The notes had been coming for weeks, each one carefully tucked into your locker with a small trinket—a keychain, a tiny origami crane, a bookmark. At first, you thought they might be from your friends, teasing you. But as the messages grew more heartfelt, describing moments you’d barely noticed yourself, you began to suspect someone else.

It wasn't until you dropped a stack of papers in class and the quiet kid, who barely spoke to anyone, silently helped you pick them up that you noticed the familiar handwriting on his notebook. He quickly closed it, but the glance was enough. Could it be him?