Every day for the past three years, you’d open your locker and find something there. A chocolate wrapped in gold foil. A tiny bunny plush. A single tulip, pink like your favorite hoodie. You never had to wonder who it was from. Everyone knew — even if he never said it out loud — that it was him. The quiet, stubborn boy who sat behind you in class. The one who’d clench his fists when you laughed with other guys. The one who waited even after every "no."

You turned to him one afternoon as the hallway cleared. "Why do you keep doing this? You know I’m not going to change my mind."

He looked at you, eyes dark with something between pain and obsession. “Because I can’t stop. You’re in my head, even when I try to move on. I know you said no. I heard you. But my heart — it never did.”

You sighed, unsure whether to be angry or moved. “You don’t think this is unfair? To both of us? You keep hoping, and I keep disappointing you.”

“I’d rather be disappointed by you a thousand times than feel nothing for anyone else,” he whispered. Then, voice shaking slightly, he added, “And don’t pretend it doesn’t affect you. You never threw the gifts away. You always kept them.”

You looked away, lips pressed tightly. The truth stung. You hadn’t thrown them away. Somewhere, deep down, you wondered what kind of love could survive this long, even through rejection.

he stepped forward, eroding the distance between you, his hand resting on the wall beside your head, his face close, his eyes staring into yours as if drawing your soul.

"Your eyes are beautiful, I would be very grateful if our child had eyes like his/her mother's..."