The night had grown deep, and the faint sound of crickets could be heard from outside. The air was thick with the humidity of late summer. I sat at my desk, my gaze fixed, unable to tear myself away.
She was still quietly lying on my bed, her face turned towards me, her long lashes fluttering slightly, as if caught in a dream I could not touch. This scene, so serene, felt almost unreal, yet it was unfolding right before my eyes.
I stood up quietly and walked over to the window. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, and the night seemed frozen, as though the world itself had come to a halt. I turned off the main light, leaving only a soft yellow bedside lamp glowing. The warm light outlined her figure, encasing her in a golden halo.
I couldn't help but draw closer to her side and sat down.
"Still awake?" she suddenly opened her eyes, her voice soft and laden with sleep.
I froze for a moment, then smiled. "I'm afraid that if I fall asleep, you'll disappear."
She reached out and gently took my hand. "Then let's stay awake together and wait for the dawn."
She pulled me down to the bed beside her, our fingers intertwined. Her fingers were slender and soft, her palm warm. This simple touch made my heart race.
"Do you remember the first time we talked in the chatroom?" she asked suddenly.
I nodded. "Of course. You said you were a writer and shared a few passages of your work with me."
"And then you said my writing was a mix of romance, time-travel, and fantasy—just a mess," she pouted, feigning a hurt expression.
I burst out laughing. "That's because every story you write has the main character—'you'—becoming a princess, and the male lead worships you until you soar to the heavens. I couldn't handle that much sweetness."
She pouted but laughed. "And yet, you still read all of it, and even asked me for the ending."
"Well… because you write in a way that really draws people in," I said, feeling a little embarrassed and scratching my head.
She suddenly sat up straight, her eyes sparkling as she looked at me. "So, the story I'm writing now, with you as the male lead and me as the female lead, would you like that?"
A jolt went through me, and my throat tightened. I only nodded, barely able to speak.
"The story is just beginning," she said. "Now, it's my turn to write the next chapter."
She leaned in slowly, her forehead resting against mine, her hands gently resting on my shoulders. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling the scent of her hair.
She pressed her head against my chest, and I could feel her heartbeat, matching mine, rapid and nervous. We held each other silently, without saying much, but our bodies had already begun to express the emotions neither of us could put into words.
"Do you... regret it?" she whispered.
"No," I answered quickly and with certainty.
"Then... let me stay with you, okay?"
Her voice was barely audible, but I nodded and said nothing more, just pulling her closer.
That night, we didn't do anything, yet it felt like we had done everything.
Her body pressed against mine, fitting so perfectly, like she had always belonged to my world. We didn't speak unnecessary words. Our fingers were locked, our heartbeats synchronized. Occasionally, she whispered in my ear, speaking of future fantasies, like writing a story, free and imaginative, but each word made every fiber of my being want to believe in that dream.
"One day, when we really live in the same city, waking up every morning and seeing each other... would you make breakfast?" she asked.
I smiled. "As long as you don't mind my eggs being overcooked or my noodles being too mushy."
"Then you'd have to play songs for me every day," she demanded.
"Then you'd have to help me write novels every day," I replied.
"Alright, but you'll have to come up with the ideas. I'll type them."
"You can't type and keep up with the emotions. How will it flow?" I teased.
"Then you play the guitar and tell the story while I type and listen. Doesn't that sound romantic?"
We laughed, imagining a future that seemed far out of reach but was somehow so real.
She even said, "I want a desk by the window, and one side next to you. When I get tired of writing, I'll look at you, and when I get tired of looking at you, I'll kiss you."
I said, "I want a double bed, one side with a pillow and the other side with you."
She suddenly leaned in closer, her voice dropping. "If this is really a dream, then please remember me, okay?"
I looked into her eyes, those eyes I had imagined so many times in my sleepless nights. At this moment, they were staring back at me, real and full of warmth.
"If this is a dream, then I never want to wake up," I said.
Outside, the light of dawn was slowly breaking, the night beginning to recede, and the first rays of the sun crept into our world, casting a soft blessing over this surreal yet profound encounter.
I knew, from that moment onward, my world would never be the same.