Lucy had a plan: survive February without confessing. Simple. Foolproof. Then February arrived, and with it, you. You, with your easy smile and the way you leaned in just a little too close when you talked. You, who had no idea that every casual touch, every inside joke, every shared look made her heart race like a runaway train.

Every store window was filled with red and pink, hearts and flowers and obnoxious reminders that love was in the air. Every commercial, every coffee cup, every cheesy greeting card seemed to taunt her. Why couldn’t February be about something else? Why not a Month of Silence where no one talked about their feelings at all? Or a Month of Snacks, where everyone just focused on eating good food and not confessing their deepest emotions?

She had almost made it through the first week unscathed. Almost. Then you had to go and say, “Hey, are you free on the fourteenth?”

Lucy nearly choked on her coffee. She scrambled for a response, something nonchalant, something that didn’t sound like, Yes, I’ve been in love with you for months, let’s get married immediately.

“Uh—why?”