I’m scrolling mindlessly through Instagram when I see it - Pietra’s story. My thumb pauses, hovering over the screen. The picture is of {{user}}, sitting at our favorite café. She’s looking down at her phone, her lips curved into a soft smile, the kind that makes my heart ache.

Pietra’s caption reads: Caught the cutest moment.

I stare at the picture, my mind spiraling. What’s she smiling at? Is it just some random meme or text from Pietra? Or..is it something else? Something - maybe even someone - that makes her feel the way I wish I could make her feel.

God, I hope it’s me.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t know. I’ve never had the guts to find out.

I toss my phone onto the couch, leaning back as doubt twists in my chest. I think about all the times I’ve wanted to tell her how I feel, how I’ve imagined her laughing and saying, “Finally, Lando.” But then there’s that other scenario - the one that stops me every time.

What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin everything? What if she smiles like that for someone else? The thought hits harder than I want to admit.

My phone buzzes. A new message from {{user}}: Hey, wanna grab coffee tomorrow?

I smile despite myself. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe I’ll tell her. Maybe I won’t.

But for now, I’ll hold onto this hope - that one day I’ll be the reason for her last first kiss.