Chapter 3 – More Than Small Talk
1036 Words
Rain tapped gently against the windows of the campus café, painting soft rivers down the glass. The gray sky cast a muted light across the small tables and cushioned chairs, and the usual buzz of student chatter was replaced with hushed tones and the soft clink of coffee cups.
Elena sat by the window, her laptop forgotten in front of her. A steaming mug of chai latte sat in her hands, warming her fingers as she watched the rain trail patterns like delicate vines. She loved this kind of weather—the kind that made the world feel quieter, slower, softer.
She wasn’t expecting Noah to join her.
But then there he was, shaking raindrops from his jacket, his dark hair damp and curling slightly at the edges. He spotted her and smiled, that familiar crooked smile that never felt forced.
“Mind if I join?” he asked.
Elena gestured to the seat across from her. “I was hoping you would.”
Noah sat down and placed a cardboard cup on the table—black coffee, plain, just like always. “Rainy days feel like a permission slip to pause,” he said, eyes scanning the window. “Like the universe saying, ‘Take a breath.’”
Elena smiled. “You always say things like that. Like you’ve spent hours narrating your own life in your head.”
He laughed, soft and unguarded. “I probably have. Occupational hazard of being a literature major.”
There was a brief silence, not awkward, just companionable. Outside, students rushed by under umbrellas, their laughter muffled by the rain. Inside, the café felt like a different world—warm, still, intimate.
“You ever feel like everyone else has it all figured out?” Elena asked suddenly, her voice quiet.
Noah looked at her, eyes thoughtful. “All the time.”
She traced a finger around the rim of her mug. “Sometimes I look around and see people so sure of who they are, what they want, where they’re going. And I’m just... trying to keep up.”
“Same,” Noah said. “Everyone talks about college like it’s this transformative journey—find your purpose, chase your passion, become someone. But no one tells you that the process is messy. Confusing.”
“I guess I just thought I’d feel more certain by now,” she admitted.
He nodded slowly. “You’re not alone, Elena. Most people are just pretending they know what they’re doing. Some are louder about it. Some are quieter. But most of us are walking question marks.”
She looked at him then, really looked. There was no judgment in his eyes. Only understanding.
“I’m scared of disappointing people,” she said, surprising herself. “My family expects a lot from me. Good grades. A good future. Stability. It’s like… I’m holding all their hopes in my hands.”
Noah was quiet for a moment, then said gently, “That’s a heavy thing to carry.”
Elena nodded. “It is.”
“I get it,” he continued. “My parents expect me to go into law. To use my ‘talent for words’ as they put it. But I don’t know if that’s what I want. Writing... teaching... that’s what lights me up. But I can’t shake the feeling that choosing it would be letting them down.”
Their eyes met across the table, the air between them charged with something real—something more than small talk.
“It’s hard,” she said. “Choosing yourself when it feels like a betrayal.”
Noah leaned back slightly, letting the truth of it settle. “But maybe it’s not betrayal. Maybe it’s trust. Trusting that who we are becoming matters just as much as who they hoped we’d be.”
Elena exhaled slowly, her fingers curling around her mug. “I never thought about it that way.”
“I think,” he said, voice low and steady, “that the right people—if they really love us—will learn to see our choices not as rejection, but as growth.”
They sat in silence again, but this time, it was filled with something deeper. Rain continued to streak the windows, blurring the world outside while sharpening the one inside.
Elena looked around the café, then back at Noah. “Isn’t it funny how a simple conversation can shift something inside you?”
He smiled. “Not funny. Beautiful.”
She shook her head slightly, amused. “You really are a poet at heart.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I just see the world a little softer when I’m around you.”
The words hit something in her chest, gentle and unexpected.
“I like talking to you,” she said.
“I like really talking to you,” he corrected. “Not the surface stuff. Not the usual campus chatter. But this. You’re one of the few people I can sit with in silence... and still feel understood.”
Elena felt warmth bloom behind her ribs, not the kind that rushed or demanded, but the kind that made you feel safe. Steady.
“Do you think,” she asked, voice barely above a whisper, “that we’re all just waiting for someone who sees us clearly—even in the middle of our uncertainty?”
Noah tilted his head, thoughtful. “Maybe we’re not waiting. Maybe we’re becoming ready. So that when the right person comes along, we don’t hide. We show up.”
She nodded, more to herself than to him. “That’s what this feels like.”
He looked at her with something quiet in his eyes. “Me too.”
The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the café now glowing with golden lamps and soft music playing in the background. Students came and went, but Elena and Noah stayed a little longer.
Because for once, the world didn’t need to rush.
Because sometimes, in the middle of a rainy afternoon, you find something more than small talk.
You find understanding. You find honesty.
You find the beginning of something that doesn’t need to be named to be real.
- Writer
