She felt the quiet weight of the night pressing in, making her thoughts louder than usual. Every little ping of the screen was a heartbeat of connection, a reminder of him—of the warmth and comfort he brought into her life, even if only through words.
"Loveee… I miss you," she typed, letting the honesty spill out.
"I miss you too, loveee," he replied softly, each word carrying the gentle reassurance she needed.
There was joy in the little exchanges: the playful teasing, the late-night sharing of thoughts, the subtle hints of affection that made her chest tighten. And yet, beneath the warmth, there was always the ache—the bittersweet knowledge that this love could not fully exist in the ordinary world.
"If only alternate universes existed," she wrote, almost as a sigh.
"Then I'd find you there, loveee. Always," he answered, his words steady, unshakable, comforting her in ways no one else could.
She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining him beside her, feeling the weight of longing and connection intertwine. Every message, every whispered "I love you," every late-night confession became a thread binding them together in a space that belonged only to them.
Even in the bittersweet ache, there was something sacred in their bond—something that, for now, was enough to keep her heart warm, even as the night stretched long and silent.