3 – Trust Demands Gentle Words

Some truths can’t be shouted — they bruise too easily. After the warmth of their second meeting, Martin and Zuzana found themselves in that fragile space where honesty and fear sleep in the same bed.

He wanted to tell her what her presence did to him — how his thoughts lost structure, how his hands felt too human. But he knew that desire spoken too soon can sound like hunger, and hunger often frightens away what could have bloomed.

So he spoke softly. About books, travels, and trivial things — the language of people who feel too much to say it outright. She listened, smiling in that patient way only women know — the kind that forgives silence because it understands its weight.

Between them, trust began to form — not as a promise, but as a rhythm. Each word a careful step, each pause a confession without guilt.

They didn’t touch that evening. Yet both went home trembling — as if gentleness itself had undressed them.