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

She didn't remember exactly when she started the folder.

Maybe it was after their second time meeting in person, when he casually offered her his umbrella without a second thought, standing in the drizzle with his hoodie pulled over his head like it was no big deal. Or maybe it began the day he tried to compliment her hair and tripped over his own words so badly he went beet red, stammering, "You… um… your hair looks like a cloud. But, uh, like a pretty one? Not a storm."

She had laughed, and he'd laughed too, shaking his head in embarrassment. But something warm had taken root in her chest that day. And later that night, she wrote it down.

Inside the folder, titled nothing more than "unsent," were dozens now. Dozens of raw, unpolished, beautiful things she didn't have the courage to say.

They weren't essays. Most were just a line or two. Some are shorter than a sentence.

"I like the way you listen, even when I say almost nothing.""I feel safe when I'm around you. That's rare.""I'm scared of liking you because you might leave when you realize how much I don't say.""Sometimes I want to hold your hand, but I don't know how to ask."

Words she couldn't voice, not yet. Words too naked, too true. They didn't sound like her, not the version of herself she showed the world, the one with carefully measured words and built-in hesitations.

These messages were different. Honest. Messy. Scared.

And every night, she added another one. Or re-read an old one like a bedtime story her heart never got tired of hearing.

That night, she stared at her phone, Raka's morning message still unopened hours later. She didn't mean to ignore it. She'd seen the preview "Hope today feels light on your heart 😊" and something about it had made her chest ache. In the best way, and also in the hardest.

Because how could someone think of her like that? Wish her peace like that?

Her thumb hovered over the folder again.

She opened it, read every entry, each one like opening a window in her soul. Some made her smile. Others made her stomach twist. They were versions of herself she hadn't let anyone meet yet not even him.

Her finger rested on one of the drafts.

"You make me feel like silence doesn't have to be lonely."

She stared at it for a long time. Thought about sending it.

Instead, she tapped out something simpler. Safer. Still honest, just… less naked.

"I like hearing from you. Even when I don't say much back."

It wasn't all she wanted to say. Not even close.

And just a few seconds later, his reply came:

"That's enough for me."

No pressure. No follow-up. Just understanding.

She smiled at the screen, felt her ribs loosen around her heart.

But one day, she would be. One day she'd send him the whole folder. Every message. Every almost-confession.

When her heart was just a little braver.

Chapter 15 – Unsent Messages