Chapter 7 A Tie and a Ring—That’s How They Know
A TIE AND A RING—THAT’S HOW THEY KNOW
VIOLET
If your heart were a landscape, would it be a forest, a desert, or the sea?
SilenceInMidnight: Forest. Dense. Quiet. Alive with things I’ve never said out loud.
It has been almost three months.
Two months and three weeks, to be exact, since I started talking to Night, and by talking, I mean living inside the quiet intimacy of typed words exchanged through the FYS app.
At this point, I deserve some kind of medal for restraint.
Even I’m surprised by how much patience I’ve managed to summon.
Every time my phone lights up with his name, there’s a familiar, pulsing urge to throw caution out the window, ask for his number, call him, and finally hear the voice that exists only in my imagination.
I want to see his face, to know if the man I’ve built up in my head bears any resemblance to the one who exists in the real world.
What stops me every single time is the vulnerability that slips through the cracks of his carefully measured words, and I conclude that he needs some more time.
SilenceInMidnight: My cook gave me a strange look when I handed her the recipe. She asked me twice if I was sure about the ingredients. You really trust your grandfather’s recipe?
My mouth curves without permission.
When Night asked about my favorite food, I told him about Pop’s Quesada Pasiega, his personal spin on a traditional dessert which works amazingly. I told him it was almost Pop’s birthday, and how every year, without fail, he would cook it just for me.
I even admitted that since he passed, I haven’t tried to make it myself—partly out of fear I’ll get it wrong and partly out of fear I’ll get it right and it still won’t taste like his.
So, Night suggested that tonight, exactly at eight, he and I could have dinner together—separate kitchens, separate cities, but the same meal and a chat window open between us.
“How’s Midnight?” Willow’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she drops into the chair across from me at the pizza place.
My friends insist on calling him Midnight, as if that nickname would remind me that he can’t be trusted.
I roll my eyes. “He’s good. Thanks for asking.”
Daisy and Elodie follow close behind, sliding into the seats beside Willow.
“Wasn’t the online chatting supposed to end by now?” Elodie folds her arms like a prosecutor.
Of course she’s the one to start. She’s the most skeptical of the four of us.
My friends might think they fooled me with the lunch invite, but I know exactly what this is. They want to know what’s going on between me and Night.
“I think we’re supposed to meet in a week,” I say carefully, as a thousand butterflies take flight in my stomach.
“In a week?” Daisy squeaks. “And you’re only telling us now? Are you okay, Vi?”
I know what she means. I’m the kind of person who gets excited when our town puts up a new billboard and announces it like it’s breaking news. If everything were normal, I’d be vibrating out of my seat at just the thought of meeting the man I’ve fallen in love with.
“What do you mean, you think?” Elodie presses, and suddenly all three of them are looking at me.
“If we both agree to continue after three months of chatting, FYS is supposed to plan an in-person date,” I explain slowly, choosing my words with care.
“They pick the location based on clues from our answers to the introductory questionnaire.” I let the sentence trail off, the silence saying what I don’t.
“And you’re not sure he wants to take that step?” Willow asks gently.
I lift one shoulder in a shrug that feels heavier than it should.
The fact is, we’ve talked about meeting several times, but always hypothetically, always wrapped in someday. Now that the day is close enough to feel real, there’s no concrete plan.
Shouldn’t we already be guessing where FYS might send us?
Shouldn’t he have already said he can’t wait to see me?
If I had my way, I would’ve told him two months ago—without hesitation or second-guessing—that I can’t wait to meet him in person. That I already know in my bones he’s my perfect match. And that I wasn’t joking even a little when I said FYS deserved an award for finding him for me.
“What the heck?” Daisy’s brows knit together with confusion written all over her face. “Why haven’t you asked him what he’s planning to do?”
“I don’t want to come off as too eager.” My words sound smaller out loud than they do in my head. “Or too excited.”
“But aren’t you?” Elodie’s voice is gentle but unflinching. “I thought the whole point of the anonymity was that you could just… be yourself.”
My heart sinks.
Have I not been myself with him?
I replay our conversations in my mind—the honesty, the laughter, the ease with which I share everything with him. The trust I’ve offered so easily without even having met him.
No. I’ve been myself. I’m only hesitating now.
“He’s shy,” I say finally. “I don’t want him to feel like I’m pushing him into something he’s not ready for.”
