<p><br/></p><p>It wasn’t the internet, no.</p><p>This wasn’t about missed calls or poor connections.</p><p>It was something deeper </p><p>a rhythm of almosts and retreats,</p><p>like a dance where one partner always paused mid-step.</p><p><br/></p><p>His silence was never empty.</p><p>It was alive.</p><p>Each glance felt like a secret debate,</p><p>a board meeting held behind his eyes,</p><p>motions raised, arguments whispered,</p><p>but the minutes never shared with me.</p><p><br/></p><p>And still, he noticed me.</p><p>He noticed everything.</p><p><br/></p><p>The day I missed work, his message arrived before noon:</p><p>“You didn’t show up today. You good?”</p><p>The day I changed my hair, he tilted his head,</p><p>studied me carefully,</p><p>and said softly,</p><p>“This one suits your eyes.”</p><p><br/></p><p>How do you ignore a man</p><p>whose attention lingers like sunlight,</p><p>warming everything it touches?</p><p><br/></p><p>But that attention unsettled me.</p><p>Because attention is not casual</p><p><br/></p><p>attention is intention, even when unspoken.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I thought of him, too much.</p><p>Should I just ask him? I’d wonder.</p><p>Then pride would rise:</p><p>No. Don’t sound desperate. He should be bold enough.</p><p>And doubt would whisper back:</p><p>Or maybe he doesn’t even have the words to talk the love talk.</p><p><br/></p><p>Every laugh we shared was a breadcrumb,</p><p>every pause, a locked drawer.</p><p>And I, restless,</p><p>became an archaeologist of his silences,</p><p>digging for meaning in half-smiles,</p><p>studying the way his voice grew tender</p><p>whenever he said my name.</p><p><br/></p><p>But just when I thought he would step forward,</p><p>he pulled back again.</p><p>Shuffle.</p><p>Pause.</p><p>Retreat.</p><p><br/></p><p>That was where his eyes kept me waiting,</p><p>in the fragile space between what was said</p><p>and what was almost said.</p><p><br/></p><p>Until one evening, over suya and soft laughter,</p><p>my patience broke.</p><p>My voice trembled,</p><p>but carried the weight of two</p><p> years of unspoken hope.</p><p><br/></p><p>“Tell me,” I whispered,</p><p>“what exactly are we doing?”</p><p><br/></p><p>The world froze.</p><p>The night air held its breath.</p><p>For a moment, I thought I had leapt too far,</p><p>sounded too desperate, ruined the balance.</p><p><br/></p><p>But then he smiled.</p><p>That kind of smile that spills light into dark rooms.</p><p><br/></p><p>“I was waiting,” he said slowly,</p><p>“to see if you would ever ask me that.</p><p>I wasn’t sure if you’d reject me.</p><p>I’ve been in my building phase</p><p>laying bricks of who I want to become,</p><p>trying to be enough for you, for us.”</p><p><br/></p><p>And suddenly, the pauses made sense.</p><p>He hadn’t been running from me.</p><p>He had been running toward the man he longed to be,</p><p>dragging time with him,</p><p>hoping I would still be there when he arrived.</p><p><br/></p><p>Something inside me softened.</p><p>The doubts, the battles, the long nights of overthinking—</p><p>they dissolved in the light of his honesty.</p><p><br/></p><p>Because here he was,</p><p>not perfect, not polished,</p><p>but real.</p><p>And real, I realized,</p><p>is the most poetic kind of love.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I reached across the table,</p><p>smiled through the storm in my chest,</p><p>and whispered,</p><p>“Then let’s build together.”</p><p><br/></p><p>And just like that,</p><p>the waiting ended.</p><p>The board meeting in his eyes finally adjourned</p><p>not with silence,</p><p>but with a promise spoken out loud.</p>
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