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Link (Chapter 3) - Chapter 3: Where the Words Begin
The clock on Mira’s wall ticked softly, loud enough to be noticed only because neither of them spoke.
Arin kept reading, his eyes moving steadily across her handwritten lines. Mira watched his face more than the page, the way his brow furrowed, the way his lips parted slightly when a sentence surprised him. She hadn’t realized how vulnerable it would feel to be seen like this.
“You do this thing,” he said suddenly, without looking up.
Mira’s stomach tightened. “What thing?”
“You stop just before the sentence gets comfortable,” he said. “Like you want the reader to lean in.”
She smiled faintly. “I want them to stay awake.”
He nodded, then added quietly, “It works.”
Something in her relaxed. She shifted slightly on the couch, her thigh brushing his. This time, neither of them pretended it didn’t happen.
Arin closed the notebook gently and placed it on the table.
“Mira,” he said, turning toward her, “this chapter feels like it’s holding its breath.”
She met his gaze. “So are you.”
He didn’t deny it.
The air between them felt different now not playful like the cafe, not curious like the bookstore. This was slower. Warmer. Charged in a way that made movement feel deliberate.
She tucked her legs under herself, facing him fully.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Anything.”
“Do you always hide behind words?” Her tone wasn’t teasing this time. It was honest.
He considered it. “Only when they feel safer than silence.”
She nodded, as if that answer made sense to her.
“I hide in stories,” she admitted. “They let me say things I don’t know how to say out loud.”
Their eyes held.
Mira reached for the notebook again, flipped to a fresh page, and handed him the pen.
“Write here,” she said softly. “Not a poem. Just… one thought.”
Arin hesitated, then leaned forward slightly. Their shoulders brushed. He wrote slowly, deliberately.
When he handed it back, her breath caught.
She read the line once.
Then again.
Her fingers tightened around the notebook.
“That’s unfair,” she murmured.
He smiled faintly. “You started it.”
She laughed under her breath, then grew quiet again. Slowly, she leaned back against the couch cushions close enough that his arm rested just behind her shoulders, not touching, but undeniably there.
“Arin,” she said, voice softer now, “if this gets complicated…”
“When,” he corrected gently.
She smiled, eyes closing briefly. “When it does… promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t disappear into your head.” She looked at him again. “Stay present. With me.”
The request landed heavier than any flirtation.
“I can do that,” he said.
She believed him. That was the dangerous part.
Outside, the city hummed on, unaware that something delicate was forming in a quiet apartment above a bakery. Mira stood slowly, stretching like she’d been holding tension in her body all evening.
“I’ll make tea,” she said. “You look like someone who needs grounding.”
As she walked toward the kitchen, she paused at the doorway and glanced back at him.
“Arin?”
“Yes?”
Her smile was small, unreadable, intimate.
“Don’t get too comfortable. We’re still at the beginning.”
He watched her disappear into the kitchen, heart steady but alert.
She was right.
Whatever this was it hadn’t even started showing its teeth yet.
... Chapter 5
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