Sometimes, communicating on sofiadate.com/dating-advice/dating-someone-who-was-abused-by-a-narcissist is like slowly unfolding the pages of a book you're holding for the first time, but you already sense it will become your favorite. You don't know the plot, you can't imagine what will happen next, but the very tone of the text inspires trust. It's the same with a person: you know almost nothing about them yet, but there's something right in their messages, something that matches your own pace.

It's not an instant spark, not a bright emotion that takes your breath away. It's a quiet feeling of recognition. As if you're meeting not a stranger, but a reflection of a part of yourself you've long wanted to hear from the outside. And each new message is like a gentle touch. Unnoticeable, yet palpable.

You message infrequently, without constant monitoring, without the pressure of "who will respond first." There's honesty in this rhythm. There's no game, no attempt to please by any means necessary, no tension. Just two people moving toward each other so naturally, as if they've long known how to maintain distance and when to close it.

And you notice how calm you feel inside. How the anticipation of a response turns not into anxiety, but into a gentle wave of interest. This is a rare feeling—when communication doesn't drain energy, but rather returns it. And you suddenly understand: it's not the number of words that matters, but what they evoke.

Each new day brings small details: you guess the intonation of a phrase, you sense the mood of your interlocutor from a single emoji, or you catch yourself smiling at the screen simply because someone, far away, is also smiling. Not on purpose. Not for effect. But because they feel at ease with you.

And this "at ease" becomes the most precious thing. Without grand gestures, without promises, without dramatic confessions. There's only lightness, warmth, and a sense of movement—as if you're both moving in the same direction, hearing each other's silence.

And even if things may turn out differently in the future, there's this subtle moment of coincidence. Sometimes it's precisely this moment that's most memorable.