BEHIND OPEN WINDOW

Behind the Open Window

Aluna burst out laughing—a small, surprised laugh she didn't expect to make. It had been a long time since she laughed like that.

After the courier left, she took the food box upstairs. She placed it beside her notebook. That's when she noticed the little note taped on top.

Neat handwriting.
Black ink.

> "Your window was always open at night.
> If you're looking at the stars, I'm looking at the same ones from here."

Her heart warmed instantly.

Arga.
The boy who used to sit with her after school.
The boy who'd steal her notebook just to annoy her.
The boy who always told her to *eat first, write later.*

He had moved to another city for college years ago. They still followed each other on social media, but they never really talked anymore.

Yet somehow... he still remembered her window.

And her writing habits.

And her terrible tendency to forget dinner.

She opened the food box and took a bite. The fried rice was good—really good. Maybe it was the seasoning, or maybe it was the simple fact that someone out there still cared enough to remember small things about her.

She smiled and wrote another line in her notebook:

> "Sometimes what we call nostalgia is just hunger."

She laughed at her own sentence.

Then her phone buzzed.

A message request.
From **Arga**.

Her heart skipped.

She opened it.

> **Arga:**
> "Did the food arrive? Or did the cyclist run off and eat it?"

Aluna laughed again.

> **Aluna:**
> "It arrived, don't worry. Why fried rice though?"

> **Arga:**
> "Because you always forget to eat rice when you're writing. And because this place near my apartment makes the good stuff."

She could almost hear his voice saying it.

> **Arga:**
> "Also because I miss making fun of you."

Aluna's heart did a small flip.

> **Aluna:**
> "So earlier... I thought I saw someone sitting on the garden chair. That wasn't you magically appearing, right?"

> **Arga:**
> "As much as I'd love to teleport, no. Still alive and still stuck in this city."

> **Aluna:**
> "Good. A ghost sending fried rice would be... oddly thoughtful?"

> **Arga:**
> "If I ever die, I promise I'll haunt you with snacks."

She almost choked laughing.

They kept chatting. For minutes. Then longer. Then even longer.

It felt natural.
Comfortable.
Like no time had passed.

They talked about everything—college, work, frustrations, random childhood memories. At one point, they laughed about the time he fell into the river while trying to show her a magic card trick.

Hours passed without them noticing.

After a while, the conversation slowed down.
But not in a bad way.
In a warm, peaceful way.

Aluna put her phone down and looked at her open window again. The stars were still there, soft and quiet.

She remembered something from years ago.

---

## **Flashback: The Day He Moved Away**

They were sixteen. Arga's parents were moving to another city. On the day he left, Aluna stood awkwardly near the moving truck. She pretended she didn't care.

"You'll be fine," he said.

"You'll be annoying," she replied.

He laughed.

Before getting into the car, he suddenly said:

"Keep your window open at night, okay? You always write better when the stars are out."

Back then, she just shrugged.
Now... she understood.

---

Back in the present, Aluna sat by her window again, holding his note. She felt something warm bloom inside her chest—a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time.

She opened her notebook once more.

For the first time in forever, the words didn't feel stuck.
They flowed.
Easy.
Soft.
Honest.

She wrote:

> "Sometimes the quietest nights bring back the loudest parts of ourselves."

She closed the notebook gently.

The fried rice box sat empty beside her.
Her lamp glowed softly.
Her window stayed open.
And her heart felt full in a way she couldn't quite explain.

Before going to bed, she checked her phone one last time.

A new message from Arga:

> **Arga:**
> "Hey... don't sleep too late. You always complain about eye bags."

She smiled.

> **Aluna:**
> "Good night, Arga."

> **Arga:**
> "Good night, open-window girl."

She laughed quietly.

Outside, the wind blew through the open window again, soft and cool.
And for the first time in a long time, the night didn't feel empty.

It felt warm.
And alive.
Like something was beginning again.