That earns me a brief silence, the kind that means my friends finally understand.
“I know nothing about online dating,” Willow says after a moment.
“I barely trust men I actually know, so trusting someone I’ve never met is out of the question for me.
But you’re you, Vi. And if Midnight is really who you think he is, wouldn’t it be important to know whether he can match your courage? And whether you’re okay if he can’t?”
“I agree with Wills,” Daisy adds, nodding slowly. “This could actually tell you more about him and yourself.”
I turn toward Elodie, who’s gone quiet, her gaze distant in that familiar way that means she’s arguing with herself internally. “What do you think, El?”
She exhales softly. “One part of my brain wants him to be everything you’ve imagined. The shy, reserved, gentle, kind man who is your perfect soulmate, even when he sounds like your complete opposite.”
I’m smiling before I realize it, and apparently so are Daisy and Willow.
“But the other part of my brain—the logical, exhausting one—keeps telling me you’ve signed up for serious heartbreak.” Worry tightens her expression. “That maybe this is how you will learn not everyone deserves your trust.”
She bites her bottom lip, then shakes her head. “And as much as I want the first part of my brain to win, I have a feeling it won’t. So my heart is stuck refereeing a war between the two.”
She sighs. “You don’t want to be me right now. I’ve gone through more Advil in the last two months than I care to admit.”
A quiet laugh escapes me. “I love your cynical brain. And for what it’s worth, I hope the hopeful part wins.”
I look around the table at the familiar mix of worry and wonder on their faces. The same expression they always wear whenever I leap before looking, whenever I believe too hard, whenever I’m demonstrating one of my many eccentricities, as my friends would call it.
“I’m going to ask him. You’re right. The whole point of the anonymity is that he knows the real me… and that I get to know the real him.”
After that, the conversation drifts naturally, back to Daisy’s daughter, Penny, and Willow’s fiancé’s little girl, Quill, and how impossibly fast they’re both growing. Eventually, I hug everyone goodbye, soaking up one last round of cautionary warnings from my friends.
I slide into my Fiat, shut the door behind me, and before I even think about starting the engine, my hand dips into my purse. My phone is already in my palm, and there’s a message from him.
SilenceInMidnight: What’s your favorite weather?
The question catches me by surprise.
Night has grown more expressive lately, his replies stretching into full sentences instead of the one- or two-worded careful fragments he started with. But this is different.
This isn’t a response to something I’ve asked. For the first time, he’s reaching for me first, initiating something by himself.
Warmth blooms within me, soft and unguarded.
ChaosInPurple: I think I can find something to love in every kind of weather, but I might be a little biased toward snow.
As if on cue, tiny snowflakes begin to tap against my windshield, light at first, tentative, like the sky is testing its courage.
I can’t believe I get to share the first snowfall of the season with him.
ChaosInPurple: That might also be because it’s snowing where I am.
I watch the snow fall in soft, unhurried wisps, the world beyond the glass fading into stillness.
SilenceInMidnight: It’s snowing where I am too, and I love absolutely everything about it. As a kid, I used to believe snow was nature’s personal blanket sent for me when I needed it most.
I don’t know how he does it.
But Night has this way of taking something simple and making it mean more than it normally would.
I know, with certainty, that snow will never feel ordinary to me again.
I’m parked near the town center, Lake Cherry stretched out before me, snowflakes scattering across its surface, the water dimpling with each soft impact.
I wonder what he’s seeing.
ChaosInPurple: Have you ever thought of the possibility of us already knowing each other in real life?
My fingers move fast, excitement fizzing under my skin as I hit send. If he’s someone from Cherrywood, wouldn’t that be the biggest coincidence?
His reply doesn’t come immediately, and in that pause, my breath turns shallow.
SilenceInMidnight: I’ve kept myself from thinking about that.
I reread his message, caught between two possibilities.
Is he avoiding the thought because he wants it to be true as much as I do, or does the idea itself frighten him?
Suddenly, I realize I’m too afraid to ask which one it is. I’m not brave enough for that yet.
ChaosInPurple: I don’t think I know anyone like you in real life. Do you?
SilenceInMidnight: Honestly, my circle beyond my family is very small. So even if we’ve crossed paths, I probably wouldn’t know.
ChaosInPurple: You’re not really a fan of people, are you?
SilenceInMidnight: I’m nodding my head in agreement.