Raka wasn't sure when the shift happened.
One minute they were just sharing ramen, late-night calls, and soft silences. The next, he found himself waking up thinking about her laugh. Her quiet. The way she hesitated before speaking—as if measuring each word like it might break something if used carelessly.
He liked all of it.
And that terrified him in ways he hadn't expected.
They were walking along the riverside promenade, a path they'd wandered before, though never quite like this. It was a warm evening street lamps glowing, breeze light, and people passing in murmurs.
Nayla was unusually quiet.
Not her distant kind of quiet. This was different. Intentional.
She had something on her mind.
"I had a weird dream last night," she said.
Raka glanced sideways. "Weird how?"
"You were in it. But not you. Like… the idea of you."
He chuckled. "Sounds deep."
"It kind of was," she admitted. "You were in my old school uniform, and I was trying to tell you something important, but every time I opened my mouth, no sound came out."
"That's probably symbolic," he said, nudging her gently. "Your brain's very literary."
She gave a faint smile but didn't laugh.
After a pause, she asked, "Do you ever think this is… leading somewhere?"
His heart stumbled.
"I do," he said carefully. "All the time."
She stopped walking.
So he did too.
She looked at him. Looked. The way she always did when she was trying to make sure what she felt wasn't just one-sided.
"I've never had this before," she said. "Something that felt real, but also fragile. Like if I moved too fast, I'd ruin it."
"You won't ruin it," Raka said gently. "Not with me."
"But what is this?" she asked. "Is it just something soft? Something temporary? Or…"
He stepped closer, searching her expression. "Or something like love?"
The words hung between them, suspended and sharp.
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes flickered down, then back to him.
"I don't know how to be in love," she whispered. "Not in the way people talk about it. Not with the fireworks and the instant labels. But when I'm with you, I feel safe. And seen. And…brave."
He didn't smile this time. He just reached out and took her hand.
"That's more than most people ever get," he said. "If this is love, Nayla… I don't need it to be loud. I just need it to be real."
Her fingers tightened around his.
And just like that, she didn't feel scared anymore.
Not about the future.
Not about what to call it.
Not even about saying it first.
So she said it quietly, without ceremony, in the way only someone like her could:
"I think I love you, Raka. Or at least… I'm on my way there."
His eyes softened. "You don't have to rush."
"I'm not," she said. "But I'm not hiding anymore either."
He leaned in then, not for a kiss, but just to rest his forehead gently against hers.
The city moved around them, unaware. The breeze picked up. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed.
But for them, time slowed.
And in that space, in that small quiet moment between fear and faith, they found something that felt like home.
Maybe even something like love.