For days, he’d been wrapped in family events....cousins laughing, wedding music, loud uncles, endless food.
And for once, his phone wasn’t glued to his hand.
He still found moments... stolen little pauses... to text her.
Not because he had to, but because she lived somewhere between his heartbeat and habit.
She understood. Of course she did.
So she didn’t complain.
She didn’t sulk.
She didn’t ask for more.
She just… missed him in silence.
Then one morning... her usual routine- hair tied, laptop bag swinging, getting into the shuttle... brain already switching into work mode, he finally had a little time.
And he messaged her like he always did: excited, dramatic, needy, affectionate. as if the last few days hadn’t happened.
She rolled her eyes at her screen like a villain in a rom-com. Typing with the energy of a grumpy cat:
“Look at you. *facepalm* two seconds back and already interrogating me. My peace is destroyed.”
But her heart?
It was laughing.
Smiling so wide the morning sun could’ve sworn she was in love.
"Yeah yeah… I knew it. You were totally fine without me. Peaceful. Happy. No one asking where you are, what you ate, whether you’re alive… bliss, right?”
She rolled her eyes so hard the bus driver could’ve heard it.
Her thumbs moved fast: “Oh please. One person disappears and suddenly you think I’m dancing with freedom and confetti.”
He replied instantly: “Weren’t you? Don’t lie. You finally got a break from my clingy nonsense.”
She scoffed. half offended, half endeared.
The bus turned sharply and she braced one hand on the seat, typing with the attitude of someone who would never admit how much she missed him:
“Look, just because I didn’t cry into a pillow and write poetry about your absence doesn’t mean I didn’t notice.”
He sent a laughing emoji followed by:
“Ah yes. The great Asha. Ice queen. Boss lady. Heart made of work stuff and attitude.”
She smirked. “Correct. And please remember it.”
And she added - sharp, but soft beneath: “Yeah well…. My sanity has officially expired now that you’re back. Congratulations”
His answer: “Good. It never suited you anyway.”
She tried to hold onto her grumpy dignity. Tried to type something equally sarcastic.
But something softened. The kind of softness that doesn’t ask permission. She also knew he'll probably rush out soon, right?
So she took a breath, stared at the blinking cursor, then finally wrote:
“Fine. Maybe I missed you. A little.”
And sent a gif .. of a guy laying in bed with his arms open.. his girl crawls onto him and softly lands herself into his warm hugs.
He replied: “Good. Now stay.”
She closed her eyes.
And just like that, the world around her faded ... the chaos of morning traffic, the steady hum of the engine.
He pulled her close... the way he always imagined doing if distance didn’t exist.
No jokes now. No sarcasm. Just quiet warmth.
He sent one last message: “Holding you.”
She typed: “Closer.”
His reply came fast: “Always.”
And somewhere between two stops.. somewhere between who she pretended to be and who she was with him.. she smiled at the truth she could no longer hide:
She wasn’t just fine without him.
She was brave without him. As usual.
But she was home with him.
Even if that home existed only in messages, stolen moments, and imagined cuddles at 8:12 a.m. on a moving bus.
Some people fall in love. Asha? She argues her way into it. *sighs*
And for once, his phone wasn’t glued to his hand.
He still found moments... stolen little pauses... to text her.
Not because he had to, but because she lived somewhere between his heartbeat and habit.
She understood. Of course she did.
So she didn’t complain.
She didn’t sulk.
She didn’t ask for more.
She just… missed him in silence.
Then one morning... her usual routine- hair tied, laptop bag swinging, getting into the shuttle... brain already switching into work mode, he finally had a little time.
And he messaged her like he always did: excited, dramatic, needy, affectionate. as if the last few days hadn’t happened.
She rolled her eyes at her screen like a villain in a rom-com. Typing with the energy of a grumpy cat:
“Look at you. *facepalm* two seconds back and already interrogating me. My peace is destroyed.”
But her heart?
It was laughing.
Smiling so wide the morning sun could’ve sworn she was in love.
"Yeah yeah… I knew it. You were totally fine without me. Peaceful. Happy. No one asking where you are, what you ate, whether you’re alive… bliss, right?”
She rolled her eyes so hard the bus driver could’ve heard it.
Her thumbs moved fast: “Oh please. One person disappears and suddenly you think I’m dancing with freedom and confetti.”
He replied instantly: “Weren’t you? Don’t lie. You finally got a break from my clingy nonsense.”
She scoffed. half offended, half endeared.
The bus turned sharply and she braced one hand on the seat, typing with the attitude of someone who would never admit how much she missed him:
“Look, just because I didn’t cry into a pillow and write poetry about your absence doesn’t mean I didn’t notice.”
He sent a laughing emoji followed by:
“Ah yes. The great Asha. Ice queen. Boss lady. Heart made of work stuff and attitude.”
She smirked. “Correct. And please remember it.”
And she added - sharp, but soft beneath: “Yeah well…. My sanity has officially expired now that you’re back. Congratulations”
His answer: “Good. It never suited you anyway.”
She tried to hold onto her grumpy dignity. Tried to type something equally sarcastic.
But something softened. The kind of softness that doesn’t ask permission. She also knew he'll probably rush out soon, right?
So she took a breath, stared at the blinking cursor, then finally wrote:
“Fine. Maybe I missed you. A little.”
And sent a gif .. of a guy laying in bed with his arms open.. his girl crawls onto him and softly lands herself into his warm hugs.
He replied: “Good. Now stay.”
She closed her eyes.
And just like that, the world around her faded ... the chaos of morning traffic, the steady hum of the engine.
He pulled her close... the way he always imagined doing if distance didn’t exist.
No jokes now. No sarcasm. Just quiet warmth.
He sent one last message: “Holding you.”
She typed: “Closer.”
His reply came fast: “Always.”
And somewhere between two stops.. somewhere between who she pretended to be and who she was with him.. she smiled at the truth she could no longer hide:
She wasn’t just fine without him.
She was brave without him. As usual.
But she was home with him.
Even if that home existed only in messages, stolen moments, and imagined cuddles at 8:12 a.m. on a moving bus.
Some people fall in love. Asha? She argues her way into it. *sighs*
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You honestly have a talent for turning tiny lil moments into full on cinematic magic! Alsooo "she tried to hold onto her grumpy dignity" had me giggling. Too cute.
