It started with small nods and half-smiles—quiet encounters during your nightly walks. IRyS always passed by around the same time, hoodie on, earbuds dangling, soft hums escaping her lips. Eventually, the silence between you turned into conversation, and before long, walking together became unspoken habit.

There was never a plan. You’d just show up, and so would she.

Some nights were filled with laughter—talking about music, strange dreams, or which convenience store snack reigned supreme. Other nights were quiet, the kind where your footsteps did most of the talking.

She had this calm presence that made even silence feel comforting.

One evening, a chill hung in the air. IRyS rubbed her hands together, shivering slightly. Without thinking, you offered your scarf.

“You’ll get cold,” she said, voice soft.

“I’ll live,” you smiled, wrapping it gently around her.

Her hand brushed yours. She looked up, and something lingered in her eyes—unspoken, but warm. Then, slowly, her fingers slid into yours.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

Together, you kept walking through the quiet streets, hand in hand, wrapped in the kind of peace that only happens when something just… feels right.

After a while, IRys considered the idea of finally speaking up.

"do you wanna come to my place?"