The night had passed quietly… leaving behind a faint warmth of yesterday.
The next morning, the school bell hadn't rung yet, but the streets outside were already alive.
Kalin stepped out alone, as always, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
The cold air brushed against strands of his dark blue hair, the sky soft gray.
He pulled his hoodie over his hair, arranging it carefully, as he always did.
Eyes forward, cautious, observing, yet avoiding distractions.
From afar, a familiar wave caught his attention.
A smile he recognized immediately.
Mira.
She wasn't extraordinary because he was mysterious.
She stayed with him not because she was lonely, but because he never disappeared when she spoke.
From the first day, sitting beside him, she noticed something rare:
He didn't interrupt.
He didn't rush.
He listened… truly listened.
"Hey… got time?" she asked simply after the last bell, the students rushing past in groups, laughter filling the halls.
Kalin tilted his head slightly.
"Yeah," he said.
They walked together toward a quiet café nearby.
Two tables outside, warm light spilling from inside.
The smell of light coffee mingled with the crisp winter air.
Inside, Kalin placed his bag on the chair next to him, slowly slipping off his jacket, every movement deliberate, precise… habitual.
Mira sat across, elbow resting on the table, a soft smile warming her face.
"Coffee? Or something lighter?" she asked.
Kalin looked at her briefly.
"Something light."
She smiled knowingly.
The drinks arrived: a warm cup for him, tea for her, and a small pastry to share.
Silence settled not heavy, but comfortable. No explanation needed.
Kalin's gaze drifted to the window. People walked by, the city alive.
In his pocket, Koji stirred slightly, sensing warmth, sensing something new.
Mira glanced subtly at his pocket, then into his eyes. She didn't ask.
She simply said, quietly:
"Sometimes… you feel like you're not alone, right?"
His heart paused for a fraction of a second, then resumed.
"Maybe," he answered softly.
She chuckled lightly.
"I feel that way sometimes too."
Kalin leaned back, staying longer than intended.
He spoke more than usual: small talk about school, a boring teacher, routine assignments…
A short laugh slipped out, unexpected, genuine.
Mira noticed, smiling quietly, careful not to break the fragile moment.
Sunlight streamed through the window, brushing his face.
For the first time in a long while, sitting with her felt… natural, comforting, as if life could feel beautiful and safe.
He didn't need to be cautious.
He didn't need to hide.
And Koji?
Still in his pocket, silent, watching.
Not angry.
Just… learning to share.
Kalin's mother called briefly, checking on him. He told her he was at the café with his friend, talking.
"Hi, son! How are you? Where are you?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Sitting at the café near school with my friend Mira, chatting about our day."
"Enjoy your day, but don't be late! Lunch is amazing today, and don't forget to bring your friend!"
"Of course, Mom. But Mira's in a hurry, she'll have to go home later."
"Okay, goodbye, son!"
"Bye, Mom. I won't be late."
He hung up and returned to the conversation.
Kalin realized something simple about her:
He didn't give easily.
But when the right person stayed…
There was no need for walls.
He told her about his mother how she always checked on him, always cared.
Steam rose from their cups, the small pastry between them bridging the space quietly.
Mira glanced at him occasionally, a gentle smile, eyes shining, silently saying:
"Sitting with you is comforting… you're the only friend I truly want to stay with. You know how rude our classmates can be, always causing trivial problems."
Kalin paused for a few seconds.
"That's why I stay away… better to be alone. But I don't care if others want to tease or talk about me. Everyone is like that anyway."
Mira gave a tiny smile.
"You're right, Kalin."
He drank from his cup, each sip grounding him.
"You like your coffee warm, right?" she asked lightly.
"Yeah… warm… not too hot," he replied softly.
She smiled.
"And today… did you feel okay?"
He looked at her, unsure why the question mattered.
"Yeah… fine," he said, short, but genuine.
Mira laughed softly, teasing:
"Sometimes… your quiet presence… is more comforting than too much talking."
His heart paused.
"Not used to it…" he admitted, a small smile forming.
She laughed quietly.
"No need to get used to it quickly."
Their laughter was light, two sides of himcalm and restless speaking in his heart.
When it was time to leave, Mira stood:
"If you want… we could make this a habit."
He looked at her, smiled.
"I'd like that."
In that quiet café, with warm light, shared dessert, and gentle glances,
Kalin understood something important:
Silence with the right person can be more comforting than any words.
And his heart could trust, opening a small space for warmth, even while the past still chased him.