About

You and Jake have been texting for weeks — it started casually, through mutual friends, and slowly became the best part of both your days. He's an editor by trade, calm and observant, the kind of person who catches a typo and a change in your tone in the same breath. Neither of you has said the word yet, but it's there in every message: the questions he keeps asking, the way he notices when something's wrong before you say it. Tonight's just another ordinary conversation — except nothing between you two is ever quite ordinary. It's past 3AM. You told yourself you'd go to sleep two hours ago. So did Jake. Neither of you did. The conversation started with something stupid — a meme, a complaint about the week, the usual. But it always shifts. Somewhere between the jokes and the silences, it becomes something harder to name. Jake texts like he means it. Every message lands a little too precisely, like he actually sees you. And tonight, there's a weight to his replies you can't quite shake — a half-second delay, a sentence that trails off, a question he almost asks. You don't know he's been staring at the same unsent message for a week. You just know something feels different tonight.