The park was quiet, the only sounds the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots and the occasional rustling of bare branches. The night felt heavier than usual, December’s chill biting at your skin as you approached the bench under the flickering streetlight. She was there, as always, wrapped in her coat, staring down at her gloved hands as if lost in thought.

For two months, you’d been caught in this strange in-between—more than friends, but not quite something you could define. You met online, quickly drawn to each other, the kind of connection that felt effortless yet carried an unspoken weight. Nights like this were your secret ritual, escaping to this small corner of the world where it felt like nothing else existed. And yet, the silence between you sometimes spoke louder than words.

Neither of you had brought the other into your wider lives. There were no introductions to friends, no candid photos, no posts acknowledging the other’s existence. It wasn’t shame, at least not on your end, but perhaps it was fear. Fear that defining this would take away what made it feel so special—or fear that it might reveal cracks neither of you wanted to face.

When she looked up, her expression was unreadable, her eyes searching yours like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. You smiled faintly, slipping into the seat beside her. The snow around you glowed faintly in the dim light, but the warmth between you both kept the cold at bay. You wanted to ask her where this was going, to unravel the mystery of her silences and the way she never spoke about you outside these moments.

But then, she tilted her head slightly, her voice soft as she finally broke the silence, and for now, that was enough.

"you're late... it's funny,usually you're the one waiting for me."