The soft hum of a late evening in Palawan filled Ellie's dorm room. Her laptop glowed with light, but her eyes were on her phone — waiting.
Ding.
Ady: "You free to call?"
Ellie: "Yeah. I've been waiting."
Her lips curled into a small smile as she plugged in her earphones. A moment later, his voice came through — soft, familiar, and oddly comforting.
"Hey," Ady said, his tone gentle.
"Hi," Ellie replied, hugging her pillow. "Rough day?"
"Not really. Just… slow. I've been thinking about you."
There was a pause. Neither of them pointed out what that meant. They didn't need to — not yet.
"Tell me something about your childhood," Ady asked.
Ellie chuckled. "Why?"
"Because I want to know you. The real you."
She bit her lip, thinking. "Okay… when I was seven, I tried to build a lemonade stand in front of our house. But I didn't know how to make lemonade, so I just sold water with lemon slices in it."
Ady burst into laughter. "How much did you charge?"
"Ten pesos," she said, laughing too. "And one kid came back and said it tasted like sadness."
"I would've bought one," Ady teased. "Even if it tasted like betrayal."
"I wish I met you back then," Ellie said, the words slipping out naturally.
"So do I."
One night turned into two. Then three. Weeks passed. They called even without saying much — Ady would play music while Ellie studied, or Ellie would read while he edited photos for a class project.
And slowly, stories turned into truths.
"I don't talk to my dad much anymore," Ady admitted one night. "We kind of grew distant after my mom passed. I think he blames me for not being home that night."
Ellie sat up straighter. "Ady… I'm so sorry."
He exhaled. "It's okay. I don't talk about it much. I just… wanted you to know."
Ellie paused. "Thank you. For trusting me."
There was a quiet moment between them, soft and still.
"You make it easy," he said.
Later that week, it was Ellie's turn.
"I used to be afraid of being alone," she said as they sat on a call past midnight. "Still am, sometimes."
Ady asked, "Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe because I always felt like I had to be 'the strong one' — the one who has it together. I act like I'm fine, but I'm tired of pretending."
"You don't have to pretend with me," Ady said.
And she believed him.
Joseph noticed it first.
"You're glowing," he told Ady one morning. "Seriously. That 'Ellie Effect' is real."
Ady rolled his eyes but smiled. "It's not like that."
Joseph raised a brow. "Dude, you talk to her every day. You don't smile at anyone like you smile at her."
"It's not that simple," Ady muttered.
Joseph leaned back. "Why not?"
Ady stared at his phone. "Because we haven't said it. Not directly. What if I say something and ruin what we have?"
Meanwhile, Ashley wasn't blind either.
"You're falling for him," she said, handing Ellie a snack during lunch.
"No, I'm not," Ellie replied, too quickly.
Ashley raised an eyebrow. "Ellie. Come on. You talk about him like he's a favorite song."
"I just… I don't want to lose him. What if he doesn't feel the same?"
Ashley softened. "Then you keep being his favorite person. And let it grow."
It was raining again when Ady called her. Ellie was under a blanket, her window fogged up, fairy lights reflecting off the glass.
"You ever wonder," Ady asked, "what this would be like if we lived in the same city?"
"All the time," Ellie whispered.
"I'd pick you up after class," he said. "Take you to random food stalls. Make you try spicy noodles you'd hate."
Ellie smiled. "I'd probably burn my tongue and complain the whole time."
"I'd bring water. And ice cream."
"I'd still complain."
"You'd still be cute."
Silence.
The air shifted. Something unspoken pulsed between them — a heartbeat neither of them named.
But neither said it.
Ellie wrote a message in her notes that night:
"Sometimes I want to say I love you. But I'm scared that saying it out loud will break what we have. So I'll hold it in — for now — and just show you in all the ways I can."
Ady stared at her last message for a long time, fingers swiping over his screen, before typing something… and deleting it.
"I think I might be falling for you."
He erased it. Instead, he sent:
Ady: "Thanks for being here. I really mean it."
Ellie: "Always."
One afternoon, they both sat on video call again, each in their own world, but connected.
Ady looked at her through the screen. "Let's not let this go. No matter how busy things get."
Ellie nodded. "We'll find time. Even if it's just once a week. Or twice a month."
Ady smiled. "Deal."
Neither of them knew what they were building. But they knew it mattered. And for now, that was enough.