"Some hearts don't arrive loudly. They arrive like a soft song — and never leave."
Dear Diary,
He moved in quietly —
like a page turning in a book I didn't know I was reading.
No grand entrances.
No loud music or moving trucks.
Just the soft thud of boxes,
a mother's gentle instructions,
and him —
a boy with midnight eyes and a half-smile like he was always thinking of something warm.
I saw him through the curtain first.
Holding a plant too big for his arms,
wearing an old shirt with paint smudges,
and a look on his face like he was trying to memorize the sky.
I fell a little in that moment.
Not in the kind of way that hurts.
But in the kind of way that feels like floating —
like your soul recognizes someone before your name does.
He didn't notice me, not at first.
I was the girl behind the window,
the quiet one who only spoke to the moon.
But soon, his eyes started looking for mine —
through fences,
through mornings,
through moments too ordinary to matter to anyone else.
We talked in waves.
In shy glances and half-smiles.
In "good mornings" that tasted like something sweeter.
He liked books with sad endings.
He played the guitar even when he didn't know the chords.
He said my name like it was a secret worth keeping.
And suddenly, Diary… I couldn't write without thinking of him.
Every poem turned into a silhouette.
Every sigh became a sentence.
And my dreams?
They started wearing his voice like perfume.
We never called it love.
Not out loud.
But we watered it with laughter, and late-night conversations, and shared silences that said more than words ever could.
He told me once,
"I like how your mind works."
And I swear my whole world bloomed.
It wasn't fireworks.
It wasn't chaos.
It was soft and slow and steady —
like watching the sun rise, and knowing you'll never see it the same way again.
I think some people arrive to remind us that our hearts still know how to open.
And maybe he's just a chapter —
or maybe he's a whole book I haven't finished reading yet.
Either way,
I'm grateful for the story he's writing into me.
One glance at a time.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌹📖