Chapter 1: Lie to me all you please, I can see right through
Chapter Text
Sophia Laforteza needed cash.
Not the kind you use to buy snacks after school or bribe your way out of a group project—real money.
The kind you quietly stack up in a folder under your bed, labeled “Freedom Fund.”
The kind that gets you out of a nowhere town and into a quiet apartment where no one knows your name, with a workspace of your own, and maybe—maybe—a path to grad school.
Sophia doesn’t actually have financial problems. She came from a well-off family.
You know, the type to go on vacation every holiday and summer. Always in a different country when they feel like they want to see a different view.
They may have a penthouse somewhere in the city or a house and some relatives in LA.
The typical, wealthy family household.
But recently, her family has been cutting her allowance. They think Sophia’s a spoiled kid who needs to be taught a lesson about spending too much money.
Sophia wasn’t like that. She barely rode a bus, and she always rode her bike to school.
But what was the point of trying to defend herself? They already cut her allowance.
And Sophia has too many dreams for herself to become broke at a young age.
And right now, she’s broke and stressed.
“I need a job,” she muttered, staring at her phone as if it might magically Venmo her a thousand dollars out of sympathy.
She kept opening and closing apps as if that would work, like when you open the fridge over and over, thinking that it would have something different inside each time.
“You need to stop buying fancy sketchbooks off that one art site… and stop buying wax stamps and wax, you don’t even write to anyone.” Megan Skiendiel replied, sprawled across Sophia’s bed and chewing on a candy cane even though it was nowhere near December.
“Girl, you’re not starving. You’re just bougie.” She added, cracking the candy cane in half with her teeth.
“I’m not bougie. I’m ambitious,” Sophia said.
Sitting on the floor beside the bed with her knees pulled to her chest, Manon Bannerman laughed, “There are, like, six diners in town. Just work there.”
Manon and Megan have always been Sophia’s friends. They were her ride or die—the ones who always had her back.
And also maybe the ones that always get her in trouble…
Sophia made a face like she’d just been asked to eat gravel. “I am not working at a diner. Those places are filled with old men who think ‘you’d look prettier if you smiled’ is a compliment. I’d get in a fight within the first shift.”
“She’s right,” Megan said, snapping her fingers. “I would bail her out of jail once, maybe twice. But three times? I don’t love you enough for that, Soph.”
Manon scoffs, “You’re being dramatic. I doubt Sophia would go to jail.”
Sophia huffs, “I’m just saying." She flops beside Megan on her back before staring at the ceiling. “There has to be a better way. Something lowkey. Something I can do even in class.”
Manon rests her head against Sophia’s bed, “Well, too bad. We don’t know any jobs like that around here.”
Later that same day, when Megan and Manon finally went home, Megan facetimed Manon.
She propped her phone up on her table and wall as she paced around with the urgency of someone plotting a war—or worse, a group project.
“We need to help her,” she suddenly said. Manon blinked through the screen, adjusting her hoodie.
“Help her how?”
Megan’s eyes lit up.
Manon is very much familiar with that expression. It’s the expression she does when she’s up to no good.
Which is, unfortunately, most of the time…
“I have a great idea.” And there it was—the magic words.
Manon groans, “No.” She immediately shuts it down, “Absolutely not. We are not going to do any of your ideas.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“I don’t need to! Because every time you say you have a great idea, we always end up doing community service or issuing an apology statement.”
Megan goes silent for a bit. Unsure how to defend herself against that, but she shrugs it off easily.
“But this time,” her eyes were almost sparkling with mischief. She was already grabbing a few things from her desk.
Manon could recognize it as Megan’s favorite set of colored markers, “Believe me, it’s actually smart!”
“Megan—“
Megan was already scribbling something on a bond paper, tongue sticking out, “What if we make Sophia something… a business!”
She almost sang her words, switching between different-colored markers as she wrote something down.
“No. No. Nope. Leave me out of this!”
But of course, despite Manon’s protests, Megan and Sophia are still her friends.
And she has no escape.
—
When Sophia finally goes to school at exactly 6 AM, both Megan and Manon are already there.
That should have been a telling sign for Sophia.
Manon doesn’t go to school early, so Megan’s early arrival could be… normal, but the huge shit-eating grin she has on her lips says otherwise.
“Why are you guys here so early?” Sophia chained her bike on the side of the school building while eyeing the two girls.
“We have something for you!” Megan’s eyes lit up, looking excited.
Manon yawns, “ She has something for you,” she corrected while pointing her thumb at Megan.
Sophia was already suspicious.
But Megan didn’t give her time to process before she pulled her inside to the school lockers.
