In between sundays

lol

im slowly getting used to this routine now. Sleeping late. Waking up early. Living in that thin space where night bleeds into morning and feelings quietly grow without asking for permission. It feels new, but also familiar in a strange way, like something my heart had been preparing for without telling me.

We’ve started communicating better texting, really. Long messages. Thoughtful ones. I still haven’t accepted his calls or video calls. The idea of seeing myself on a screen, or hearing my voice played back to me, makes my chest tighten. I’d rather type four hundred and fifty words, delete half of them, rewrite them, and press send with control than leave a voice note that reveals too much of me at once.

One day, while we were talking about how people see us, he said something that irritated me more than I expected.

He asked for a video call.

I said no gently and suggested a voice call instead. Then he replied that he understood, that maybe I felt I wasn’t beautiful, that he’d give me time to put on makeup if that would help.

That annoyed me. Deeply.

I told him immediately that I had never, not even once, felt less of myself. That my refusal had nothing to do with insecurity or beauty. I’m just not a makeup person. I don’t hide behind filters or powder. If I avoid the camera, it’s not because I don’t like my face it’s because I don’t like being seen before I’m ready.

He apologised. Properly. No defence. No excuses.

Then he asked again, softly, if we could do a voice call.

I hesitated. I told him my voice was terrible , awkward, unfamiliar even to me. He replied without thinking too hard: that he loved terrible voices.

That made me laugh.

So I agreed.

During the call, the silence wasn’t heavy. It felt careful. Safe. I told him about how people see me the labels that follow me around like shadows. “Nerd.”or maybe “Quiet.”some as “Too reserved.” I told him about that presentation in school how my mind had gone blank, how my hands shook, how my voice failed me in front of everyone. I told him how I messed it up, even though I had prepared, and how I ended up with a C grade that stayed with me longer than I wanted to admit.

I told him how that failure had bruised me. How it made me doubt myself in ways I don’t say out loud.

He listened.

And for once, I didn’t feel like I was explaining myself to be understood. I felt like I was simply being heard.

That night, I realised something else too: maybe the problem was never my voice. Maybe it was just that I hadn’t found the right ears yet.

Final Note

I’m learning that closeness doesn’t always arrive the way we expect it to. Sometimes, it doesn’t come through grand gestures or loud confessions, but through patience through someone staying, listening, apologising when they’re wrong, and giving you room to be exactly who you are.

This chapter isn’t about romance alone. It’s about being seen without being rushed. About finding a space where my silence isn’t mistaken for emptiness, and my hesitation isn’t confused for insecurity. It’s about learning that my voice shaky, careful, imperfect still deserves to be heard.

Maybe I’m still growing. Maybe I’m still figuring things out. But for the first time in a while, I don’t feel pressured to become someone else just to be accepted. And that, in itself, feels like progress.

If this routine continues the late nights, the honest conversations, the slow unlearning of fear then maybe I’m not losing myself after all.

Maybe I’m finding her.

#ChapterTwelve

#QuietGirl

#SoftConnections

#LearningToBeSeen

#LateNightConversations

#UnlearningFear

#ShyButPresent

#FindingMyVoice

#GentleGrowth

#TheGirlAfterTheFirstGirl