Once, in a quiet sky, there lived a tiny star.
It wasn’t the brightest.
Wasn’t the biggest.
Didn’t shoot across the sky like the others.
It just… stayed.
In one place.
Watching the world below.
And down on that world, there was a girl who couldn’t sleep.
She’d lie in bed with her window cracked open, whispering wishes to the night.
But none of the falling stars ever heard her.
They burned fast, then disappeared.
Gone before she could finish a thought.
Except one.
The one that stayed.
She didn’t know its name.
Didn’t know it listened.
But it did. Every night. Quiet, steady, waiting.
And slowly… she stopped wishing.
Started just talking.
Telling the star about her day, her fears, her dreams.
The star glowed warmer each night.
Not louder, not brighter. Just closer.
Like it was leaning in. Like it cared.
Years passed.
The girl grew.
But still, she whispered to the same point in the sky.
And one night, when her voice trembled and her words were barely there,
the star did something no other had done—
It fell.
But slowly.
Not in a blaze, not with fire.
Just… gently.
And when she opened her eyes,
there was a soft glow beside her pillow.
A warmth that hummed like memory.
A presence that didn’t ask anything—just stayed.
No words. No promises.
Just this:
“I heard you.”
And from that night on,
she never felt alone again.
Because some stars don’t burn to be seen.
Some stars burn just to be with you.
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