Dear Jhi,

I didn’t know this day would feel different. It started like any other. You sent me a message. We talked during lunch like we always did. I remember our call getting cut because you ran out of load. Before I could even wonder what happened, you sent me a text telling me exactly that.

“Wala na akong load.”

It didn’t seem unusual. I smiled and thought we’d just continue talking later, like we always did. That’s what we always did. There was never a reason to worry. As the afternoon went by, I found myself opening Discord every now and then, expecting to see your name.

Nothing.

“It’s okay,” I told myself.

“He’s probably busy.”

Evening came. Still nothing. I looked at my phone more times than I’d like to admit. Every notification made me hope it was you. Every time it wasn’t, I’d lock my phone and tell myself not to overthink it.

You’d message eventually. You always did. Before going to bed, I sent you a simple message.

Good night. Sleep well.

I wasn’t asking for a long conversation. I wasn’t asking you to stay up with me. I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you. I put my phone beside my pillow, half expecting it to light up before I fell asleep.

It didn’t.

The next morning, I woke up and reached for my phone almost immediately.

No messages. I sent you another one.

Good morning. I hope you have a good day.

Again, I wasn’t asking for much. Just a tiny sign that you were okay. The day moved forward without you in it.

Lunch came. No call. The afternoon passed. No Discord notification. Night arrived. Still nothing.

It’s strange how quiet a day can become when you’ve gotten used to hearing someone’s voice.

Just a few days ago, we’d find any excuse to talk. Now, I found myself waiting for a single message. I kept telling myself not to assume the worst.

Maybe you were busy. Maybe your internet was acting up again. Maybe something unexpected had come up.

There were so many maybes. Enough to keep hope alive. Enough to stop me from believing that silence could mean something more.

So I waited.

Because that’s what you do when someone has become part of your everyday life.

You wait. You trust. You believe they’ll come back. And tonight, that’s exactly what I’m choosing to do.

I’ll wait for your message tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will sound like us again.

Always, Nikka

Dear Jhi,

I’ve been smiling ever since our conversation last night. Who would’ve thought we’d end up talking about three little words?

“I love you.”

You kept asking me to say it, and I kept teasing you.

I told you, “Darating din tayo d’yan. Huwag excited.” And I meant it.

Not because I didn’t want to say it. But because that’s just how I am.

I’m slow. I don’t fall for someone overnight.

I take my time. I like getting to know a person. I let my heart catch up before my words do. I never wanted “I love you” to become something I said just because someone wanted to hear it.

I wanted to mean it. That’s why I smiled when you kept insisting.

You were so eager, and I was trying my best not to rush something that I wanted to be real.

But in the end… I said it.

Not because you convinced me. Not because I felt pressured.

I said it because somewhere between our conversations, your good mornings, your good nights, the laughter, the teasing, and the little moments we shared…

I realized I wanted you to know. I love you.

Maybe it wasn’t the kind of love that had fully bloomed yet. Maybe it was still quietly growing. But it was real.

I was slowly falling for you.

And if you know me, you know how much that means. Because I don’t open my heart easily.

When I do, it’s never rushed. It’s intentional.

Last night, I wasn’t just giving you the words you wanted to hear.

I was giving you a piece of my heart. I hope you know that.

Love, Nikka

Dear Jhi,

It’s funny how I know so much about you, yet I still don’t really know what you look like.

I’ve heard your voice. I’ve listened to your stories. I’ve laughed with you, teased you, and spent hours talking to you on the phone.

But your face? That’s still a mystery.

I remember asking you to send me a picture. You did… Or at least, you said you did.

I looked at it for a while, then asked if it was really you.

You insisted it was. I didn’t believe you. You just laughed and said, “Walang labis, walang kulang.”

I still wasn’t convinced. Eventually, you sent me another one. This time, you were wearing a mask.

It was enough to prove that there was a person on the other side of all those calls, but not enough for me to finally know your face.

Some people would probably find that strange. Talking to someone every day without even knowing what they really look like. But somehow, it never bothered me as much as I thought it would.

