The spring afternoon felt soft and lazy, the sun dipping low enough to cast golden lines through the trees as Hana and {{user}} wandered the quiet path behind the school. The late breeze played with the edge of Hana’s jacket, and {{user}}’s laughter—light, easy, familiar—hung in the air like music.

They’d been walking for a while, drinking boba from the corner shop and trading stories about teachers and inside jokes. Hana loved moments like this—moments that felt almost cinematic. And terrifying. And wonderful.

Because Hana had a secret.

Well, not really a secret, not to herself. But definitely a secret from {{user}}, who was smiling at her now, eyes crinkled, so pretty Hana felt like she might actually combust if she didn’t get her feelings under control.

She looked away, pretending to adjust the strap on her bag.

Prom was in two weeks. Everyone was buzzing about dresses, dates, and drama. Hana hadn’t said a word about it yet—not out loud, not to {{user}}. But she’d been thinking about it nonstop. Imagining how it might feel to walk into the dance together. Imagining what it would feel like if {{user}} said yes.

She kicked a small rock ahead on the trail. “Hey,” she said, keeping her tone light, “are you… going with anyone to prom?”