Romalissa

In a town where the coffee is warm and the silence speaks louder than words, two hearts quietly find their way back to love.
A gentle, slow-burning college romance filled with late-night conversations, golden autumn days, and the kind of connection that lingers — even when nothing is said.
Sometimes, the most powerful love stories are the quiet ones.

STILL WITH YOU YUNA

"When love is real, it doesn't rush. It grows in the quiet. And then, one day, it blooms."

Eli: The café is closing early tonight. Come by. There's something I want to show you.

Yuna stared at her phone for a minute before responding.

Yuna: Should I be nervous?

Eli: Maybe a little. But mostly, be ready for soft things.

It had been three days since their trip to Linden Hills, but the calm from that escape still lingered in Yuna's chest like sunlight left behind on skin. Her steps felt lighter now, like something inside her had settled — like maybe, for once, she wasn't fighting herself anymore.

She arrived at Mocha Moon just as the last customer walked out.

Eli stood behind the counter, dimming the lights. The entire place was bathed in golden glow — the kind of soft, amber warmth that made even silence feel like music.

He gestured toward the back patio. "Come on."

The back of the café had been transformed.

String lights crisscrossed overhead, their glow twinkling against the dark blue sky. A single table had been set — candles flickering, mugs of tea steaming. Around them, potted plants swayed gently in the spring breeze.

Yuna blinked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Eli…"

"You've been brave lately," he said, stepping closer. "I wanted to make sure you slowed down long enough to feel that."

She looked at him — really looked — and something in her chest tugged.

They sat together, the evening folding softly around them. Yuna's hands curled around her mug. She took a sip and sighed.

"This tastes like vanilla and… nostalgia."

"It's chamomile with a little honey and cinnamon," Eli said. "You said once it reminded you of your grandmother."

Yuna blinked. "You remembered that?"

They didn't speak for a moment. The wind picked up slightly, rustling through the vines on the fence.

Then Yuna said, "I've been thinking a lot about what comes next."

"Everything's changing. I'm growing, writing more. I feel like the version of me that used to flinch at the world is… still here. But smaller. Quieter."

He smiled gently. "You know, I've always loved how you say what most people hide."

Eli leaned back slightly, studying her.

"I want you to know something," he said. "I've never rushed anything with you. Not because I wasn't sure. But because I knew you needed time. And I needed you to choose this — choose me — without being pulled."

"I've always chosen you," she said. "Even when I was scared of what it meant."

Then she stood, walked to the edge of the patio, and looked up at the sky.

Stars were beginning to appear — dim at first, then brighter.

Eli followed her, standing close but not touching.

And finally, she asked the question she'd been carrying for weeks.

"I do," he said. "Not in a loud, reckless way. In a quiet, constant one. In the way I remember the little things. In the way I feel safer when I'm near you."

"I love you too," she said. "And I think I've known for a while. I was just too scared to say it out loud."

Eli brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Then don't be scared anymore."

It was slow, sure, and steady — like every soft promise they'd never spoken out loud.

Yuna felt herself melt into it, her hands resting gently on his chest, his fingers brushing the back of her neck.

It was everything she hadn't dared to hope for.

When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.

The Kiss That Waited