Maybe because every time I got curious, you’d describe yourself instead.

You told me your hair was long. Not just long… Waist-length long. I tried to picture it. You said you had tattoos. You smoked.

You casually mentioned things about yourself as if they weren’t unusual at all, while I quietly tried to put the pieces together in my head. Every new detail became another brushstroke on a face I had never actually seen.

Sometimes I’d catch myself wondering if my imagination was anywhere close to reality.

Did your smile sound the way I imagined it? Did your eyes look kind? Did your laugh reach your eyes? Would I recognize you if you suddenly walked past me?

You once told me you’d rather meet me first than send me a proper picture. I never really understood why.

Maybe you wanted our first real impression of each other to happen face to face instead of through a screen. Maybe you were shy. Or maybe you simply liked keeping a little mystery.

Whatever the reason, I stopped asking after a while. Not because I wasn’t curious anymore.

I still was. Very much.

But somewhere between our lunch calls, our late-night conversations, and all the little stories you shared with me, I realized I had started knowing you in ways a photograph could never show.

I knew the sound of your voice when you were excited. I knew the pauses you made when you were thinking. I knew the way you laughed at your own jokes. I knew the gentleness in your voice whenever our conversations became serious.

Maybe that’s why I found myself smiling whenever my phone rang. Not because I finally knew what you looked like. But because I already knew the person behind the voice.

Still… I can’t help but wonder.

When we finally meet, will the face I’ve imagined all this time look anything like the real you? Or will I have to start getting to know you all over again?

Always, Nikka

Dear Jhi,

Can I tell you something a little silly?

I don’t think you realize what happens to me every time you call me “Baby Niks.”

There’s this feeling I can’t quite explain. It’s warm. Comforting.

The kind of feeling that quietly makes me smile without even trying.

Then you added one more word.

“Ko.”

“Baby Niks ko.”

I don’t know why, but that one little word made my heart pause for a second.

It sounded so natural when you said it, as if you’d been calling me that for a long time.

Of course, I had to tease you.

“Baby Niks mo? Sa’yo?”

I was pretending to question it, but the truth is… I found it cute. Really cute. I even smiled while reading it.

Maybe that’s why I teased you instead of admitting how much I liked hearing it.

You probably thought it was just a nickname. Maybe it was.

But to me, it was one of those little moments that quietly stayed.

I don’t know what we are yet. We’re still getting to know each other.

I’m still taking my time, slowly learning who you are, slowly letting my heart trust what it feels.

But hearing you call me “Baby Niks ko” made me wonder what it would feel like if one day, those words really belonged to us.

Maybe I’m overthinking a simple nickname. Or maybe that’s just who I am.

I tend to treasure the little things. The words people forget they said. The moments they probably don’t even remember.

I guess that’s why I’m writing this.

Because one day, you might forget you ever called me that. But I don’t think I will.

Always, Nikka

Dear Jhi,

I’ve been thinking about our conversation yesterday.

Thank you for trusting me with something so personal.

I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to lose someone you loved. As you shared your story, I wasn’t thinking about your past—I was thinking about the strength it must have taken for you to keep going after experiencing that kind of loss.

I’m glad you told me.

Not because it was a sad story, but because you trusted me enough to let me see a part of your heart that not everyone gets to see.

Please don’t ever feel like you have to hide that part of yourself from me.

If there are days when you miss her, it’s okay.

If there are days when the memories come back, it’s okay.

If there are things you’ve never had the chance to say, it’s okay.

You don’t have to pretend to be strong all the time.

I may not know exactly how you feel, but I want you to know that I’ll always listen without judging. You never have to carry everything by yourself.

Yesterday reminded me that everyone has a story. Everyone has scars that aren’t always visible. And now that I know a little more about yours, I don’t see you any differently.

If anything, I admire you even more.

Thank you for trusting me.

I hope one day, whenever life feels heavy, you’ll remember that you don’t always have to face it alone.

Take care, Jhi.

Always, Nikka