Nights felt a little colder now.
There were no longer the busy sounds of school life, no more rush to find a hidden corner just to sneak in a short conversation.
Just me, the soft hum of the city outside my window, and the faint light of my phone screen illuminating the darkness.
Sometimes it was just small talk.
“I had so much homework today.”
“I saw a cat that reminded me of you — stubborn and sleepy.”
“Don’t stay up too late, dummy.”
And sometimes… it was quiet.
Not because we ran out of things to say, but because even in the silence, our connection didn’t fray.
It was like we were two stars in the same sky — far apart, maybe, but always able to find each other by heart.
I would reply, sometimes teasing, sometimes genuine.
“Haha, that cat sounds cooler than me.”
“You too, dummy. Sleep well.”
It was simple. It wasn’t grand like the movies or dramatic like the novels.
But in those quiet exchanges, I felt something even deeper: a companionship that distance couldn’t dissolve.
Some nights, I’d step outside and look up.
The sky stretched endlessly above me, scattered with stars.
And somewhere under the same vast sky, she was living her days too — laughing, studying, smiling — maybe even thinking of me.
It was strange… how comforting that thought was.
Like two ships in a vast ocean, sending small lights to one another across the endless blue.
Not lost.
Just… waiting for the currents to guide us together again someday.
And until that day, I kept sending my little messages across the stars — hoping she would always know…
She wasn’t alone in this world.
And neither was I.
