I Didn't Plan To Fall In Love.

Chapter 17 : When The Words Become Feelings.

“I didn’t plan to fall for him. I didn’t plan to let someone in again. But here I am, heart in my hands.” — Wendy

The school day dragged on slower than usual. Wendy couldn’t focus on anything — her mind replayed small moments with Wayne: the way he quietly handed her a pencil when she forgot one, how he always noticed when she was anxious, the way his voice could make her forget the shadows lingering inside her.

She told herself it was just comfort. Safety. Nothing more.

Yet, every time he laughed at something small, or brushed a stray hair from his face, her chest clenched. She wasn’t ready to admit it, even to herself, but a part of her had already crossed the line. She had fallen. Slowly. Quietly. Without warning.

After the last class, Wayne suggested they walk to the school garden. It had become their safe space — quiet, with the faint scent of flowers and damp grass. Wendy followed him, shoulders tense, heart thundering.

“Hey,” Wayne said softly, breaking the silence as they walked. “You’ve been a little… distant today. Everything okay?”

Wendy swallowed. She wanted to tell him everything — how fear still lingered, how joy felt foreign, how her heart had started beating faster for him when she hadn’t even noticed.

She stopped, turning to face him. The clouds hung low, heavy with the late afternoon light, but she felt a strange warmth from his presence.

“Wayne…” she began, voice trembling slightly. “I… I think I need to tell you something.”

He looked at her, calm, patient. “You can tell me anything, Wendy. You know that.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag. “I… I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan to… feel this way. About you.”

Wayne’s eyebrows lifted slightly, a quiet encouragement in his eyes. “About me?”

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “I didn’t plan to trust anyone again. I didn’t plan to… fall in love. But somehow… I think I have. And it scares me. Because I’ve been hurt before, and I… I don’t want to ruin what we have. Or lose what we have.”

Wayne’s face softened, and he took a careful step closer. “Wendy…” he said, his voice low but steady, “you’re not ruining anything. You’re not hurting me. I’ve felt the same way for a while, but I didn’t want to push you or make you feel pressured. I wanted to give you time… to feel safe. To choose this.”

Her breath caught. He had felt it too. All this time. She hadn’t imagined it.

“I… I didn’t know if it was real,” she admitted, tears prickling her eyes. “I thought maybe I was just… lonely, or scared, or desperate for someone who actually cares.”

Wayne reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s real, Wendy. And you don’t have to question it. Whatever you’re feeling — it’s safe. And I’m here. For all of it.”

She blinked, trying to process the calm certainty in his words. Her walls had been built high, brick by brick, over months of fear and betrayal. And yet, here he was, not breaking them down, not demanding, just standing patiently, letting her decide when to open the door.

“I don’t know if I can say it… properly,” she whispered. “But… I like you. More than I should, maybe. More than I expected. And I think… I’m falling.”

Wayne smiled, warmth spreading through his eyes. “Then I’m falling too. And I’ll wait. I’ll wait for every step you need to take. I’m not going anywhere.”

A gentle breeze blew, rustling the leaves around them. Wendy’s heart raced — not with fear, but with a fragile, exhilarating hope. She let herself lean slightly closer, careful, testing the air, testing him. He mirrored her movement without pressure, letting the closeness speak more than words ever could.

“You’re… different from anyone I’ve trusted,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “You make it… safe to feel again.”

“I’m glad,” he said softly. “Because I’ve been wanting to tell you the same thing for a while. You make it safe for me too, Wendy. You make me want to be better, to be steady, to… be with you.”

Her lips parted in surprise, a laugh of relief bubbling out. She had feared this moment — the vulnerability, the exposure — and yet, it felt like stepping into sunlight after months of storm.

“Then… maybe we can try?” she asked, heart hammering.

Wayne nodded, his smile gentle but certain. “One step at a time. No rush. No pressure. Just… us.”

And for the first time, Wendy didn’t feel the weight of fear pressing down. She felt… light. A tiny spark of hope, fragile but real, flickering inside her chest. She had survived the storm. She had reclaimed her strength. And now, she was opening her heart, just enough to let someone walk beside her — not in front, not behind, but right there.

And Wayne? He was steady. Protective. Patient. Trustworthy.

For the first time, Wendy realized she didn’t have to plan for love. She only had to let it happen — gently, quietly, and entirely on her terms.

She smiled, a real, unguarded smile, looking into his eyes. “Then… I guess this is the beginning.”

Wayne’s hand brushed hers, a quiet promise. “The beginning,” he echoed.

And for once, Wendy didn’t overthink. She just let herself feel, let herself trust, and let herself fall — carefully, cautiously, but entirely.

Because surviving the storm had taught her one thing: sometimes, letting someone in isn’t weakness. It’s courage.

And maybe… just maybe, this was the kind of love worth the risk.