This shouldn't have happened to me... but now it's too late.

I didn't plan to get involved. I didn't plan to get used to your messages, to wait for them, to reread them. It all started easily—just a conversation, a little irony, no seriousness. No expectations. No plans.

And then it got deeper.

No drama, no disaster. It's just that at some point you realize: someone has taken up more space in your life than they should have. And the pause in the response is already noticeable. And the mood suddenly depends on the intonation.

Have you ever allowed yourself to feel, even if it breaks your rules? Or do you prefer to keep everything under control?

The most dangerous thing isn't passion. It's intense and quick.
More dangerous is affection. Quiet. Almost imperceptible.
The kind after which it's impossible to pretend you don't care.