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

That night, Nayla did something she almost never did.

No text. No warning. Just pressed "Call."

Her thumb hovered for a second over the green icon, heart thudding in her chest, the way it always did when she stepped even a little outside her comfort zone. But tonight felt different. Heavy in her chest. Light in her fingers. So she called.

The phone didn't even ring twice before he picked up.

"Hey," Raka said, his voice warm, gentle. Like he'd been waiting. Like he knew.

There was a small waver in her voice—softer than she wanted it to be, smaller than the armor she wore most days.

"I just… wanted to hear your voice," she said, quickly, like if she didn't say it fast enough she might lose the courage.

On the other end, he chuckled. Not to tease her, but to soften the air between them.

"You're full of surprises tonight," he replied.

Silence followed. But not awkward silence. Not quite. It was the kind of pause that waited patiently, that didn't demand to be filled.

"I'm not good at this," Nayla said eventually.

"This," she answered. "Connection. Emotion. Talking. All of it."

"You're doing just fine," he said.

Another pause. She could feel him listening, even through the static. Not interrupting. Not rushing. Just… present.

"You're patient," she said quietly.

"You're worth the wait," he replied without hesitation.

Something inside her cracked a little, just a small fracture in the wall she kept up. Her throat tightened.

"I'm scared, Raka," she whispered. "Sometimes I don't even know what. Just… scared."

"I know," he said, his voice even softer now. "But I'm not."

Those four words pressed into her like warmth under cold sheets. She closed her eyes, let them settle. She didn't know how to explain that feeling of wanting to be close, but not knowing how. Of needing space but not distance. Of fearing being too much and never enough, all at once.

So she didn't try to explain. She just stayed on the call.

They didn't talk much after that. A few words here and there. A shared laugh about the dog barking in the background on his end. Her muttering something about how late it was. But they didn't hang up.

But somehow, that quiet became a bridge. A language only the two of them understood.

A heartbeat in the background. A breath through the speaker. The faint sound of her sheets rustling as she turned onto her side, facing nothing but feeling everything.

Maybe that was the connection she'd always misunderstood, not loud, not fast, not filled with emojis or clever replies. Just... presence. Just choosing to stay.

When she finally drifted off to sleep, the call still running, she didn't say goodbye.

Chapter 25 – Call Me, Maybe