The Echoes of His Silence

I didn't plan to meet him.
And he wasn't trying to be found.
But somehow, in the noise of the city, we found each other.

He was a stranger - quiet, unreadable, with eyes that held too much and lips that said too little.
But something about him felt... familiar. Like I'd known him in another life, or maybe in the spaces between the pages of all the books I used to underline when I believed in love.

We spent a day together.
Just one.
But in those hours, it felt like something deep inside me shifted - like I'd been waiting for him without knowing it.

He didn't say the words I hoped for.
He never made promises.
But the way he looked at me... the way he touched me... it said everything.

And maybe I should've guarded my heart.
But how could I, when his silence sounded like poetry,
and his presence felt like home?

This isn't a love story.
Not the kind that ends in flowers and forever.
But it's the story of something rare.
Of a moment that mattered.
Of a man who didn't speak much -
but whose silence still echoes inside me.