The strange thing about time zones was that they made distance feel both smaller and bigger at the same time.
While her city slowly prepared to sleep…
his world was usually still awake.
Practice rooms.
Schedules.
Late-night recordings.
Bright studio lights that probably felt exhausting after a while.
And somehow— between India and Korea— both of them were started finding small moments for each other naturally.
Tonight the weather felt unusually calm.
No heavy rain.
No thunder.
Just soft wind entering through her balcony curtains while her laptop screen glowed tiredly in front of her.
Political science notes covered half of her bed.
The other half was occupied by snacks she promised herself she couldn’t eat while studying.
Clearly— that promise failed.
Her phone vibrated softly beside her.
A smile appeared on her face before she even checked it.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
> @Kairo.97:
> “Are you studying seriously or emotionally staring at the same page again?”
She immediately looked at her laptop like it betrayed her personally.
Then typed:
> “First of all… rude.”
Seen instantly.
> “That means I’m right.”
> “I hate how observant you are.”
A few seconds later:
> “No you don’t.”
Her heartbeat softened slightly.
And honestly?
He was right.
She leaned back against her chair while glancing at the clock.
10:42 PM.
Which meant it was already much later for him.
Her fingers paused above the keyboard.
> “Shouldn’t you sleep soon?”
Seen.
Then:
> “Practice ended late.”
Another message followed quickly.
> “You should sleep too though.”
She stared at the screen quietly.
Because that tiny concern still affected her every single time.
People usually told her to:
* study harder
* work more
* stop being emotional
But lately…
someone had started reminding her to rest instead.
And somehow that felt unfamiliar in the softest way possible.
She typed slowly.
> “I still have two chapters left.”
Seen.
Then instantly:
She laughed softly.
> “Says the person surviving on 3 hours of sleep.”
Typing bubble.
> “That information was shared in confidence.”
> “You literally posted it in a live once.”
> “Oh.”
She shook her head while smiling helplessly.
These conversations felt too easy now.
Like her mind relaxed automatically around him.
And maybe that was becoming the real problem.
Outside, the city lights glowed softly against the dark sky while her migraine slowly started building again behind her eyes.
She rubbed her forehead tiredly.
Unfortunately— someone noticed immediately.
> “Migraine?”
Her eyes widened slightly.
> “You notice EVERYTHING.”
Seen.
Then:
> “You disappear for a few seconds whenever the pain starts.”
Her chest tightened softly.
Because honestly?
Most people barely noticed when she were emotionally overwhelmed.
But he noticed tiny silences.
Tiny pauses.
Tiny changes in her tone.
And somehow…
that felt more intimate than compliments ever could.
She looked down at her notes again.
The words had started blurring slightly now.
Wonderful.
She sighed quietly before typing:
> “Maybe my brain is protesting against political science.”
A reply came instantly.
> “Impossible.”
Another message followed.
> “Future UN member can’t give up now.”
Her fingers froze above the screen.
Her eyes softened immediately.
Because he remembered.
That tiny conversation days ago.
Most people forgot her dreams quickly.
But somehow…
he didn’t.
She leaned back slowly while staring at his message longer than necessary.
Then typed quietly:
> “You actually remembered that?”
Seen.
A few seconds later:
> “Of course I did.”
Her heartbeat betrayed her again.
And suddenly— the room felt quieter than before.
Because somewhere between late-night conversations and emotional honesty…
someone had started paying attention to the parts of you that usually went unnoticed.
Not her appearance.
Not her smile.
Her dreams.
And maybe that mattered more than she wanted to admit.
Meanwhile.
Inside a nearly empty practice room, Kairo rested against the couch while staring at her chat quietly.
The building still buzzed with distant staff movement and music echoes.
But his thoughts stayed somewhere else completely.
On her.
On her words.
Her exhaustion.
Her ambitions.
And strangely…
he liked hearing about her world.
It felt different from the entertainment industry chaos surrounding him constantly.
She talked about changing systems.
Helping people.
Representing voices.
And somehow—
Her passion felt calming to listen to.
Not loud.
Not performative.
Just genuine.
Yahon suddenly walked into the room holding snacks dramatically.
“You’re texting again.”
Kairo didn’t even react anymore.
“You appear out of nowhere like a horror movie.”
Yahon narrowed his eyes suspiciously before dropping onto the couch beside him.
“She makes you calmer.”
Silence.
Kairo looked up slowly.
“What?”
Yahon shrugged casually.
“You look less tired lately.”
That sentence stayed in the room longer than expected.
Because maybe…
it was true.
Back in the room, her eyes slowly started closing against her own will.
The migraine medicine was finally making her sleepy.
She picked up her phone one last time before sleeping.
> “I think I’m finally losing the fight against sleep.”
Seen instantly.
Then:
> “Good.”
Another message appeared moments later.
> “Sleep properly tonight, okay?”
Her chest softened painfully again.
Such simple words.
Yet somehow…
they felt like care.
Real care.
She smiled faintly before replying:
> “You too.”
After a few seconds— another message arrived.
> “Goodnight, Saloni.”
Her breath caught slightly.
Because this was the first time— he used your name.
Not username.
Not “you.”
Saloni.
And somehow…
seeing your name in his message felt more dangerous than flirting ever could.