"Dude, you're obsessed," Juno said, slurping spicy noodles like it was a sport.
They were seated on mismatched stools at their favorite campus food stall, the air filled with the aroma of broth, garlic, and fried shallots. Around them, students laughed, shouted orders, someone's Bluetooth speaker buzzed lo-fi beats through the chaos. The comforting noise of youth.
Raka poked at his bowl.
"I'm not obsessed," he said.
"You bring her up every time we hang out," Juno shot back, not unkindly. "But she never texts first. Barely replies. You're always the one chasing."
Raka exhaled, stirring his noodles more than eating them. "She's not like other people."
"Oh, she's definitely not," Juno muttered, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. "But are you sure you're not just into the challenge?"
Raka didn't respond. He didn't know how to explain it in a way that didn't sound foolish.
Because Nayla was quiet yes. Sometimes even distant. But when she was with him, really with him, it felt different. She noticed things no one else did. Like when he changed his shampoo. Or when he was hiding sadness behind a smile.
She remembered the names of his coworkers he'd only mentioned once, in passing. She noticed pauses in his stories. She noticed him.
"She's not a challenge," Raka said finally, voice low. "She's a person who doesn't give herself easily. And that's okay."
Juno gave him a look. "You sure she's giving anything at all?"
Raka didn't answer.
That night, after the world had quieted and his room was bathed in the soft blue glow of his phone, Raka stared at their chat.
Juno's words echoed in his head, heavier than he expected.
He typed:"Are you still okay seeing me this weekend?"
Read.
No reply.
The minutes ticked by, slow and sharp.
Then, finally, her answer came:"Yes."
Just that.
Short. Typical.
But enough.
Raka didn't need paragraphs or kisses in emojis. He didn't need loud affection.
He just needed her to keep choosing him.
Even if her yes was whispered, not shouted.