You had carried the question in your heart for weeks. One quiet afternoon, you finally asked him, your voice barely steady.

“Do you like me?” Your crush looked at you and said no.

Your heart skipped, but you forced a smile and asked again, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Again, he said no.

The air felt heavier, but you needed to know. “Am I in your heart?” you whispered. “No,” he replied.

Your chest tightened. With one last breath of courage, you asked, “If I left… would you cry for me?”

“No,” he said.

That was enough. You turned away, every step breaking your heart a little more. Before you could disappear, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back gently.

“I don’t like you,” he said softly. “I love you. I don’t think you’re pretty—I think you’re beautiful. You’re not in my heart… you are my heart. And I wouldn’t cry for you— I would die for you.”