After that night, we talked again.
And then again.
Until it became something we both silently looked forward to…
like the day wouldn't feel complete without a glimpse of each other's worlds.
It started with messages that came fast,
but soon they turned into long nights of videocalls, where time didn't seem to exist.
Sometimes we'd talk about nothing,
sometimes about everything.
You'd be playing your game, I'd be lying in bed, and somehow that silence between us already felt like a conversation of its own.
You started saying "good morning" before my alarm went off, and "good night" even when i knew you were still awake.
It became a rhythm —
our own little world made of pixels and timing,
soft laughter and sleepy voices.
I remember how your voice would change at night, slower, calmer, as if the weight of the day finally sat down beside you.
Sometimes you'd say you were tired,
but you'd still stay on the call.
And even if i pretended not to care,
I always noticed.
It was strange, how something so small, so quiet, could make me feel so seen.
You made me believe that distance didn't matter, that connection could exist through the simplest things,
a good morning text,
a tired smile through a camera,
a voice saying, "Sleep well."
And for a moment, I let myself believe it was safe.
But somewhere between those nights,
between the sound of your laugh and the static in your mic,
I felt something shift inside me.
It wasn't just comfort anymore.
It was fear, the kind that whispers, "What if this doesn't last?"
Because i've been here before,
the part where i start to care,
the part where the quiet starts to mean too much, the part where someone becomes the first thought in the morning
and the last before i close my eyes.
You had this calmness that made me trust again, and that was exactly what terrified me.
Because i knew what it cost to trust.
I knew how it felt to give a piece of myself
to someone who could leave without warning.
And yet, I stayed.
Because you made it easy.
Because your voice, your messages, your presence, they felt like home in a world that never stopped moving.
I tried to tell myself,
"This is nothing."
But the truth is, you were slowly becoming everything.
And maybe that's why i started to panic.
Because every time something feels too good, a part of me starts preparing for the goodbye.
You told me once that i overthink too much,
and maybe you're right.
But how could i not,
when something as simple as a videocall could already mean so much?
You became my morning,
my night,
my in-between.
And even though i never said it out loud,
I think you already knew.
Because sometimes,
the heart speaks loudest in the silences between our words.