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"It wasn't a kiss.
It wasn't a confession.
It was just our hands —
but my whole world changed."
Dear Diary,
It happened in the most ordinary way.
Which somehow made it extraordinary.
We were walking.
No destination.
Just two people drifting through the golden spill of late afternoon.
The sky was full of that soft light —
the kind that makes even silence feel sacred.
We weren't saying much.
I was talking about something small — a memory from when I was little.
He laughed, gently.
And then… it happened.
Our hands brushed.
Just once.
Just enough to send a ripple up my arm.
I thought it was an accident.
I told myself, Don't read into it.
But then… he did it again.
Softer this time.
Slower.
Like asking a question with his fingertips.
And without thinking —
without overanalyzing or retreating into my mind like I always do —
I answered.
I let my hand stay.
His fingers curled gently around mine,
and for a moment, the world stilled.
No cars.
No wind.
No weight.
Just two hands
woven like poetry —
quietly, shyly,
holding on.
It wasn't fireworks.
It was a pulse.
A promise.
A whisper between our palms:
I see you. I'm here. I feel it too.
I didn't look at him right away.
I was too busy memorizing the shape of the moment.
The way my breath changed.
The way my heart began to write a new rhythm.
When I finally looked up,
he was already looking at me.
Not with a smirk.
Not with nerves.
But with that look —
the one that says,
"You feel it too, don't you?"
I nodded, just barely.
And he smiled like the world had just handed him a secret he planned to keep forever.
It was just our hands.
But Diary…
my whole life fit inside that single touch.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌸🫱🏽🫲🏽
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