The hallways were still empty, but the janitor would pass them by, holding up a mop. They’d see the teachers who came in early walking past them.
They walked further down the hall to the last locker at the end. Locker 210.
It was Sophia’s old locker, and for some reason, there were many unoccupied lockers that year. One of them was locker 210, which Sophia so happens to still know the code to.
This time, however, there was a bond paper stuck to it.
And written with different colored pens are the words: “Too lazy to do your essay? 5 dollars per page. Leave it in this locker.”
No initials or anything. Just Megan’s poorly made sign for a business.
Sophia stared at it like it was a scam ad that had appeared on her computer screen while she was trying to access an illegal site.
“...What the fuck?” she mumbles under her breath.
“Do you like it?” Megan asks, smiling from ear to ear, looking very proud of herself.
Manon was already massaging her head from the incoming headache that she’d receive from the chaotic outcome of this plan.
Was this even a plan? It felt more like a scheme.
“I…What the fuck is this exactly?”
Megan huffs, “It’s your business, stupid. You said you needed money! So, there! Do people’s homework, and you get cash. Easy!”
Megan looked very pleased with herself while Sophia pushed her lips together into a thin line, brows furrowing, “Yeah… I don’t think this will work.”
“See? That’s what I said!” Manon chimes in, arms up, looking at Megan like she is ridiculous. “Even Sophia thinks it won’t work!”
“Oh, it will!” Megan slammed her hand on the locker, wincing a little before turning back to look at Sophia and Manon, “Do you know how many stupid fuckers go to this school? Half of this campus is dumb!”
“You’re right, and apparently, you’re part of that population.” Manon deadpans, arms crossed.
“Shut up—” Megan glances at her for a second before turning her gaze back to Sophia, “Think about it! You’re smart! And you’re good with words! If a few people try and they get a high score on one of their papers, they’re going to spread the word!”
Sophia eyes her suspiciously before diverting her gaze towards Manon. “And if this doesn’t work?”
Manon shrugged. Megan held Sophia’s shoulders, staring right into her eyes, “Look. You won’t lose anything if it doesn’t work. If it works, then easy money! Win-win.”
Sophia leans back, blinking, “It’s not really a win-win situation if I don’t get money.”
Megan groans, “Just trust me!”
And trust she did.
Because at the end of the day, when most students are out, they return to locker 210.
Sophia let out a sigh as Megan waited for her to open the locker with a huge grin.
And when she finally opened the locker, she choked on her own breath.
Inside were six crumpled bills. Three lined sheets filled with messy handwriting. One packet of gum, and at least five assignments.
Megan leaned against the lockers with the world’s biggest smirk, looking like she had just won a championship. “What did I tell you?” she said sweetly, “If you don’t want to work at a diner, then you won’t have to work at a diner!”
Sophia stared at the cash, at the papers, and then at Megan, still in disbelief.
“...This is illegal.”
“Only if you get caught.”
From behind them, Manon walked by, adjusting her bag and then stopping for a second to look, “Well, damn. I guess it worked?”
—
The next morning, Sophia sat cross-legged on her bed with a growing pile of notebook paper and crumpled bills in front of her, a pencil tucked behind her ear, and a migraine already forming.
“These fuckers,” she said flatly, flipping through the pages. “These are jocks, the slackers, and the lazy asses who sleep through class and copy from the smart girl sitting next to them. Why should I do their homework?”
“Because,” Megan said, sipping orange juice that she definitely didn’t steal from Sophia’s kitchen, with the smugness of someone who’s done nothing but claim executive producer credit, “you need money.”
Manon looked up from scrolling through her phone, completely unbothered. “Is this legal?”
“Psshh, of course!” Megan chirped, hesitated for a second, “...Well, obviously not. But we’re not forcing them to give Sophia money! They’re submitting requests voluntarily. This is the free market. Just think of it as… like the slime business that kids have back in elementary or something.”
“This is academic fraud,” Sophia muttered while holding up a slightly crumpled sheet of paper with a hand-scrawled “PLS HELP ME WITH THIS ESSAY ON MACBETH” written with a dying pen.
“Easy money,” Megan corrected, flopping onto the bed, the papers scattered a bit. “Come on, Soph. These people are desperate and dumb! And willing to give a few dollars to get their papers done. You’re smart and broke. It’s a perfect match!”
Sophia narrowed her eyes at the request in front of her. “This one literally just says ‘talk about Macbeth’s vibes.’”
Manon snorted, “Well then, give that person a paper vibe checking Macbeth.”
Sophia groaned, letting the paper fall on her lap, “God. These people are giving me a headache.”
