The city never sleeps, they say, but I've started to wonder if it ever truly notices people like me. People who feel invisible most of the time.
Yesterday, after the rain and coffee, something had shifted. The city outside my window buzzed as usual, but inside my head, I couldn't stop thinking about Riya. Her laugh, her soft eyes, the way she made a coffee shop feel like home.
I woke up earlier than usual today. Not because of work, not because of responsibilities—but because I hoped, somehow, I might see her again.
I texted her first this time.
"Hey… want to meet at the park today?"
It felt awkward sending it, but seconds later, my phone buzzed.
"Sure. See you there in an hour."
My heart raced like I'd run five kilometers. One hour. It felt like an eternity.
At the Park
She was already there when I arrived, sitting on the familiar bench, legs crossed, book in hand. I almost froze.
"Hey, Tom!" she said, looking up and smiling.
"Hi," I replied, walking over. "You're early."
"I like to be on time. Or maybe I just like seeing people I enjoy being with," she said softly.
Her words made my chest tighten. People I enjoy being with. That sounded too nice to be about me, and yet, it felt like it was.
We walked together slowly, finding a quiet corner of the park where the benches were free, the grass still wet from yesterday's rain. Today, the city seemed louder, but it didn't matter. We created our own little bubble of calm.
Coffee and Conversations
I had planned to ask her about her favorite movies, but the conversation took a different turn.
She asked, "Do you ever feel… like no one really notices you in the city?"
I blinked. That question was so simple and yet so heavy.
"All the time," I said honestly. "Sometimes, it feels like everyone's moving so fast that no one has time to see anyone else."
She nodded. "Exactly. And yet… when you notice someone, even just for a moment, it can feel like the city stopped. Like it finally makes sense."
I couldn't help but smile. "I felt that yesterday… and now."
Her eyes softened. "Me too."
We talked for hours, though it felt like minutes. She told me things she had never said to anyone: her favorite childhood memory, the book that made her cry, a fear of being unnoticed despite being capable.
I told her about the things I rarely shared—my photography obsession, my awkward attempts to make people laugh, the silent worries about the future.
She listened. Really listened. Not just waiting for her turn to talk. Her eyes followed mine, her head tilted slightly, absorbing every word.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt understood.
A Moment of Silence
At one point, neither of us spoke. We just sat there, watching the city move around us. Cars honked, people shouted, children laughed in the distance—but inside our little corner, there was nothing but calm.
I wanted to say something—something that would let her know I wasn't just enjoying her company, but thinking about her constantly—but the words wouldn't come.
She looked at me and smiled. "You're quiet today."
"I… was just thinking," I said honestly.
"About what?"
I hesitated. About how I feel about you. About how I can't stop thinking about you. About how the city feels different because you're in it.
Instead, I said, "About how… lucky I feel right now."
She smiled, but her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to read more than words.
The Walk Home
Time passed too quickly. The sun started setting, painting the sky with oranges and purples. The city lights blinked on one by one, and the streets filled with people heading home, tired from the day.
"I should go," she said softly, standing up.
"Yeah… me too," I replied.
We walked together for a bit, sharing the umbrella, the air between us filled with the comfort of familiarity.
At the corner where we parted, she looked at me seriously. "Tomorrow… will you come again?"
My heart skipped. "Of course."
She smiled and walked away.
I stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, feeling an emptiness I hadn't known before.
Because even in a city full of people, I realized something. Some connections, rare and quiet, make the city feel smaller, and the world feel bigger at the same time.
At Home That Night
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every laugh, every glance, every tiny moment from the park.
She was becoming a part of my routine. Not in the normal sense—work, life, sleep—but in my thoughts, my imagination, my quiet moments when the city felt overwhelming.
I didn't know where this was going. I didn't know if it was love yet. But I knew one thing:
I wanted to know everything about her.
Her dreams. Her fears. Her favorite coffee flavor. The songs that made her cry. The secrets she didn't tell anyone else.
Because somehow, in a city full of noise, Riya had become my calm.
Episode 5 Hook:
What secrets is Riya hiding?
Will Tom get closer to her or will the city's chaos push them apart before they even begin?