---
"Sometimes, love is not a thunderclap.
It's just someone standing where they said they'd be—
waiting."
Dear Diary,
I walked home with applause still ringing in my ears.
Not the loud kind,
but the kind that stays beneath your ribs,
like a heartbeat reminding you
you were brave.
My backpack felt lighter,
even though my feet dragged.
School had taken something out of me —
a piece of energy I wasn't used to giving away.
And then,
there he was.
Leaning softly against the gate between our houses.
Hands in his pockets.
One headphone in.
As if he wasn't waiting — but still, he was.
He straightened when he saw me.
Not dramatically.
Just that quiet shift people make
when they want to make space for you.
"Hey," he said.
His voice always feels like dusk.
Soft, a little gold around the edges.
I looked down, embarrassed,
clutching my notebook like a shield.
"You came."
"Of course I did," he said, tilting his head.
"Wouldn't miss the moment Wunor sets the world on fire with words."
My face turned the color of strawberry jam.
We walked slowly toward the garden,
our shoulders not quite touching —
but close enough that I could feel the hum between us.
He asked about the project.
I told him about the glitter disaster,
about Jia's chaotic energy,
and how I almost didn't speak.
"But you did," he said, looking at me,
like I was something he'd been waiting to find.
There was a pause.
Then—
"You know," he added, "you're not just quiet.
You're intentional.
You speak like the words have roots."
I didn't say anything.
Just smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.
Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world,
he reached out and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.
"You were brilliant," he whispered.
And for the first time,
I believed it.
Because it didn't come from the stage,
or the teacher,
or even my friends.
It came from someone
who saw me at the window of a cardboard house
and still waited by the gate.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌿🚪💗
---