Megan threw a pillow at her. “And I’m giving you financial security. Get to work.”
Sophia rolls her eyes, “...ugh. I guess.”
And just like that, Sophia’s ghostwriting business takes off.
It went like that for months.
Locker 210 became the worst-kept secret in their tiny school. The “Essay Fairy,” as people started calling her, accepted all sorts of requests.
Math assignments (Sophia didn’t do those; she had Megan and Manon work on them). Poems, apology letters to girlfriends, cover letters for summer jobs, you name it.
Sophia honestly thought it would die down after a week, and she’d go back to being broke. But it didn’t. In fact, it thrived.
So many people were sending in requests, especially every Friday. Locker 210 would be flooded with requests that Sophia would be able to do in under 5 hours. She was just that good.
It came to a point where Megan and Manon had to create a burner Gmail account to send to the school's students, announcing rules and requesting to keep the business a secret as they took down the sign on locker 210.
Every morning, Sophia checked her locker like she was clocking into work. Every afternoon, she scribbled responses at the back of the library or in the corner booth of a local cafe. Manon was in charge of telling the students through the Gmail account that their request was done and had been submitted.
And every evening, Megan pestered her for a cut of the profits “because I started your career.”
Sophia actually didn’t care if Megan got a cut. She gives both Manon and Megan 15 dollars weekly because they help her anyway. And she was getting more money than she even expected.
To most people, Sophia was just the quiet, smart girl in the third row who wore headphones and minded her business.
To a select few desperate degenerates, she was the ghostwriter of dreams.
Except they don’t know it’s her because no one knows who runs locker 210, and honestly, no one’s really that curious, as long as they get their requests done.
This became Sophia’s life.
She’s always completing requests; it isn’t a problem for her. She loved to write. She would never admit it and tell Megan, but she’s grateful for her stupid plan.
She has finished many requests.
She accepted even the weirdest ones without question or protest because some of the students paid her extra.
Would often leave more than 5 dollars for a single-paged request. And honestly? Sophia liked that.
But she never expected this kind of request.
One Thursday morning, she opened the locker and pulled out a folded note. Neat handwriting. No money attached—just words.
“Hey, this is Sophia Laforteza, right? I need help making a letter for Daniela Avanzini.”
Sophia held the paper and stared at it for a long, long time.
“...Oh.”
—
Daniela Avanzini.
Everyone loved her.
Why wouldn’t they? She was pretty, polite, and popular. The kind of girl who always had a soft smile, said thank you to the lunch lady like clockwork, and somehow looked flawless in gym shorts and a messy bun.
She was everything people liked to talk about, and nothing they actually took the time to understand.
Sure, she was smart—but who cared about that?
She was already pretty. That was enough.
In the eyes of their tiny town and their tinier school, being beautiful was her beginning and her end.
People called her things like: Queen bee, the dream girl, and some called her the future Miss Universe.
…like she was a painting they could all agree was nice to look at, but would never stick around to talk about the meaning and its value.
And that’s how they treated her—like a pretty painting—something to hang on a wall and talk about how it looked good without ever paying attention to the details and actual meaning of it.
She was like a trophy people fought over, a reward people tried to win over and own.
No one really knows her real personality because she can never be more than that pretty girl that boys talk about and girls get jealous of.
They never asked what books she liked, why she stared out the window so much, or if she was happy.
But Lara Rajagopalan and Jeung Yoonchae did.
She still remembered the day they met—when Daniela tried too hard to be soft, sweet, and put together, and both just looked at her like huh.
And then Lara said, “You’re trying too hard,” and Yoonchae added, “Yeah. And you kind of suck at lying. Let loose.”
And Daniela laughed. Like really laughed.
From that day on, they were hers.
The only ones who saw past the soft voice and polite nods. The only ones who weren’t afraid of the weird, dramatic, loud girl underneath all the polish.
The only ones who didn’t care about her popularity—just her.
Daniela liked books more than people.
She liked writing letters to no one in particular and loved to write more about random things that she found intriguing. She also liked standing in front of paintings for too long because sometimes they made her cry, and she didn’t know why.
She liked overanalyzing movies with hidden meanings and symbolism in them, like her life depended on it.
She was poetic in a way.
But that wasn’t the version of her anyone saw.
Instead, they saw the girl with blonde hair and sleek, straight hair—the girl who laughed at the right moments and smiled just enough.
People didn’t see the girl who used to stare at herself in the mirror and hate the brown curls that never listened—the girl who Googled “how to look more American” at age 12.
She was Cuban-Venezuelan, but that wasn’t what people wanted from her.
