Sam's POV
The world has been unusually quiet lately.Not the kind of quiet that comes from peace — the kind that lingers like unspoken words, too heavy to let go.
Ever since I found that note in my notebook — Liam's apology — it's been replaying in my mind over and over again. The handwriting was slightly messy, the ink smudged in one corner as if he had hesitated mid-sentence.
"I shouldn't have said those things. You didn't deserve it. I just… didn't know how to handle what I was feeling. I'm sorry."
I must've read it a dozen times, maybe more. Every word felt like a heartbeat, every pause like a sigh he didn't know how to voice aloud.
I wanted to ignore it. I told myself I would. But every time I opened that notebook, my heart betrayed me — my fingers traced the page like it held a secret I wasn't ready to forget.
And before I knew it, my pen started moving.
"Apology accepted.But next time, just say it. Words sound different when they're spoken — sometimes lighter, sometimes heavier, but real."
I didn't sign it. I didn't even plan to.I tore out the page carefully, folded it, and tucked it back into his desk during break, right before he returned from the canteen.
That's how it started — our quiet, unspoken exchange.
The next morning, the sunlight spilled lazily through the classroom windows, the warmth stretching across my desk like golden threads. Liam walked in, his usual calm expression returning, though his eyes flicked toward me for the briefest second — like a glance that knew too much.
He didn't say anything. Neither did I.
But when I opened my notebook after lunch, there it was again.
A new note.
"I didn't think you'd reply.You're right — spoken words are harder. But writing… feels safer.Thank you, Sam."
There was no name, but I knew it was him.It wasn't just the handwriting. It was the tone — quiet, cautious, like someone who was afraid of breaking something fragile.
I folded it and smiled to myself. It was silly, maybe. But there was something comforting about it — like a conversation that belonged only to us.
Zoe caught me smiling and raised a brow."What's that?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, closing my notebook.Her smirk deepened, but she didn't press further.
She just said, "You've been smiling a lot lately."
I looked away, pretending to search for my pen. "I… guess I have reasons to."
After school, I found myself in the library.It had become my quiet corner lately — the place where I could breathe without the noise of everything else.
I sat by the window, the sunlight now softer, brushing against the pages of my notebook.
I wrote back again.
"You don't have to thank me. I think… we both needed to say things we didn't before.I don't hate you, Liam. I never did."
My heart raced as I wrote that last line.It wasn't something I planned to say. It just slipped out — like a truth I had been holding in for too long.
When I saw him leave his bag unattended near the door later, I slid the folded note into the side pocket. My pulse hammered the whole time.
And when I got home that evening, I couldn't stop thinking about what his reply would be.
Liam's POV
When I reached home that night, I found the note.Tucked neatly in my bag, the edges slightly bent.
At first, I thought I was imagining it — but the handwriting was unmistakable. Sam's.Neat but not perfect, curved letters that carried a quiet rhythm.
"I don't hate you, Liam. I never did."
I sat there for a long time, just staring at it.
I didn't realize I was smiling until my stepmom's voice snapped me out of it."Why are you smiling at your bag like an idiot?" she asked sharply from the doorway.
I folded the note quickly, slipping it into my book."Nothing. Just school stuff."
She muttered something under her breath about "wasting time" and left, and I let out a long exhale.
Sam's words kept echoing. I don't hate you.It shouldn't have meant as much as it did, but it felt like someone had lifted a weight I didn't know I was still carrying.
The next day at school, I slipped my reply into her locker.
"That means more than you think.I'm not great with words, but I'll try not to ruin things again."
After that, things began to shift.Not suddenly — just small, gradual changes that felt almost invisible to others.
We didn't talk much in person, but when we did, it wasn't awkward anymore.She'd ask about homework, I'd tease her about her handwriting, she'd roll her eyes — the usual. But underneath it, there was something new. Something gentle.
During lunch, Zoe caught me glancing at Sam more than once."You two are… different lately," she said, chewing on her sandwich.
"Different?" I asked.
She grinned. "Less like thunder and lightning. More like clouds after rain."
I almost laughed. "That's… poetic."
She shrugged. "Maybe I'm catching it from Sam."
And just like that, my chest felt a little too full.
Sam's POV
By the end of the week, our notebooks had become something sacred.Pages filled with doodles, half-finished lines, small jokes, and thoughts we'd never say out loud.
One of his notes said:
"Do you ever feel like some words are too heavy to say, but too important to keep in?"
I wrote back:
"All the time. That's why people write. So the heart can speak without trembling."
That was the first time I realized how much I'd come to look forward to these silent exchanges.It wasn't about romance or secrets — it was about being understood. And somehow, Liam understood me in ways that words alone couldn't explain.
It was late that Friday evening when I stayed back in the library again.The sky outside was fading into orange and violet, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound around.
Zoe had already gone home after teasing me about my "mystery mood."I didn't correct her.
I pulled out my notebook, and inside was another folded note — his handwriting, again. I hadn't even seen him near my desk today.
"Sometimes, I wonder what you'd say if you knew I wrote these things for you.Maybe nothing. Maybe everything."
I stared at the words, my heart pounding so hard I could almost hear it echo through the quiet library.
Then, for the first time, I didn't write back right away.I just sat there — letting the warmth, the fear, and the strange, fragile happiness wash over me.
Liam's POV
That weekend, I went to the same café Zoe always dragged us to after exams.I didn't expect to see Sam there, sitting by the window with a notebook open and a cup of hot chocolate half-finished.
For a moment, I just stood there.Then she looked up — and smiled.
Not the polite, hesitant smile she used to give me.But the kind that felt like sunlight breaking through after a storm.
I sat across from her, and for the first time in weeks, we didn't need notes to talk.
"Hey," I said quietly.
"Hey," she replied. "You look… tired."
I chuckled. "You too."
She laughed softly, and that sound — it made something settle inside me.
There were no apologies this time. No hidden words or folded pages.Just silence — easy, warm, and real.
I didn't know what we were, or where this strange friendship was heading. But for the first time in a long time, I didn't need to know.
All I knew was that every word we'd written, every silence we'd shared, had brought us here — to this small moment that somehow felt like everything.
Sam's POV
Later that night, I opened my notebook again.There was one blank page left between all the letters.
I wrote one last line before closing it for the day.
"Sometimes, the loudest words are whispered in ink."
And I smiled — because somehow, I knew he'd understand.