He never noticed the change until it was already too deep to reverse.
It started as a normal phase—new people, new conversations, the kind that make office corridors a little less dull. She wasn’t the loudest voice in the room, but somehow, he always heard her. Noticed her. She had that soft unpredictability—the kind that doesn’t scream for attention, yet draws it all the same.
At first, it was just conversations. Random, ordinary. Then, it became about presence—hers in particular. His day started being defined by when he’d see her, and ended with thoughts about moments they hadn’t even shared.
He told himself it was casual. Harmless. That nothing had changed. But something had. He stopped sharing everything with people he always did. Stopped being the guy who never skipped a beat in routine. Subtly, invisibly—he started rearranging his world around her.
He wasn’t the type to hide things, but now there were parts of his day, of his thoughts, he couldn’t explain to anyone. Not because he didn’t trust them—but because he didn’t even fully understand it himself. What do you call something that’s not quite love, but heavier than a crush? What do you say when someone lives in your head rent-free, and you’re not even sure they know it?
He’d find himself doing things that didn’t feel like him. Taking the longer route just to cross paths. Offering help without reason. Saying things he didn’t plan to say. One day, he even offered her a lift. He didn’t think twice—it just happened. The wind was loud on the ride, but his heart was louder.
The next day, he sat in silence wondering why. Why did he care this much? Why was her mood dictating his own? Why did her unread message feel heavier than it should?
He tried reasoning. Tried pulling back. Tried telling himself this wasn’t wise. He was losing grip—on focus, on clarity, on the person he thought he was.
But every time he drew a line, the heart would quietly step over it.
It wasn’t about labels. He didn’t know if she felt the same. Didn’t even know if this would last. But in that chaotic in-between, something about caring—deeply and unreasonably—felt oddly real.
And maybe that was enough for now.
People wouldn’t understand. Some might call it foolish. Others, reckless.
But when your mind hesitates and your heart still leans in…
It’s not about right or wrong.
It’s about what you feel—even when you can’t explain why.
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