Maya wasn’t really into timing; she preferred to stick to logic and schedules, which made her a bit annoyed when Leo seemed to mess up her neat routine.

They worked in the same building, on different floors but shared a coffee machine. Leo was quiet and didn’t cause any trouble, but he did notice little things like her chipped mug, her habit of tucking her hair, and her dislike for sugar.

One morning, he said, ‘Still pretending you like it bitter?’

She looked at him, ‘I don’t pretend.’

He smiled, as if he knew better.

Even though they were close, they never crossed any lines. Their lunches were filled with long glances and almost-touches when they passed documents. Conversations got too personal before either of them backed off.

The tension stayed low, never turning into something big.

Maya told herself she was mature and grounded, brushing off the idea of romanticising closeness. But every time he stood a bit too close, her body reacted before her mind could catch up.

Neither of them spoke, and silence had a magnetic pull, leaving room for something to happen.

One Thursday evening, the office emptied early. Rain was pouring, making the cityscape outside look like a blur. They were the last two on their floor.

He stood by her desk, hands in his pockets.

‘Ever think,’ he started, then paused.

‘Think what?’

He looked at her, his hesitation new.

‘That some things don’t happen because no one’s brave enough?’

There it was… the edge.

The guard came down, and her heartbeat showed she wasn’t as calm as she seemed.

She had the chance to end it then, simply saying “Then say it” or stepping forward.  Instead, she leaned back in her chair.

‘Bravery’s overrated,’ she said lightly. ‘Timing matters more.’

He nodded slowly, and the moment disappeared.

Two months later, he moved interstate without any fuss, no confession or drama. Just a polite goodbye email.

She read it three times, finding nothing in its silence.

That was the loudest part.

Years from now, she’ll remember him differently… sharper, softer, more important. Not because of what happened, but because of what didn’t. The man doesn’t always come in a whirlwind; sometimes he comes in calm. He lowers his guard a bit, waiting to see if you will too. Sometimes both people wait, and waiting becomes the story.