Mireya didn't sleep well that night.
Not because of noise.
But because of thoughts.
Jae's voice stayed with her. The way he said her name—carefully, like it mattered. The way he looked at her when he talked about words that were never sent.
She had spent years learning how not to feel too much.
Now her heart was forgetting the lesson.
At work the next day, she dropped a box of gloves.
They spilled everywhere.
"Oh no," she whispered.
A familiar pair of hands helped her pick them up.
"You know," Jae said lightly, "these things multiply when they hit the floor."
She laughed. "They do. It's science."
He smiled, then paused. "Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Just tired."
"You think too much," he said gently.
She looked at him. "So do you."
"Fair," he admitted.
They walked together during break, slower than usual.
"There's something I want to tell you," Jae said.
Mireya's heart jumped. Too fast.
She stopped walking.
He noticed immediately. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"
"No," she said quickly. "It's okay. I'm just… not good with surprises."
He nodded. "Me neither."
They sat on a low wall outside the hospital. The city hummed around them.
"I used to think," Jae said, staring ahead, "that if I stayed quiet, I wouldn't hurt anyone."
Mireya listened.
"But all I did was hurt myself," he continued. "And the person I cared about."
Her chest tightened.
"Do you regret it?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "Every day."
She swallowed. "Then why keep the letter?"
"Because it reminds me," he said softly. "That I can't live that way again."
He turned to her. Their faces were close now. Too close.
"Mireya," he said, careful but honest, "you make me want to try."
Her breath caught.
Try what?
Speaking?
Loving?
Starting over?
She wanted to ask.
She didn't.
Not yet.
Instead, she said, "You're braver than you think."
He smiled sadly. "Only with you."
The silence between them grew heavy—full of things almost said.
Later, as they parted ways, Jae hesitated.
"I won't rush you," he said. "About anything."
She nodded, grateful. "Thank you."
As she walked away, Mireya pressed her hand to her chest.
She had spent so long protecting her heart.
Now someone was standing close enough to touch it.
And she wasn't sure if she wanted to run—or stay.