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

Nayla stared at the screen a second longer than necessary, rereading his last message:

She bit her lip, trying and failing not to smile. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, backspaced twice, hesitated again, then finally gave up and tossed the phone onto the bed.

She flopped back with a sigh, her hair fanning across the pillow.

What was she doing?

This wasn't like her. She wasn't impulsive. She didn't ask people out. Especially not people like Raka, easygoing, expressive, the kind who felt like sunshine even on his worst days. But there was something about him. He made it easy to slip out of her shell without realizing it. Like somehow, with him, silence wasn't a cage. It was a space where she could breathe.

Raka: Should I bring a tote bag, or will you be the responsible one?

She laughed laughed the sound echoing through the quiet of her room like it didn't quite belong. But she didn't stop it.

Nayla: You'd better bring two. I'm not carrying your impulse buys.

Raka: Fair. Are you planning to escape halfway if you get overwhelmed by shelves?

Nayla: That depends. Are you planning to be annoying?

Raka: Always.

She could see him typing that. Could practically hear his voice teasing, full of that ridiculous grin he wore so well. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, but she didn't mind.

It was strange how texting used to exhaust her. How conversations felt like puzzles she had to solve. But with him, the words came easier. Not fast, not effortless, but lighter.

She found herself waiting for the little dots to appear again. And when they did, her breath caught just a little.

Raka: Thanks for asking me. I want to go with you.

It wasn't a confession. Not quite. But it was something. Clear. Warm. Intentional. Like him.

She stared at the screen, her thoughts spinning. The old instinct kicked in: erase, rewrite, soften, deflect. But this time, she resisted. This time, she let herself feel the way her heart lifted at the thought of spending a whole afternoon with him, surrounded by books and noise and the gentle safety of his presence.

Nayla: You're welcome. I want to go with you, too.

She didn't overthink it. She didn't need to.

Because the truth was that, that weekend, unlike so many others, she didn't dread leaving her comfort zone. She didn't feel like she was bracing herself to perform or disappear.

And maybe, just maybe, that made all the difference.

Chapter 22 – The Text She Almost Sent