The words between us



Peter had always been captivated by Olivia. She wasn’t just another girl in his class—she was the girl. The way her hair swayed when she walked, the way she tucked a strand behind her ear while reading, the way she smiled absentmindedly at the pages of her notebook—every little detail about her was poetry in itself.

But Peter? He was just another boy. Another face in the crowd. Another name on the attendance sheet. He knew she didn’t see him the way he saw her.

So he wrote.

He poured his admiration into words, crafting poetry laced with longing and admiration. Words he could never say out loud, but words that carried the depth of his emotions. One day, he mustered the courage to leave a poem on her desk before class started.

"Your eyes hold constellations unseen,

A world of wonder, dark and serene.

And in the silence where echoes fade,

You are the light, yet unaware of the shade."

Olivia found the paper and read it, her brows knitting together in thought. She glanced around but had no clue who had left it. She folded the poem and tucked it into her book.

Peter watched. And wrote again.

"You are not just a name, nor a face in the crowd,

You are the melody in the hush, the whisper in the loud.

A story untold, a verse incomplete,

Yet in your silence, my words find their beat."

Day after day, he left behind words like breadcrumbs, hoping she would follow them back to him.

One morning, their teacher announced a new project—a paired assignment. Peter’s heart pounded when the teacher called out his name next to Olivia’s.

They sat together for the first time, Olivia looking at him curiously.

“You’re Peter, right?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

He nodded. “Yes.”

There was a pause before he spoke again, this time choosing his words carefully. “Do you believe that some words hold more weight than others?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He hesitated before answering. “Like the ones you’ve been reading lately. The ones left on your desk.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “That was you?”

He nodded, watching her reaction.

She smiled softly. “They were… beautiful. Why didn’t you sign them?”

“Some words are meant to be read, not recognized,” he murmured.

Olivia studied him for a moment before looking down at their assignment. “Well, let’s make this project as poetic as your words, then.”

From that day on, conversation between them became natural. Their talks were filled with depth—about books, about dreams, about the little things that most people overlooked. Peter found himself falling deeper, and Olivia… she found herself intrigued.

One evening, as they worked on their project, Peter offered to walk Olivia home. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, the air crisp with the coming of fall.

“Do you always observe things this deeply?” Olivia asked, as they strolled side by side.

Peter chuckled. “Only when something is worth noticing.”

She glanced at him, her cheeks slightly flushed. “And you think I’m worth noticing?”

He stopped walking, turning to her. “You are the kind of poetry people spend lifetimes searching for.”

Her breath hitched, but she quickly smiled, shaking her head. “You really have a way with words.”

“Words are all I have.”

“They’re enough,” she whispered.

The next day, Peter found the courage to ask, “Would you like to go to the amusement park with me?”

To his surprise, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

Under the bright carnival lights, they laughed and screamed on the rides. When Olivia stopped to admire a plush teddy bear at one of the game stalls, Peter stepped forward, determined.

It took three tries, but he finally knocked down all the bottles. The vendor handed him the teddy bear, and he turned to Olivia, presenting it with a playful bow.

“For you.”

She hugged it, beaming. “You’re full of surprises, Peter.”

“And you’re full of wonder, Olivia.”

Days turned into weeks, and they became inseparable. They sat together in class, studied together in the library, and shared coffee on rainy afternoons.

One evening, Peter stood in front of Olivia, his heart racing. He held a piece of paper in his hand, but this time, he wanted to say the words aloud.

“I wrote something for you,” he admitted, his voice steady but full of emotion.

She smiled. “Let’s hear it.”

Taking a deep breath, he began:

**"In the quiet, where secrets reside,

I found a melody, in you, it confides.

A rhythm so gentle, a song so true,

Every verse, Olivia, leads me to you.

The stars could burn, the oceans could part,

But you will remain, the poem in my heart."**

Olivia’s eyes glistened as she stepped closer. “I think it’s my turn now.”

Peter watched as she took his hand and whispered:

"If I am the poem, then you are the ink,

Without you, Peter, I’d cease to think.

A blank page waiting, a soul yet to see,

But you filled the words that completed me."

His breath caught. “Does that mean…?”

She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Yes, Peter. It means yes.”

And just like that, words became love, and poetry became their forever.