Hendry_budisaputra

She was cold in chat. But when they met, her silence spoke louder than words.

Nayla is the kind of girl who leaves your message unread, not because she doesn’t care, but because she doesn’t know how to care in a way that fits inside a blue bubble.

Raka, a warm and extroverted guy, falls for Nayla’s quiet presence. But as their connection grows, so does his confusion. How do you hold on to someone who disappears every time the screen lights up?

This is not a story of grand declarations. It’s about pauses, glances, and the kind of love that lingers in silence.

Cold on Screen, Warm in Real Life is a slow-burn urban romance about learning to speak each other’s language even when one is made of noise and the other of quiet.

Cold on Screen, Warm in Real Life

They were sitting on a bench outside the university library, sharing a slightly melting cone of peanut butter ice cream. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting shifting patches of gold across the pavement. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so, just enough to make the ice cream drip if they didn't eat it fast enough.

Nayla had forgotten her wallet. Again.

"I told you not to trust the cart," she said, eyeing the cone with suspicion. "You seriously trust public ice cream?"

"I trust the woman who runs the cart," Raka replied, offering her the cone. "She looks like she's judged every soul in this city and still decided to serve them ice cream. That kind of authority demands respect."

Nayla raised an eyebrow. "She probably has."

But she leaned forward and took a bite anyway.

Her brows furrowed, then lifted slightly. Her expression shifted in the smallest, most telling way.

Raka caught it and grinned. "See? Life-changing, right?"

She didn't answer at first, just kept eating more bites now, slower but without hesitation.

Finally, she admitted, "Okay. Fine. It's good."

"'Good'?" he leaned back dramatically. "That's the highest praise I've ever heard from you. I feel honored."

Not the usual quiet huff or the guarded smile he sometimes had to work for. No, this was a real laugh short, surprised, unfiltered. It slipped out before she could catch it, and for a moment, Raka forgot how to breathe.

"I'm allowed to," she replied, rolling her eyes but with a trace of playfulness that betrayed her amusement.

Before he could respond, she flicked a small glob of melted ice cream at him.

He flinched, grinning. "Wow. A joke and a physical gesture? Who even are you?"

She shrugged, but the smile didn't leave her face. "Don't get used to it."

Moments like this were rare with Nayla, but that made them even more precious. Her laughter wasn't loud; it didn't ring out across the campus like some dramatic movie moment, but it had depth. It was real. It was earned. To Raka, it felt like something blooming in slow motion, something delicate but alive. A moment of spring in the middle of her long, cautious winter.

"You know," he said after a quiet beat, keeping his tone casual, "I like this version of you."

Her smile dipped slightly, just a little.

"I'm always me," she said, her voice softer now. "This is just… one layer."

"I know," he said without missing a beat. "And I like all of them."

Nayla didn't reply immediately, but her gaze met his, steady and a touch warmer than before.

She didn't pull away when he handed her the last bite of his cone, and she didn't hesitate to take it.

There were no grand confessions, no dramatic music in the background just the soft sound of trees rustling and two people learning each other's rhythms, one shared moment at a time.

Chapter 12 – Laughter, Finally