Chapter Eight: The Soft Reveal
The day was warmer, the kind that opens windows without asking.
You’d tied your hair back again, but looser this time — strands falling out, like you were too distracted to care.
I found you reading on the floor, legs crossed, sunlight creeping over your knees.
Didn’t say anything. Just sat beside you. Close enough to count the folds in your sleeve.
After a long pause, you said,
“Do you believe some people are meant to find each other?”
“I don’t believe in fate,” I said. “But I believe in patterns.”
You didn’t reply right away.
Just leaned slightly — not enough to touch me, but enough to be noticed.
Then quietly,
“I used to feel like a placeholder. Like someone temporary. You make that feeling quieter.”
I could’ve said a hundred things. But I only said one.
“You make mine disappear.”
And that was the moment.
No sparks, no music.
Just something real settling into place between us —
Like a bookmark finally returned to the right page.
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