Chapter 66: The Almost

"Sometimes, healing begins not with words, but with the almosts—the near-confessions, the looks that last too long."

Dear Diary,

I wasn't planning to speak to him today.

I wasn't planning to look at him either.

But the universe — in all her chaotic mood swings — doesn't ask for permission when she wants two people to orbit each other again.

It started in the library.

Rain tapped against the windows like a lullaby.

I sat near the window, tracing words in the foggy glass.

I wasn't thinking about him.

That's a lie.

I always think about Andrew when it rains.

He walked in with damp hair and a blue hoodie that made his eyes look like melted sky.

He looked around and for a second, our eyes met.

Just for a second.

But in that second, the room spun slower.

And I remembered what it felt like when we were still magic.

I quickly looked away, flipping through a book I wasn't even reading.

"Hey."

His voice was soft. Too soft.

Like it wasn't sure it deserved to reach me.

I looked up. "Hi."

The space between us stretched like elastic.

It could've snapped or pulled us closer.

"You left your sketchbook in Art Club last week," he said, holding it out.

I took it from him, fingers brushing briefly.

"Thanks."

He nodded.

That should've been the end.

But it wasn't.

"Wunor…"

His voice cracked a little. "Can we talk?"

My heart did that annoying thing again —

fluttered like a bird that didn't know whether to fly or stay.

I nodded.

We sat by the window.

Not touching. Not yet.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he started.

"Sometimes I pull away before I even know I'm doing it."

I didn't interrupt.

I let the silence do the heavy lifting.

"You matter to me. A lot," he said.

"But I didn't know how to carry the feelings and still be okay."

His eyes were glassy, his breath slow.

"I never wanted to hurt you."

Dear Diary,

There are moments that aren't quite apologies.

But they carry the weight of one.

There are conversations that don't solve anything,

but still stitch a little light into the wounds.

This was one of them.

When we left the library, the rain had stopped.

And so had the ache, just a little.

We didn't hold hands.

We didn't laugh.

But we walked side by side.

And that… was enough for today.

– Wunor 🌧️