Mira matched with him on Hinge at 1:17 a.m.
She knows the time because she checked it again later. Not that night. A few days later, when it started to feel like something.
But at 1:17 a.m. on a Monday night, it didn’t.
At 1:17, she was lying on her side, phone too close to her face, thumb moving out of habit more than interest.
By that time, she had already decided the app was a mistake. She just hadn’t closed it yet.
His profile didn’t stand out. And that’s the part she keeps coming back to.
Nothing about it said pick me. No sharp one-liners. No “I’ll steal your dog” nonsense. Just a few photos that looked like they were taken without much thought.
Moreover, in one photo, he was captured mid-sentence with his mouth slightly open. Not flattering.
She almost swiped past. Then she didn’t. That’s all it was. A pause that lasted half a second longer than the others.
He didn’t message immediately. That should have been a good sign. Why? Because it meant he wasn’t waiting. Also, it meant she could forget about it.
TBH, she did expect a message – and waited for a few minutes before deciding that Hinge was, after all, completely useless.
So, she swiped some more before calling it a night, but there’s no denying she was restless.
Chapter 1:
The message came at 10:42 the next morning.
She saw it at 11:03, after a meeting that should have been an email. “Your profile feels edited,” he wrote. “Not fake. Just…held back.”
Mira stared at it longer than she liked. Of course, people usually said things like “you seem fun” or “love your vibe.”
This felt like someone had skipped a step.
So, she typed a reply. Then, deleted it. And then she typed another. “Everyone edits themselves,” she sent.
Three minutes passed.
“Yeah,” he replied. “But some people leave more in than others.”
She didn’t like him then. Not really.
Instead, it was just curiosity. There’s a difference – Curiosity doesn’t ask for anything. Rather, it just lingers.
They didn’t fall into easy conversation. And that’s important. In fact, it wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t constant. There were pauses that felt like dead ends.
At one point, she didn’t reply for six hours. At another time, he disappeared for almost a day.
It should have faded, right? Instead, it kept restarting like neither of them knew how to end it properly.
Chapter 2:
On the third day, he asked, “What did you remove from your profile?”
She was at her desk, pretending to work. The question annoyed her. Not because it was invasive. But because it was accurate.
“Why do you think I removed anything?” she replied.
“Because you answer questions like you’re avoiding something,” he said.
She locked her phone after that – and left it on the table. Also, she went to get coffee she didn’t want.
Once she came back, she checked if he had sent anything else. Well, he hadn’t – nor did she expect him to send yet another text. That wasn’t their style.
So, she replied that night, “I had something about leaving before people do.”
There, she replied. Then, she waited.
Nothing. Ten minutes passed. Then, another twenty minutes passed.
She told herself she didn’t care. Then his message came, “Why’d you delete it?”
She looked at the screen. Well, because it sounded dramatic. Because it was true. Also, because she didn’t want to explain it.
“Didn’t feel like something I should lead with,” she sent.
Typing. Stops. Typing again.
“Or something you wanted someone to notice?” he replied. That was the first moment she felt it.
Not attraction. Instead, it was a sort of exposure like he had stepped half a foot too close without asking.
She should have pulled back. But, she didn’t.
Chapter 3:
They moved to calls before the meeting. That wasn’t the plan. It just happened one night when typing felt slow.
His voice was lower than she expected. Not in a dramatic way, it was just steady.
Moreover, she liked how he didn’t fill the silence quickly. Instead, he let it sit. That made her aware of her own breathing.
The way she rushed to say something just to break it.
“Do you always do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Try to make sure there’s no pause.”
She leaned back against her pillow, “You notice a lot.”
“Only when I’m paying attention,” he said.
She shouldn’t have liked that. But she did.
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Chapter 4:
So, when they finally met, it wasn’t cinematic. There wasn’t any slow-motion moment or instant certainty.
He was just there, slightly taller than she expected. Also, slightly more tired-looking.
He was real. That’s what threw her. Because reality didn’t match the version in her head, and for a few minutes, she thought, ” This won’t work.
They sat down and ordered coffee. The first ten minutes were awkward.
Not cute, awkward, but actual awkward.
