🌙 Chapter 2 — The Way You Looked at Me
The first time you looked at me, really looked at me, something inside me stilled.
It wasn't just a glance — it was as if your eyes saw through every wall I had ever built. You didn't flinch at the cracks or the scars. You smiled, and somehow, I felt safe.
We met again that evening — not planned, not expected. The air was soft with the scent of rain, and the world felt quieter than usual. I remember your laugh — low, genuine, the kind that wraps around a person and stays.
We talked for hours. About nothing, and somehow, about everything. The way you spoke, it wasn't about impressing — it was about understanding. You listened the way no one ever had before. You made me believe that maybe love wasn't supposed to feel like a fire consuming everything — maybe it was supposed to feel like warmth after the storm.
When you brushed a strand of hair from my face, your fingers lingered for just a moment — enough for time to slow. I could feel my heart learning a new rhythm, one that beat in sync with yours.
Later, when you said goodnight, your voice held a softness I'll never forget.
It wasn't a goodbye. It was a promise — one neither of us had the courage to say out loud.
That night, I lay awake replaying every word, every look, every breath.
And somewhere between the memories and the moonlight, I realized something:
Love hadn't just found me.
It was beginning to stay.