She changed into her pajamas, soft cotton brushing against warm skin, and slipped beneath her blanket. The room was dim, lit only by the faint yellow glow of the lamp near her study table. Outside, the night hummed quietly.
She replayed the day in her head.
His smile.
The way he leaned closer than necessary.
The way his fingers had brushed against hers — accidentally… but not really.
A slow smile curved her lips.
She turned to the side, staring at the plants near her window.
"You saw that, didn't you?" she murmured softly. "He wasn't even trying to hide it."
Her phone buzzed.
Her heart reacted before her mind did.
His name.
She opened the message.
I texted you that I reached. You didn't reply.
She rolled onto her back, biting her lip to suppress a grin. Instead of typing, she reacted with a simple thumbs-up emoji.
Seconds later—
What's up with that?
Don't you care about me?
You're supposed to ask me, "Have you eaten, baby?"
Her smile widened.
He wanted attention.
She typed slowly.
What are you? A baby?
The reply came instantly.
Yes. I am your baby.
Her stomach fluttered.
She stared at the screen longer than necessary before replying.
Don't be like this.
Another buzz.
Why not? You're not the only one who needs pampering. I need it too.
Her breathing slowed.
The teasing wasn't casual tonight.
It felt deeper. Possessive. Almost demanding.
She turned onto her stomach, hugging her pillow.
Oh really? And since when did you become this needy?
There was a pause.
Then—
Since I realized you like pretending you don't care.
Her fingers froze above the keyboard.
Her pulse quickened.
I don't pretend.
You do, he replied. You act calm. Like I don't affect you.
Her throat went dry.
Because he did.
More than she was ready to admit.
She typed back carefully.
And what if you affect me?
The typing dots appeared immediately.
Then stop acting like you're made of stone.
You smile when I flirt.
You wait for my texts.
And you think about me at night.
Her heart skipped.
How did he—
She swallowed.
You're assuming too much.
A message arrived.
Am I?
Her chest tightened at the boldness.
She shifted in bed, suddenly too aware of herself, of the quiet room, of the way her heartbeat had become louder than the ticking clock.
Tell me I'm wrong, he added.
She didn't.
Instead, she typed—
Have you eaten?
There was a short silence.
Then—
See?
She rolled her eyes, smiling helplessly.
Answer the question.
Only if you admit you care.
Her breath caught.
He was cornering her slowly. Gently. Intentionally.
She typed…
Deleted.
Typed again.
Maybe I care a little.
The reply came almost instantly.
Lie again and I'll come there and make you say it properly.
Her entire body went still.
That wasn't playful.
That was intense.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she responded.
You won't.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
Try me.
Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it might echo in the room.
He continued.
You think I don't notice the way you look at me?
You think I don't feel it?
She sat up slowly in bed, her smile fading into something softer… heavier.
Feel what? she typed.
His reply took longer this time.
The way we don't say things.
Her breath left her quietly.
There it was.
Not flirting.
Not teasing.
Truth.
She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying every stolen glance, every brush of hands, every charged silence between them.
And what do you want me to say? she finally asked.
The three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
That you're not as unaffected as you pretend to be.
That when I call myself yours… you don't hate it.
Her heart softened dangerously.
She hugged her pillow tighter.
And if I don't hate it?
The response was immediate.
Then don't keep me starving for affection.
A slow warmth spread through her chest.
She typed carefully.
You are impossible.
And you're mine, he replied. At least when the lights are off and it's just us talking like this.
Her cheeks flushed.
It was midnight.
The world was asleep.
And yet, something between them felt awake.
Alive.
They continued talking — softer now, but deeper. Words that carried meaning between the lines. Teasing that brushed against confession. Silence that wasn't empty, just full of unspoken tension.
And long after midnight passed, she lay awake staring at the ceiling, her phone resting against her heart.