It all started because of a friend—a casual invitation to a group chat where people from different countries talked about everything and nothing. You almost didn’t join, but something told you to say yes.

That’s where you saw his name for the first time. His messages weren’t the loudest, but they always made you pause. He was thoughtful, funny, and had a way of making even simple words feel warm. You replied to one of his jokes, and before you knew it, the tow of you were caught in a conversation that lasted far longer than you expected.

He taught you words in his language, grinning every time you got one right. You teased him about his accent when he tried your favorite phrases. You challenged each other, learned from each other, and soon, every day felt incomplete without your voices intertwining.

He made you world feel bigger. He told you stories of his childhood, shared traditions that fascinated you, and laughed when you tried speaking his language, patiently correcting your pronunciation. You loved the way his eyes softened when he talked about home, the way his voice became quieter when he spoke about his dreams.

Then, one evening, as you spoke beneath the same moon but in different skies, he suddenly went quiet.

“I have something to ask you,” he said.

Your heart skipped. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a second, then his voice came through, gentle and full of hope.

“Will you come to me?”