witty to warm, their words flowing like they'd known each other longer than a few hours. Layla was starting to think she should log off and sleep, but her fingers wouldn't stop replying.
Then came another message.
Liam: You know what? Texting isn't enough. Can I call you?
Layla blinked, her lips parting. Already? Most guys would wait a day or two before asking. She typed back.
Layla: Bold move. But it's late, and I don't exactly do random video calls with strangers.
Liam: Relax, Miss Attitude. I said call, not video call. Unless, of course, you secretly want to see me again.
She rolled her eyes, grinning despite herself.
Layla: Voice only. That's the deal. No surprise video requests.
Liam: Voice it is. But don't blame me when you fall for my deep, irresistible tone.
Layla laughed out loud, shaking her head. He was ridiculous.
Layla: Go on then. Impress me.
Her phone buzzed almost immediately with his call. For a second, she stared at the screen, hesitating. Then, curiosity winning again, she swiped to accept.
"Hello?" Her voice was soft, a little uncertain.
"Well, well," Liam's voice came through, warm and teasing, with just enough bass to make her stomach flutter. "So it's true. You sound as beautiful as you look."
Layla tried to scoff, but she was smiling. "Smooth already? Do you rehearse these lines before bed?"
"Only for special matches," he countered easily. "Tell me, are you always this difficult, or am I lucky tonight?"
She chuckled, settling deeper into her pillow. "Depends. Are you always this arrogant, or is this your first impression package?"
He laughed—an unforced, rich sound that made her toes curl more than she cared to admit. "You call it arrogance, I call it confidence. Don't worry, it grows on you."
Layla rolled her eyes, though he couldn't see it. "We'll see about that."
Silence hovered for a second—not awkward, but comfortable, like the calm between waves.
"You know," Liam said, his voice softer now, "I'm glad you swiped right. Something tells me this is going to be… different."
Layla bit her lip. Promises again. She'd heard them before, and yet, the way he said it made her heart skip. She wasn't sure if she believed him, but for the first time in a while, she wanted to.
The silence stretched, gentle but heavy, until Liam spoke again.
"Layla… why do I feel like you're holding back?"
Her fingers toyed with the hem of her blanket. She hadn't meant to let it show. "Because I am."
"Why?" His tone was calm, not demanding, just curious.
She exhaled slowly. "Because I've been here before. The swipes, the chats, the smooth words. Guys who swear they're different, but end up treating me like I'm disposable. Like I'm just a… phase."
On the other end, Liam was quiet for a moment. "They hurt you."
She swallowed hard. "More than I'd like to admit. They made promises too—late-night calls, sweet words, talk about forever. And then, one by one, they showed me how temporary I really was. That's why I don't trust easily anymore. Not even this conversation."
Her words came out sharper than she meant, but they were honest.
Liam's voice dropped lower, steady, almost grounding. "Layla, I'm not them."
She gave a soft, bitter laugh. "That's what they all said."
"I know," he admitted, not defensive, just real. "And I can't erase what they did, or expect you to believe me tonight. But here's the thing—I don't waste time. I don't chase women for fun. If I'm here, talking to you instead of sleeping like a sane person, it's because something about you feels worth it."
Layla's chest tightened. "And what if I can't believe that?"
"Then don't," Liam said simply. "Don't believe my words—watch my actions. Let me prove it. Give me time. Give us a chance. If I turn out to be like them, you'll walk away, and I won't stop you. But if I'm not… then maybe, just maybe, you'll see what I already see."
Layla blinked rapidly, her throat suddenly tight. No one had ever said it like that—not asking for blind trust, but offering proof instead.
"Liam…" she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"You're still arrogant."
He laughed, that rich sound she was starting to like too much. "Maybe. But arrogant or not, I promise you one thing, Layla—if you let me in, I'll never treat you like you're temporary."
Her heart stuttered. She didn't reply immediately. She couldn't. But deep inside, for the first time in a long while, she wanted to believe.