Chapter 6: Daily Notes
Monday morning arrived with the kind of Brooklyn chill that made Lucia pull her scarf tighter around her neck. She had developed a routine over the last few days: wake up, feed Marbles, check for the little notes Jin had been leaving, and then start her workday. She felt a thrill every time she found one, even if it was just a small slip of paper tucked under her door.
Today, as she unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside, her eyes immediately caught the familiar corner of a note peeking from the threshold. Her heart skipped a beat.
She knelt to pick it up and unfolded it carefully. The neat handwriting made her smile even before she read the words:
"Good morning! Don't forget to smile today. Even small things matter."
Lucia laughed softly, tucking the note into her pocket. She paused for a moment, imagining Jin crouched in the hallway, leaving it there, probably hoping she would see it. A small warmth spread in her chest—a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and something she didn't quite want to label yet.
By the time she made coffee and started her work emails, the note had already brightened her mood. She even caught herself humming a little tune while sketching designs on her laptop.
Later that afternoon, she found herself thinking about Jin more than she expected. Not in a flustered, nervous way—but in a way that made her feel… light. She remembered their conversation about the Grape Theory, the way he had explained that small gestures, even tiny ones, could grow into something meaningful. And suddenly, the notes didn't feel random anymore. They felt intentional, thoughtful, personal.
That evening, as she returned home, she found another note, this one different:
"You're doing great. Even if it doesn't feel like it, every little step counts."
Lucia smiled, feeling a flush in her cheeks. Her mind wandered to Jin's shy, earnest expression from the last time they had seen each other. The thought of him crouched in the hallway, carefully leaving these little messages, made her heart thump in a way she hadn't expected.
For the first time, she decided to leave a note of her own. Not a grand declaration of love, just a small gesture in return—a tiny acknowledgment of the connection they were building.
She grabbed a sticky note from her desk and wrote:
"Thank you. Your notes make my days brighter. —L"
She hesitated for a moment, folding it carefully, then slid it under his apartment door across the hall. Her pulse quickened as she imagined him finding it.
The next morning, she discovered a reply waiting for her under her door:
"I'm glad! Your note made my day too. —J"
Lucia felt a warmth spread through her chest, a mixture of joy and playful excitement. The grape exchange had officially begun.
Over the next few days, their notes became a game of connection, each one a small window into their personalities, their moods, and their growing interest in one another. Some were practical:
"Remember to drink water today. You deserve it!"
Some were funny:
"If Mondays were grapes, I'd make them into wine. You're better than Monday."
And some were flirty, just a little:
"I wonder if your coffee tastes as sweet as your smile."
Lucia found herself laughing out loud at some of them, saving others to reread when she needed a boost. And slowly, she realized she was looking forward to the notes as much as she looked forward to seeing Jin in person.
One evening, she wrote a longer note, tucking it carefully under his door:
"Your notes are like tiny bursts of sunshine. Thank you for thinking of me. Maybe… one day, we can share coffee and smiles without the notes?"
The next day, Jin left a note that made her laugh so hard she almost dropped it:
"I'd say yes, but only if we can keep the sunshine. I might need your smile to water my grapes."
Lucia felt her cheeks flush. It was playful, warm, and romantic all at once. The notes weren't just words—they were a dialogue, a tiny, growing intimacy that neither of them had rushed, yet both felt deeply.
She began to notice herself thinking about Jin throughout the day:
How his eyebrows furrowed when he was concentrating
The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed
The subtle humor in the way he described ordinary things
She also started paying attention to small gestures in her own life—leaving her laundry folded neatly for herself, making time to water her plants, checking in on Marbles a little more attentively. She realized that part of the Grape Theory wasn't just about him or the notes—it was about noticing the small steps she was taking, and appreciating them too.
Jin, for his part, noticed her as well. When they crossed paths in the hallways, he would greet her with a shy smile and a soft, "Hey, Luce," and she would feel that familiar flutter. Sometimes he left notes in places she didn't expect: slipped inside her mailbox, tucked under her coffee cup on the counter, or even taped lightly to her apartment door handle. Each note carried the same warmth, thoughtfulness, and subtle charm, and each one made her feel closer to him.
One rainy evening, Lucia found a note that made her pause and smile more than usual:
"Rainy days are better with someone to share them. Coffee and laughter—interested?"
Her heart raced. She grabbed a sticky note and scrawled back quickly:
"Absolutely. When and where?"
The next morning, she found a note confirming their little meet-up:
"Today. 5:30 pm. Courtyard coffee. Don't be late! —J"
Lucia spent the day in a whirl of excitement. She felt like a teenager again, anticipating a first date—but this wasn't a first date. This was the first step in something sweet, gradual, and meaningful.
By the time she arrived in the courtyard, coffee in hand, she spotted Jin waiting with his own cup. He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Hey," he said softly, holding out a small note. "For you. One more grape?"
She laughed, taking it from him. It read simply:
"I'm glad this is happening."
"Me too," she said, smiling, feeling her cheeks warm.
They sat together, sharing sips of coffee and glances that lingered just a little too long. The notes had evolved into a playful, flirtatious conversation, but now, in person, the connection deepened. Every laugh, every shared story, every brush of hands across the table was a small step—another grape on their vine.
By the time the sun dipped behind the Brooklyn rooftops, painting the courtyard in soft pinks and golds, they had shared more than just coffee and notes. They had shared laughter, curiosity, and the first seeds of something that could grow into something lasting.
As Lucia walked back to her apartment later that evening, she tucked the small note into her journal. She paused at the door, thinking about the way Jin had looked at her, the warmth of his smile, and the gentle, persistent charm of their grape exchange.
She realized that she was no longer just reading the notes—she was living them. Each day, each small gesture, each playful line was part of a slow, beautiful rhythm that neither of them was rushing.
And maybe that was exactly how love was supposed to happen: one grape at a time, nurtured with care, patience, and a little bit of magic.