It didn’t start with anything special.
Just a message.
“Busy girl.”
I stared at it for a second.
Confused.
But a little amused too.
“Aw, sorry. Was I?” I replied.
“Yes, you were.”
“And you weren’t?” I teased back.
There was a pause.
Just long enough to notice it.
Then I asked—
“What did you think I was busy with?”
One word came back.
“Adventure.”
And that was it.
Nothing serious.
No expectations.
No pressure.
Just two people replying…
when they could.
From Bottled—
where everything felt temporary and anonymous—
we moved to WhatsApp.
Names became real.
Messages felt heavier.
But nothing changed overnight.
We simply continued.
Good mornings.
Small replies.
Simple exchanges.
But somehow…
they started to feel intentional.
One day, I told him something small.
Something I hadn’t said in years.
“I’m so happy 😊 I haven’t cycled in so many years…”
It felt strange saying it out loud.
Like rediscovering something I didn’t know I missed.
The streets.
The sky.
The quiet peace.
And his reply came simple.
“I see u enjoyed ur day =)”
And I did.
But more than that…
I liked that someone was listening.
Days passed like that.
Nothing extraordinary.
Just fragments of everyday life.
Shared between two people.
Until one message shifted something quietly.
He wasn’t feeling well.
Cold.
Cough.
Exhaustion.
And I noticed it.
Differently this time.
I replied carefully.
Softly.
Checked again the next day.
And somewhere in that exchange…
I realized something.
We weren’t just talking anymore.
We were starting to care.
Time zones became part of us.
When my mornings were bright…
his day was already unfolding somewhere else.
One morning, he said—
“Nice dp Joyce.”
I paused.
Just slightly.
“He’s my grandpa… on his 94th birthday last year,” I replied.
There was a pause.
Longer this time.
“That was his last… he followed grandma in November… to the other side.”
“I remember, Joyce. You told me earlier,” he said.
“Aw sorry… I’ve just been missing them a lot these days.”
“I understand,” he replied.
“I can see they are very dear to you ❤️”
And in that moment…
I felt seen.
To shift the mood, I asked—
“By the way, when is your birthday?”
“19 June.”
“And yours?”
“It already passed.”
“When?”
“January 5th.”
“Oh… belated happy birthday to you.”
Then I joked—
“Make it an advance greeting instead—for 2024.”
And just like that…
the heaviness softened again.
One morning, something shifted.
“Good morning, dear.”
I froze for a second.
Dear.
Small word.
Heavy feeling.
We kept talking like that.
Weather.
Routines.
Mornings that didn’t match.
“May it be a cool sunny Friday morning out there 😊”
“It’s still dark here… but it’s cloudy,” he said.
Moments later—
“No, it’s sunny now 😂”
Different skies.
Same day.
Almost.
Then came the compliments.
“Nice dp Joyce.”
“Looking like a doll.”
“A doll? That’s a first 😂 I’m usually called a pink monkey.”
“No… you don’t look like a monkey,” he said.
“You’re like a doll.”
“Because I climb trees,” I teased.
“It’s talent,” he replied.
And somehow…
it was easy like that.
He asked for the photo.
I sent it.
“I really like this scenic beauty,” he said.
“It’s not even a real garden… just wild weeds growing,” I told him.
“This is incredible. Your place is beautiful.”
“I don’t live there though,” I replied.
“It’s just one of the 7,600+ islands here.”
“I live in an island too,” he said.
And just like that…
the world felt smaller.
“Any shots from your islands there?” I asked.
“I will send… it’s in my laptop.”
I waited.
A simple photo.
That was all.
But it never came.
Not that day.
Not the next.
And I told myself it was nothing.
Just a forgotten message.
Just a missing file.
Just life getting in the way.
Not everything gets sent.
Not everything gets followed through.
But some conversations stay.
In small words.
In paused replies.
In moments that didn’t seem important…
until later.
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Thank u (^_^)