#leota

The honesty in her voice made it easy for Tavio to relax. Slowly, he began to share parts of his own story. He spoke about the apartment he had left behind, about the tension that had built between him and Heather and about the strange heaviness that had followed him for months. Hallie did not interrupt. She listened carefully, asking small questions that made the conversation feel balanced.

As the evening deepened, the talk became more personal. They noticed it at the same time: the ease of the moment, the quiet comfort of simply standing there together. By the time they finally said goodbye, both felt the same quiet certainty. They wanted to see each other again, not out of politeness, but out of genuine curiosity.

When Tavio walked back toward his friend's house, his steps felt lighter than they had in weeks. A smile followed him through the streets. More than once, he checked his phone, almost impatient to see the first message from Hallie appear on the screen.

The weeks that followed settled into an unexpected rhythm. They met every other day and their conversations stretched long into the evenings. With each meeting, the outlines of each other’s lives became clearer. Hallie enjoyed training and physical activity, spending time with plants and caring for small pieces of green life wherever she lived. Cooking, however, was something she openly hated. Tavio found that amusing and quickly offered a solution. He began inviting her to different restaurants across the city. Before long, those dinners became a quiet routine.

Around the same time, with the help of his friend, Tavio managed to find a small house near the beach. It was modest but bright, close enough to hear the ocean at night. Moving in filled him with a kind of energy he had not felt in very long. Hallie appeared naturally during those first days, helping him assemble furniture, carry boxes and decorate the rooms in simple ways that made the space feel lived in.

Months passed almost unnoticed while their evenings continued. Sometimes at restaurants, sometimes at the small house with takeout spread across the table. The conversations never seemed to run dry. And gradually, without either of them naming it directly, something between them began to change.

The friendship they had built so carefully no longer felt like the whole story. There were moments, small pauses, shared glances, the quiet way their laughter lingered, that suggested something else growing beneath the surface. Neither rushed to define it. Still, both sensed that whatever had begun on the pier had not stopped there.