A Sweet Surrender

--- Chapter Six ---

Three months passed.

Three months of good mornings.

Of small conversations.

Of messages

between two people

still learning

how much distance

can exist

between curiosity

and trust.

And every few days

he would ask again.

Can I have your number?

I always changed the subject.

Not rudely.

Just gently —

as if the question

had floated past

without needing an answer.

But patience

has its own quiet gravity.

One day,

I gave in.

Not because

something dramatic happened.

Just this quiet realization ---

the conversation

was no longer accidental.

So I sent him my number.

A small gesture.

A sweet surrender.

And the tide,

once again,

shifted.

With one man,

it took me five days

to keep the bottle.

With another,

it took me five years

to hand over my number.

The heart learns slowly.

But it remembers everything.

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