Two Broken Hearts Meet
834 Words
The cold evening arrived quietly, the kind that doesn’t announce itself with wind or rain, but with a gentle hush that settles into the air. The sky wore shades of fading blue and ash, and the sun slipped away like it didn’t want to be seen leaving. The cold crept in slowly, brushing against skin, curling around fingers, reminding everyone of its presence without a sound. Streetlights flickered on one by one, casting soft halos on the pavement, while distant footsteps echoed like whispers of lives passing by.
There was no music, no magic, no spark at first sight.
Fate brought them together on a rainy evening, in a quiet café where broken people went to hide from the world.
Lala sat by the window, stirring cold coffee she had ordered an hour ago. Her eyes were swollen, not from crying now, but from crying too much before. She had loved someone who promised forever and left without explanation. Every memory still sat heavy in her chest, like a wound that refused to close.
Across the room, Daniel sat alone, scrolling through messages he would never reply to. His heart had been shattered by someone he trusted with his entire soul. She didn’t cheat. She didn’t lie. She just stopped choosing him. And somehow, that hurt more.
Their eyes met accidentally.
There was something about the way she stared into nothingness, like she was searching for a version of herself she’d lost. Her sadness wasn’t loud; it was gentle, restrained, the kind that came from endurance rather than drama. It pulled at him in a way he didn’t understand.
He looked away quickly, telling himself not to stare. But something in his chest stirred—a quiet recognition. Pain recognizing pain.
The rain grew heavier, drumming against the roof. Thunder rumbled softly, like the sky sighing.
Lala finally lifted her cup, took a small sip, and winced at the bitterness. She almost laughed at the irony. Cold coffee on a cold day, in a cold season of her life. She set it down and exhaled slowly.
“That bad?” a gentle voice asked.
She looked up, startled.
Daniel stood there, uncertain, pointing awkwardly at her cup. His voice wasn’t intrusive—just soft, careful, as if he feared disturbing something fragile.
“It’s… honest,” she replied after a pause. “Not good. Not terrible. Just honest.”
He smiled faintly. “That’s how mine tastes too.”
A small silence followed, not uncomfortable, just new.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”
He pulled the chair out and sat across from her. For a moment, neither spoke. Outside, the rain continued its song.
“I’m Daniel,” he said finally.
“Lala,” she replied.
Something about the way he said her name made it feel warmer.
Not in a romantic way — more like two wounded souls recognizing pain in another.
Minutes later, the power went out.
A soft gasp filled the café, followed by awkward laughter. Phones lit up faces, shadows danced on the walls, and somehow the silence made the pain louder.
“Guess the universe wants us to talk,” Daniel said softly, trying to smile.
Lala hesitated, then nodded. “Or suffer together.”
That made him laugh — a real one. The kind he hadn’t heard from himself in months.
They talked carefully at first. Safe topics. Weather. Work. The café’s bad music. But pain has a way of rising when it senses safety. And soon, words began to fall without permission.
“I loved someone who stopped loving me,” Lala whispered.
Daniel swallowed. “I loved someone who never fought to keep me.”
They didn’t interrupt each other. They didn’t offer fake comfort. They just listened.
For the first time in a long time, Lala didn’t feel like she had to be strong. And Daniel didn’t feel like he had to pretend he was okay.
Days turned into messages. Messages turned into late-night calls. Late-night calls turned into healing.
They didn’t rush love. They were both afraid of breaking again.
But something gentle grew between them — something patient.
When Lala cried, Daniel didn’t try to fix her. He just stayed.
When Daniel doubted himself, Lala reminded him of the man he was before the pain.
They learned each other’s scars before they touched each other’s hearts.
One evening, as they walked under quiet streetlights, Lala said softly,
“I’m scared to love again.”
Daniel stopped walking. “Me too. But I’m more scared of missing something real because of what hurt me before.”
She looked at him, tears in her eyes — not from pain this time, but from hope.
They didn’t promise forever.
They promised honesty. Healing. And to choose each other, one day at a time.
Because sometimes love doesn’t come to save you.
Sometimes love meets you right in the middle of your brokenness…
and helps you heal together.
- Writer
