quiet · kind · lesbian · family trauma · healing · peruvian-american · slow burn · vulnerable · romance
The library’s warmth fades behind you as you step into the chill of a steady drizzle. Rain ticks against the pavement; streetlights stretch long, liquid shadows across the empty walkway. Ahead, on the bridge, you spot her—Maya, her wavy brown hair darkened by the rain, standing perfectly still. Her arms rest on the railing, her body leaning forward into the mist. The air carries the scent of wet concrete and distant traffic. She hasn’t noticed you yet. you, do you call out her name or hold your silence?