Between Us 

                                                                    Chapter 3

The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled like summer — wet leaves, and something faintly sweet drifting from the neighbor’s garden.

It was almost the midnight time when I heard a knock on my door.

“Ray,” a whisper. “You awake?”

It was Kim.

I hesitated before answering, trying not to sound like half-asleep. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Come outside for a walk?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Now?”

“Yeah. It’s quiet out. Promise I won’t let you trip.”

I rolled my eyes, but I grabbed my hoodie anyway. “Fine. Two minutes.”

The street was still shiny from the rain, reflecting the streetlights like broken glass. Our footsteps echoed softly as we walked side by side. 

Neither of us spoke for a while.

It wasn’t awkward — just quiet, like the world had gone still for us.

He looked across the road and said, “This place hasn’t changed at all.”

“Except me,” I said before thinking.

He looked at me, smiling slightly. “Yeah. You did.”

The way he said it made my chest tighten. Not teasing, not casual — just honest.

I looked away, pretending to not listening. 

“You’ve changed too.” I said.

“In a good way or bad?”

I shrugged. “Depends. Do you still steal chocolate milk?”

He laughed softly. “Maybe some habits don’t change.”

The sound of his laugh mixed with the quiet wind, and suddenly realised, I didn’t mind being outside in my slippers at midnight.

We stopped near the old park — the one where we used to caught fireflies when I was little and he pretended to be too cool for it.

I sat on the swing, gently pushing myself back and said. “Remember this?”

He nodded, sitting on the next swing. “You used to cry when you couldn’t catch one.”

“You said you’d catch one for me.” I said 

He smiled. “Did I?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “But you never did.”

For a second, neither of us spoke. The memory hung there — bright and quiet, like a lantern in the dark.

He reached out and stopped my swing. The air around us shifted — lighter, but full of something I couldn’t name.

“I guess I owe you one then,” he said.

My breath caught. “A firefly?”

He shook his head. “A promise.”

I didn’t ask what kind. Maybe I was scared to know.

On the way back, our hands brushed once — just a tiny, accidental touch. But my whole body noticed.

He didn’t pull away this time. Neither did I.

When we reached the gate, he looked at me like he wanted to say something but changed his mind.

“Goodnight, shortcake.”

I tried not to smile. “Goodnight, thief.”

And when I went back to my room, my heart was too loud and unable to sleep.