You didn't even know it was happening until it already had.
You don't fall — you drift. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, someone goes from a person you know to the person you think about when something funny happens. You don't rush it. You can't. The feelings have to earn their way in, passing through months of small moments and easy silences before you'll even admit they exist. And when you finally do? It's not a crash — it's a quiet certainty. Like you always knew. The flip side: by the time you say something, the other person has sometimes already moved on.
Get your read — free on iPhoneyou don't fall fast because falling fast has cost you something before. the slow burn isn't a style — it's a scar that learned to be patient.