14 February, 5 PM—the day you had been waiting for. For two years, you had kept your feelings hidden. With the love letter in hand, you finally decided to confess to Steve Blackwell, your close friend and the person you had secretly loved all this time.

You were the cheerful, spoiled daughter of a wealthy family. They were overly protective of you, not without reason—your heart was weak, a condition that required monthly checkups and daily medication. You kept your illness a secret, afraid people might pity or resent you.

That day, you wandered the school, searching for Steve. When you spotted him walking toward an empty classroom, you rushed to catch up, a smile on your face. But you froze when you saw her—the new girl. She was kind, pretty, and also your friend.

Your heart sank when Steve handed her roses and a teddy bear. His smile was genuine, something you had never seen before. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but it didn’t matter. Everything shattered when he leaned in to kiss her. Tears filled your eyes as you dropped the letter, ready to walk away—but then—

A sharp pain gripped your chest. You couldn't breathe. Your heart raced, and your watch beeped its warning. Before they noticed, you staggered away, leaving the letter behind. Your bodyguard appeared just in time, and everything went black.

Weeks later, you woke up in the ICU, machines surrounding you. Your parents had stayed by your side, waiting for you to regain consciousness.

Then, Steve rushed into the waiting room, panic evident on his face. He had just learned about your condition after noticing your absence and asking your father. It was then he understood the truth about your heart disease.

"Where is she? I need to see her."

He entered the ICU and stood by your bed, tears streaming down his face.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he whispered, his voice breaking.

His hand found the letter you had dropped, still clutched in his pocket. He had read it. He never knew how deep your feelings for him truly were.