I don't know if its
The morning doesn't start with silence this time.
It starts with knocking.
Not urgent. Not aggressive.
Just… patient.
I open the door already knowing who it is.
Alex stands there holding a small paper bag.
"I didn't order anything," I say before he can speak.
"I know," he replies.
That's it.
No explanation yet.
I step aside anyway.
Because at this point, my body reacts before my logic does.
He walks in, places the bag on the counter like it belongs there, and glances around the room.
"You slept better," he observes.
I squint at him. "Are you tracking my sleep now?"
"No."
A pause.
"Just noticing."
I don't like how easily he says things like that.
Like noticing me is normal.
Like I'm not supposed to question it.
I move toward the bag.
"What's this?"
"Breakfast," he says.
I open it.
It's simple.
Not fancy.
Just proper food.
And something warm.
I look at him slowly.
"You're getting very comfortable in my kitchen."
"I'm efficient in kitchens," he corrects.
"That's not the same thing."
"It is when you stop burning things."
I stare at him.
"…I've burned one thing."
"Twice."
I gasp. "That was a different pan."
"It was the same oil."
I can't even argue properly because he says it like evidence in a case file.
We end up sitting across from each other again.
It's becoming a pattern I don't know how to label.
Not friendship.
Not anything loud enough to define.
Just… shared space.
I take a bite and glance at him.
"You don't talk much about yourself," I say.
He doesn't look up from his coffee.
"There's not much to say."
"That's not true."
He finally meets my eyes.
"You think I have an interesting life?"
I shrug slightly. "You show up, fix things, analyze everything, then leave like a notification."
That makes him pause for a second.
Then—
"I travel for work," he says.
"Dangerous work?"
"Preventive work."
"That sounds like a polite way of saying yes."
He exhales slightly.
"People hire me when they don't want problems to become visible."
I tilt my head. "And you're good at it?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
Of course.
Later, I'm at my studio again.
But something feels slightly different today.
He's not just standing in the corner anymore.
He's closer.
Not physically invasive.
Just… present in a more defined way.
Like he's stopped treating my world as temporary.
I notice it when he speaks.
"This supplier is still unreliable."
I look up. "You checked them again?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He pauses.
Then answers honestly.
"Because they affect your deadlines."
I blink.
"You don't have to involve yourself in all of this."
"I know."
"But you still are."
"Yes."
Simple.
No defense.
No justification.
Just truth.
That's what makes it harder to argue with him.
My phone rings.
I don't even look at it anymore.
But I see the screen light up anyway.
Unknown number.
Again.
I hesitate.
Alex notices immediately.
"Still happening?" he asks.
I nod once.
He doesn't ask details.
He never pushes there.
Instead, he says, "Block unknown calls."
"I already blocked one person," I reply.
"This is not one person."
That lands differently.
I look at him.
He's not tense.
Not emotional.
Just certain.
And that certainty… is worse in a calm way.
By afternoon, I'm frustrated.
Not dramatically.
Just tired in the way work doesn't fix.
My sketch isn't working.
The design won't settle.
Alex steps closer, glancing at it.
"You're forcing it again," he says.
"I'm designing, not forcing."
"You're reacting emotionally."
I sigh. "Everything I do is emotional. I'm a designer."
He shakes his head slightly.
"No," he says. "You're designing around something you're not saying."
That makes me stop.
Slowly.
I look at him.
"…And what exactly am I not saying?"
He meets my gaze.
A beat.
Then—
"Whatever that call is doing to you."
Silence.
I hate how accurate he is.
Evening comes slower again.
We're both still there.
That's becoming the strangest part.
No one is rushing to leave.
No one is forcing distance.
I sit on the edge of the table.
"You know," I say quietly, "you're starting to feel like part of my routine."
He doesn't react immediately.
Then:
"That's not accidental."
I blink. "What does that mean?"
He looks at me properly now.
And for once, there's something slightly less neutral in his voice.
"It means I don't show up without reason."
A pause.
"And I don't stay without purpose."
That should sound heavy.
But it doesn't.
It just feels… honest.
I look away first.
Because I don't know what to do with honesty like that.
Not dramatic.
Not romantic.
Just real.
And somehow that feels more dangerous.
Because it doesn't leave space to pretend it's nothing.
Before he leaves, I stop him at the door.
Not intentionally.
It just happens.
"You always leave like nothing changes," I say.
He pauses.
Looks at me.
"Something does change," he replies.
"What?"
A beat.
"Your day," he says simply.
Then he leaves.
I stand there for a long moment after the door closes.
And for the first time, I realize something uncomfortable.
He's not becoming part of my life because he's trying to enter it.
He already has.
Quietly.
Without asking for permission.
And somehow…
I didn't stop him.
I dont know if its possible or not but a part of me is still afraid ....if something .....feelings...started to come between me and alex....i could lose my childhood friend....my only constant companion ....and that is too much a price to pay....my only option is too keep my heart and feelings locked...because i can't lose him.....not even for my heart .....
We will be friends ....
Just
Friends.....forever...
I sigh...
Why is my life so .....
.complicated...
I return to my study room....as i sit at my chair and start creating a design .....
A ring with black tiny stones on its side and a soft white pearl in the center ...the stones form like zigzag design and the peral sets well like surrounded in darkness yet glowing with its full might...