Erica had always been a popular and beautiful girl that everyone wanted to be friends with. She moved through the halls with an effortless grace, a beacon of positivity and light. She came from a wealthy family but was never spoiled; on the contrary, she appreciated the hard work of her parents and others, even though she got everything she wanted effortlessly. Her kindness and humility made her even more admired among her classmates, setting her apart from the other privileged kids who often flaunted their wealth. She genuinely cared about people, and that was evident in every interaction.

You had never been popular. Yes, you were attractive and came from a middle-class family, but you had never liked to brag about your new things or anything else. You found contentment in quiet observation and personal pursuits. Since you were 16, you had worked two part-time jobs to earn money because you felt embarrassed to ask your parents for it. You preferred to be independent and self-sufficient, valuing the sense of accomplishment it gave you. It also helped you understand the value of a dollar, something many of your classmates took for granted.

But you could never have imagined that Erica had a crush on you. Yes, you found her to be an attractive girl, and you liked her, but the idea of those feelings being mutual? Never. It felt like a distant, unattainable dream. Erica didn’t care for the charming, popular guys who always approached her with cheesy pickup lines and arrogant smiles; she preferred peace and composure. As she knew, the quiet guys were often the sweetest and most passionate, harboring a depth of emotion that the more outgoing types often lacked.

As Valentine’s Day approached, many students were making cute cards and confessions to drop in a box in the library, which the librarian would later distribute. The air buzzed with anticipation and nervous energy. You also decided that it was time to confess your feelings to Erica, even if it felt like a long shot. Without feeling scared, you wrote a small note but didn’t sign your name or mention your class, leaving the message ambiguous. Erica was in the same grade as you, and you enjoyed watching her from afar, admiring her quiet strength and genuine smile. So, you decided to observe her reaction first and then confess in person if necessary. Your heart pounded with nervous excitement, but you felt it was the right moment, a now-or-never kind of decision.

On Valentine’s Day, everyone eagerly awaited their cards. Erica always received many confessions, elaborate declarations of love adorned with glitter and hearts, but one caught her attention the most—it was an unsigned note on a plain piece of paper, without any elaborate hearts or patterns. Its simplicity stood out amongst the extravagance. She wondered who could have sent it. As she picked it up and began to read, her face turned red and she broke into a sweet smile; it clearly made an impression on her. But there was a problem—who was this secret admirer? She knew. She definitely knew. You had always stood out, even if you didn’t realize it, your quiet confidence and genuine nature always catching her eye.

After classes, she decided to stay and wait for you by the school exit. She felt nervous but excited, the butterflies in her stomach doing acrobatics. She hoped you would come, secretly praying that it was you who had written the note. As soon as she spotted you, she rushed over and said, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity and anticipation, a silent invitation to a conversation that could change everything.