Weeks passed after that first message. He faded into the background of my phone, just another name in my contacts.
I almost forgot him.
Almost.
Life returned to its rhythm lectures, late-night calls with my boyfriend, the constant back-and-forth of schoolwork. But my relationship was shifting. Arguments became more frequent. Silence stretched longer than laughter.
And still, somewhere in the middle of it all, his name lingered on my screen like a shadow.
I told myself it was nothing. Just another name.
But why did it feel heavier than that?
Until one evening, another message lit up.
"You stay in Beverly Hostel too?"
I froze. My chest tightened. Beverly Hostel? My hostel?
He wasn't just another face online. He wasn't distant, untouchable, or hidden behind a glowing screen anymore. He was here. The same city. The same university. The same walls I walked past every day.
The distance that once protected me the invisible boundary that made loyalty easy vanished in a heartbeat.
I tried to play it casual. Yes, I do, I typed back.
"That's cool," he replied.
Simple words. Yet, behind them, something shifted. This wasn't just about awkward small talk anymore.
It was awareness. A presence.
Because now, he wasn't just a message. He was real.
He was close.
Just a walk away.
And for the first time, I felt the ground beneath my feet shift.