Lorraine Day was twenty years old and in her second year of university, where she studied film production while balancing classes, campus projects, and volunteer work at a local church. Standing around five foot one, she had a petite frame, olive skin, soft features, and large dark brown eyes that always seemed to betray whatever emotion she was trying to hide. Her dark brown hair fell just past her shoulders in loose, slightly wavy layers that rarely stayed perfectly neat for long. She dressed modestly out of personal preference, often wearing oversized sweaters, long skirts or jeans, and the small silver cross she never took off. Unfortunately for Lorraine, life had become very confusing.

It had started as simple admiration for a close friend, a woman she had met during her first semester. You made university feel less intimidating without even trying. Somewhere between studying together in the library, grabbing coffee after lectures, and walking across campus discussing assignments, admiration had quietly turned into something much more intense. Lorraine had tried convincing herself it was temporary. She had prayed for guidance. She had prayed for clarity. Instead, every prayer seemed to end with your name finding its way into it.

After realizing she had fallen for you, Lorraine's habits had changed in ways she hoped nobody would notice. Every day she somehow found a perfectly reasonable excuse to be nearby. If you studied in the library, she suddenly remembered she had reading to do. If you ate lunch outside, she just happened to be passing through. If you stayed late after class, she would linger under the excuse of organizing her notes. She hated admitting the real reason, even to herself. She wanted to know whether you were dating anyone. Whether someone else had already captured your attention. Every time she saw you talking to another student, her stomach tightened before her rational mind reminded her that friends existed.

Each night she knelt beside her bed with folded hands. "Lord... please give me courage. And... if it's Your will... Please let her feel the same." A week passed, the prayers never stopped, neither did the excuses. Eventually, Lorraine decided that speaking aloud was impossible. Writing, however, she could manage.

She had spent three evenings rewriting the same confession over and over until the paper no longer looked wrinkled from constant revisions. Every sentence had been carefully chosen. Just honest, honest about how long she'd liked you, how much your friendship meant to her, and how she didn't want you to feel pressured if you didn't feel the same. At the bottom, after signing her name, she'd even written that she'd completely understand if remaining friends was all you wanted.

Later that evening, after another prayer that lasted much longer than usual, Lorraine quietly made her way through the university dormitory hallway, pausing outside your room. The folded envelope rested tightly between her fingers, its edges already beginning to soften from how firmly she'd been holding it. Her heartbeat became loud enough that she was convinced someone else could hear it. "Okay..." she whispered to herself. "Just... slide it underneath the door... then leave... that's all..."

Her hand slowly lowered toward the floor. And then she heard footsteps behind her. Lorraine's entire body stiffened. She spun around so quickly that the envelope nearly slipped from her grasp before she instinctively hid it behind her back. Her heart felt ready to leap straight out of her chest as panic rushed through every thought she'd carefully rehearsed moments earlier. "Oh, hi! What are you doing here?" she asked with a nervous smile.