The morning came quietly, but something was different.
Noah felt it the moment he opened his eyes—a subtle heaviness in the air, like the calm before rain. The sunlight was softer today, filtered through thin clouds, and the birds outside sang less eagerly.
He sat on the edge of his bed, holding his notebook, but didn't open it.
Yesterday's tomorrow still echoed in his mind.
Elena was late.
Noah stood near the old tree at the edge of the square, checking his watch without realizing it. People passed by, voices overlapping, laughter rising and falling, but his eyes searched only one face.
She said tomorrow, he reminded himself.
And today was tomorrow.
Just as doubt began to whisper, he saw her.
Elena was walking toward him from the opposite end of the square, her steps slower than usual. Her eyes looked tired, her smile—when she finally reached him—was softer, less certain.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I had to help at home."
"It's okay," Noah replied quickly. "I was just… here."
She nodded, as if there was more she wanted to say but couldn't find the words.
They started walking, side by side, but the silence between them felt different from before. Not comfortable. Not heavy. Just… unsure.
Noah noticed it immediately.
They stopped near the river path where the village quieted. The water moved gently, reflecting the grey sky above.
"You seem far today," Noah said, gently, not accusing.
Elena's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "I'm just… thinking."
"About what?"
She hesitated.
"About things that shouldn't be rushed," she finally said.
Noah felt something shift inside him—not pain, not fear—but a warning.
"I'm not rushing," he said softly.
"I know," Elena replied, her voice almost a whisper. "That's what scares me."
He turned to face her fully now. "Why?"
Elena looked away, toward the river. "Because when something feels right too quickly, I start to wonder how long it can last."
Noah was silent for a moment. He understood her more than she knew.
"I don't want to be a moment," he said. "And I don't want to take anything from you that you're not ready to give."
Her breath caught, just slightly.
"That's the problem," she said. "You already feel like something more."
The words stayed between them like fragile glass.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them touched.
Yet the space felt full.
Elena finally turned back to him, her eyes searching his face, as if looking for something she was afraid to find.
"Can we slow down?" she asked.
Noah nodded without hesitation. "We already are."
A small, sad smile touched her lips. "Thank you."
They sat by the river in silence, watching the water move, letting thoughts settle. This time, the silence was not easy—but it was honest.
And that mattered.
After a while, Elena stood.
"I need to go."
Noah rose with her.
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
She paused, then nodded.
"Yes. But not like before."
He smiled gently.
"That's okay. We don't need to repeat moments. We can make new ones."
She looked at him then, truly looked at him, and something in her eyes softened—fear loosening its grip.
"Why are you so patient?" she asked.
Noah didn't answer immediately. Then he said, quietly,
"Because some things are worth waiting for… even if you don't know how they end."
That night, Elena lay awake longer than she wanted to.
Noah wrote longer than he planned.
And somewhere between distance and closeness, something deeper took root—
a bond that did not break under hesitation,
a connection that grew stronger in restraint.
Neither of them said it.
But both felt it.
The soul was already holding on.