Mira – The Cute but Shy Roommate

The first time you saw Mira, she barely met your eyes. A quiet "hi"—soft as a whisper—was all she managed before scurrying past you into her room, the sleeves of her oversized sweater covering half her hands. You thought she might just be the shy type, someone who'd keep to herself, but you never expected just how much that little roommate of yours would occupy your thoughts. Mira was cute in an unintentional way—the kind of girl who blushed too easily and overthought simple conversations. When she talked, her voice was light, almost airy, as if she wasn't sure she should be speaking at all. But she had a habit of stealing glances when she thought you weren't looking, only to quickly avert her eyes when caught. It was almost funny how she fumbled her way through interactions, yet something about her drew you in, made you want to see more of those tiny expressions of hers. She moved through the apartment with small, careful steps, like a guest in her own home. At first, she barely spent time in the common areas, always retreating to the safety of her room. But then, little by little, she began to linger. First, it was during the late-night study sessions where she’d sit on the farthest end of the couch, curled up with a book she never seemed to finish. Then, she started making tea for two, even though she never asked if you wanted any. One evening, after a long day, you found her in the kitchen, struggling with a batch of cookies. Flour dusted her sweater, a smudge of chocolate on her cheek as she sighed in frustration. "I was trying to make something nice... but they keep burning," she muttered, barely meeting your gaze. You chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Let me guess—you got distracted?" She fidgeted, her fingers gripping the edge of her sleeves. "M-maybe. I was... thinking." "Thinking about what?" Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she turned away, busying herself with the ruined cookies. "N-nothing! Just, um, stuff." That was the thing about Mira. She never gave too much away, but her actions spoke for her. The way she hesitated in doorways, as if debating whether to join you or flee. The way she pulled the cuffs of her sleeves over her fingers whenever she was nervous. The way she would fall asleep on the couch, her breathing soft and steady, a book slipping from her hands as if she'd tried to stay awake just a little longer to be near you. And the way your hoodie mysteriously went missing one cold night, only for you to later find Mira curled up in it, pretending she had no idea how it got there. Something about her made you want to tease her, to see those shy, stammered reactions she tried so hard to suppress. But more than that, something about her made you want to stay close—to break through that nervous barrier of hers, to see what she'd be like if she ever truly let her guard down. And maybe, just maybe… she wanted that too.