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

"You sure he's not just being nice?" Juno asked, twirling her fork lazily as they sat across from each other at their favorite little Italian spot.

It was a cozy place, dim lighting and checkered tablecloths, the kind of restaurant that remembered your name and your preferred corner table. The kind of place where truths tended to slip out easier than planned.

Nayla stabbed her pasta a bit too forcefully. "He's… too consistent to just be nice."

Juno raised a brow, not letting it go. "Some guys are just like that. Friendly. Thoughtful. Doesn't always mean more."

Nayla sighed. "He remembers what I drink. He notices when I'm quiet and doesn't try to fix it. He makes space for me like it's nothing like it's natural."

"Okay, but why are you defending him like you're in court?" Juno leaned in. "I'm not doubting him, Nay. I'm doubting you."

Juno's voice stayed calm, but her words were firm. "Because every time someone starts caring, really caring, you pull away. It's like clockwork."

"You do," Juno said, gently but without room to argue. "You always do. And you know it."

Nayla's hand froze mid-stir. Her fork hovered in the pasta as the clink of plates and soft murmur of other diners filled the space between them. The silence pressed against her ribcage.

Juno wasn't saying it to criticize.

She was saying it because she knew her.

"I just…" Nayla looked down at her plate, the food now cold and forgotten. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not," Juno said without a beat. "But even if you were, let him decide that. Stop deciding for people whether you're worth the effort."

Nayla's throat tightened. Her fingers clenched the napkin in her lap. The truth hit harder than she expected. Not because it hurt, but because it fit.

"You're scared," Juno continued, her voice soft now. "And it's okay to be. But don't confuse fear with instinct. You've spent so long expecting people to leave, you think that's the only ending there is."

Nayla didn't look up. She couldn't. Her eyes stung with unspoken things, and the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her the blush of truth, of vulnerability, of being seen too clearly.

"You like him," Juno said after a pause, quieter this time.

Just Nayla's lashes fluttering. Just her breathing is uneven. Just the stillness of a girl holding a confession she didn't know how to name.

Juno smiled, small and knowing, and leaned back in her chair.

"Then maybe…" she said, picking up her glass of water, "let yourself be liked back. For once."

And for the first time in a long time, Nayla didn't argue.

She didn't have the strength to deny it anymore.

And maybe just maybe she was tired of being the only one who kept walking away.

Chapter 19 – Juno’s Doubts, Again