WHEN THE WRONG BOY TEXTED ME

CHAPTER-3 "WHY SHOULD STOP TALKING"

For the next three days, Kian’s texts didn’t stop. Not incessantly, but just enough to be impossible to ignore. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart skipped—not because I cared about him (I told myself), but because his words carried something more than ordinary attention. They carried sincerity, honesty, and a subtle understanding that I wasn’t used to anymore.

I reminded myself constantly: He’s not your Coco. He’s not your past. He’s a stranger. But my fingers betrayed me.

Eva: “You should be fixing things with her, not talking to me.”

“I tried. She won’t talk,” he replied almost immediately. “It’s like I’m shouting at walls that don’t care anymore.”

Eva: “Then move on.”

“…to who?”

Eva: “Not me.”

“…okay, but why not?”

My chest tightened. My rational mind screamed: Because he’s dangerous. Because boys like him wreck hearts. Because you barely survived Coco.

But my words came out differently:

Eva: “Because you don’t even know me.”

He paused—well, the typing bubble hovered for what felt like forever. My stomach twisted, unsure whether to regret it or not.

“I know you hate Maths. You eat chocolate when stressed. You listen to sad songs at night. And you pretend you don’t care, but you care too much,” he finally sent.

I froze.

How did he…?

I never told him that.

Eva: “Are you stalking me? 😭”

“No. You just text like someone who feels a lot. And I like it.”

I blinked at my screen. I didn’t know whether to laugh, feel embarrassed, or hide under my bed. The boy was dangerously perceptive.

And yet… my heart did something strange—it beat faster. Not just faster, but with a dangerous flutter, like it had recognized a storm and wanted to be caught in it.

I tried to act indifferent. I typed:

Eva: “You’re… entertaining, I guess. But don’t get used to me.”