They were getting the timing wrong. Moreover, they were talking over each other. Then both went quiet at the same time.
Mira almost checked out. She had done this before. You can tell early when something doesn’t land.
So, she picked up her cup and ended up burning her tongue slightly.
“Shit,” she muttered.
He laughed, not loudly or politely. Like he couldn’t help it. And something about that broke the tension.
“Okay,” she said, setting the cup down. “Let’s restart.”
“Agreed,” he said.
Chapter 5:
“Hi.”
“Hello.”
That worked better. The conversation didn’t become perfect after that. But it became honest. Like I have been saying all along, there’s a difference.
Moreover, they didn’t try to impress each other. Instead, they said things, then took them back. Started stories, then forgot the point halfway.
At one point, she told him about a relationship she hadn’t planned to mention. Not the clean version, but the real one.
The part where she stayed longer than she should have. Then came the part where she knew it was ending, but kept acting like it wasn’t.
He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t nod as he understood. Instead, he just listened. That’s rarer than people think.
“Why didn’t you leave earlier?” he asked when she finished.
She shrugged, “Because leaving makes it real.”
He held her gaze for a second, “That’s not a great strategy.”
“I didn’t say it was good,” she replied. They walked after with no other plans. It was almost as if they didn’t want to end it yet.
At a crossing, he reached for her hand – Not dramatically or slowly. Just took it, like it made sense.
And she let him. That surprised her more than anything else that night.
Later, lying in bed, she replayed it – Not the big moments, but the small ones.
The way he didn’t rush to fill the silence. Also, the way he asked questions and actually waited for answers.
More importantly, the way she didn’t feel like she had to perform.
That was new. And new is dangerous.
Chapter 6:
A week later, she caught herself doing something she hadn’t done in a long time.
She was waiting.
Not for a message. But for a change for him.
They had plans, and he was ten minutes late. She checked her phone twice. Looked up every time someone walked in.
Her chest felt tight in a familiar way. And she hated it because this is how it starts.
You care. Then you wait. Then you lose.
When he finally arrived, slightly out of breath, apologizing, she cut him off.
“I don’t like waiting,” she said.
He nodded and said, “Okay.”
There wasn’t any defense or excuse. Just that.
“Say something,” she added.
“About what?”
“About why you’re late.”
He looked at her. “I lost track of time,” he said. “I’m not going to make up a better reason.”
She exhaled – Part annoyed. Part relieved. This is the part no one talks about.
Attraction is easy. But Consistency isn’t. And Mira had started to notice the cracks.
Chapter 7:
He pulled back sometimes. Not fully. Just enough.
For example, at times, he took longer to reply. Then, he canceled once. Also, at times, he seemed distracted on calls.
Old patterns but not unfamiliar ones.
So, she almost ended it. In fact, she typed the message, “Hey, I think this isn’t going to work.”
But I left it unsent and closed the app. Then, opened it again to read it. And then deleted it.
Instead, she said it out loud when they met next. “You disappear,” she said. He didn’t deny it, “I know.”
“Why?”
He rubbed his thumb against his palm, like he was thinking through it.
“I think I get used to things,” he said. “And then I get scared I’ll mess them up.”
“So you step back before you do?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She looked away, “That still messes it up.”
“I know.”
Silence, but not uncomfortable. Instead, it was just heavy.
“Why are you still here then?” he asked.
She didn’t answer immediately. Because the honest answer wasn’t clean, it wasn’t logical. It was just something else.
“Because I haven’t found a reason to leave yet.”
He nodded. That was it – No promises, no big declarations.
Just two people who knew exactly how this could go wrong. And still stayed.
Current Status:
That night, she opened Hinge again.
Not to scroll. But just to look.
Her profile stared back at her, “I overthink everything but pretend I don’t.”
She almost laughed. Then she edited it.
Not to sound better or to attract someone new. Just because it wasn’t true anymore.
“I don’t leave as quickly as I used to.”
She read it once, didn’t overthink it – but she did hit ‘save.’
Closed the app. And this time, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for something to happen.
She felt like she was already in the part where things either break or become something she wouldn’t know how to walk away from.
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