Beneath the hoodie,above my heart

I didn’t fall in love the way the world describes it—loud and sudden, like fireworks. No, mine came in quietly, like twilight. It was subtle at first—an unexpected comfort, an ease in conversation, and a certain peace that slipped into my chest each time I saw his name light up my screen. I can’t quite tell you the first moment I fell for him, only that it happened gradually. In the calm between our chats, in the way I caught myself smiling at messages no one else would find special. It was the kind of beginning that felt ordinary, but only because it was real. He didn’t sweep me off my feet; he met me on the ground. And somehow, that felt safer. Warmer. I still remember the first night I stayed up texting him like it was yesterday. My world was quiet, the night humming around me—and yet my heart was so full. We talked for hours. About nothing. About everything. And when the conversation finally slowed, I didn’t want it to end. The next day, I waited to hear from him again. I remember the thrill, the hesitation, the way my fingers hovered over my phone. And when he texted first, it was like being chosen. Like I mattered. He didn’t know, but I reread those messages again and again. I still do. They made me feel like I existed in someone else’s thoughts—like someone saw me, chose me, wanted to talk to me not out of obligation, but because I was me. There were little moments too—moments only I would remember. The way he said “hi baby” when I wasn’t expecting it. The way he laughed at my silly jokes. The day I told him I was nervous about something, and even though he wasn’t the most expressive person, he said just enough to make me feel like he was rooting for me. And maybe that’s how it started—me, always noticing the small things… and hoping, silently, that he noticed me in the same way. I never really believed in the kind of love that unfolds in everyday moments, but with him, I did. I believed because it felt different. Because it felt like home. He became a part of my rhythm. My late-night thoughts. My little joys. And even my tears. I didn’t know then that the same love that made me smile would one day leave me questioning everything I thought was certain. But at the beginning, all I knew was this: I had found something worth holding on to. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I was worth being loved that way too.