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

It started raining the moment Nayla stepped outside the office.

The kind of rain that wasn't dramatic or wild just persistent, steady. Like the sky had been holding something in all day and finally let go. The kind of rain that felt personal.

Her umbrella had snapped the day before, its skeleton twisted and bent by an unpredictable gust, and in typical Nayla fashion, she'd forgotten to buy a new one. She hadn't thought she'd need it. She rarely planned for her comfort.

Now, she stood under the narrow overhang of the building, arms crossed, watching the raindrops stitch silver threads into the pavement. The world looked blurry, softened by falling water. People passed in a hurry, umbrellas blooming around them like cautious flowers.

Her phone buzzed once in her bag. She didn't check it. The rain had a way of slowing things down, of muffling the constant noise, and today, she welcomed that hush.

And then, across the street, she saw him.

He stood there, holding a bright blue umbrella above his head like he belonged to some different kind of day, some warmer version of the world. He was already looking at her. And grinning. That wide, unapologetic grin that she had secretly memorized.

For a second, she thought she imagined him.

Then he crossed the street, careful of the puddles, the blue umbrella bobbing gently above him like a comic book frame come to life.

"How long have you been there?" she asked as he reached her.

"Long enough to time my dramatic entrance perfectly," he said.

She let out a small laugh, awkward and surprised at herself for laughing at all.

He tilted the umbrella toward her. "Come on. I'll walk you."

She hesitated. Nayla didn't let people walk her home. She didn't even like company after work. But the rain was steady. And he was here. And part of her didn't want to return to silence just yet.

So she stepped under the umbrella.

It was smaller than she expected. Their shoulders touched—barely, but undeniably. She didn't move away.

"You didn't have to," she murmured, eyes on the ground.

"I know," he said gently. "But I wanted to."

They walked without hurry. The rain above them became a steady rhythm, not unlike a heartbeat. The silence between them wasn't awkward or strained; it was calm. Shared. Full.

"I've always liked the rain," Nayla said quietly.

Raka turned slightly toward her. "Why?"

"It drowns out the noise in my head," she replied.

She didn't expect him to respond. Most people would've said something like 'That's sad,' or 'You should talk to someone.' But Raka just nodded. His expression didn't shift into sympathy; it softened into understanding.

When they reached the gate to her apartment building, she stopped.

She hesitated. The words in her mouth felt unfamiliar, too raw. But she said them anyway. "You can keep the umbrella."

Before he could reply, she turned and walked up the path, the sound of the rain filling the space she left behind.

Raka stood there for a moment, holding a bright blue umbrella in the rain, still grinning.

And for some reason, it felt like the sky wasn't so gray after all.

Chapter 17 – Shared Umbrella