They wanted the cheerleader look—the Malibu Barbie type—the nice Latina girl who fit in with the rest of the blonde populars and didn’t take up too much space.
So she dyed her hair. Straightened it. Smiled more. Spoke less.
But Lara and Yoonchae never cared about her hair.
Yoonchae once said, “You should go curly again. You look like a storm when you do. In a good way.”
With them, she didn’t have to be perfect.
She just had to be Daniela.
But the thing about being someone’s dream girl is…
You start to wonder if anyone would still love you when you’re awake.
And lately? She’s been thinking about that more than she should.
—
The note sat in Sophia’s hand for a long time before she moved.
It was just a few words: no money, deadline, or other instructions.
“Hey, this is Sophia Laforteza, right? I need help making a letter for Daniela Avanzini.”
That was it.
Sophia didn’t even know if she should be scared that this person knew who she was or if she’d be more angry that this person had the guts to send in a request without money.
She’d received letters like these before, with names and all.
“ Make this sound romantic, it’s for Julia.” or “Say something poetic, her name’s Bea.”
But Daniela Avanzini?
Come on.
Sophia stared blankly at the message.
That girl had— what , a hundred suitors? Boys stumbling over themselves in the hallways, girls trailing after her like she was some celestial being.
And this random guy—whoever he was—wanted Sophia to write a letter for her? A single love letter that would make Daniela Avanzini fall in love?
“Hilarious,” she muttered.
He has to try harder than that.
But even as she scoffed, she folded the paper and slipped it into her bag.
She’s not going to write it. Maybe she’ll throw the paper in the trash later. He didn’t even bother to leave money.
That’s not Sophia’s problem.
But that night, as she finished the last few requests, she saw the paper in her bag. Crumpled up and looking pathetic.
She stares at it as if it were asking her for mercy, like it was begging for her to take it and open it, maybe even begging her to keep it.
Opening her notebook that night, she huffs and stares at a blank page. Then opened a second notebook. And a third.
She can’t keep ignoring it, so…she caves.
She takes the paper out of her bag aggressively.
Sophia stares at it, and she thinks of what she can write about.
“What do you even want me to write?” she muttered, flipping the request back over. There was no detail. No vibe. No “make it sweet” or “make it dramatic.”
Just… a name of someone she doesn’t know well.
Daniela Avanzini.
She sighed, tapped her pen twice against the page, and let her thoughts wander.
Daniela.
The girl who floated down the hallways like she was in a movie.
The one everyone watched, talked about, wanted to have, and wanted to be.
Always smiling. Always polite. Always perfect.
Sophia had seen her a hundred times—maybe even more than that. Laughing with her friends. Tucking her hair behind her ear. Turning down confessions with soft eyes and careful kindness.
She was the kind of girl who made people believe in love, just by existing.
But she was too perfect. Too composed.
Too…untouchable.
Sophia remembered seeing her once outside the cafeteria, surrounded by boys. One of them leaned too close and said something with the wrong kind of smile. Daniela just giggled, ducked her head, and walked away like it was nothing.
Sophia remembered thinking, "Is she used to that? Does she just laugh it off now?”
Then she remembered the way Daniela’s fingers curled around her bag strap and how her smile faltered for half a second—just enough for Sophia to catch.
There’s no way she’s that perfect , Sophia thought now, staring at her blank page.
Sophia wasn’t being a creep or anything. She just noticed a lot of things, especially with random students in their small school.
Daniela was just… unnaturally nice? There was no way she was always like that. Brushing every inappropriate comment off as if it were a compliment. She can’t always be smiling like that.
There had to be something underneath the giggles. The nods. The nice-girl act.
The thought made her pause.
Maybe…maybe that’s what the letter should be about.
Not how beautiful Daniela Avanzini was. But how much people missed when they only saw that.
By midnight, Sophia had filled three pages.
And she hadn’t even started lying yet.
The first letter was three pages long.
It wasn’t bad, by any means. Sophia had written about the way Daniela tucked her hair behind her ear before she spoke. About the way her laugh sounded different depending on who she was with.
About the fact that she never ate her lunch all at once—always saved the best bite for last.
It was good. Honest. Observant.
But Sophia started at it for exactly three seconds before ripping the pages in half.
She wasn’t satisfied for some reason.
“I can do better than that.”
The second letter was four pages long. She added metaphors. A little poetry. Phrasing that made her cringe and then immediately rewrite because it wasn’t the right kind of vulnerability.
She stayed up until 2 AM.
Then tossed that one, too.
The third letter didn’t even make it past the first paragraph.
Because somewhere between “you smile like the sun doesn’t dare interrupt” and "I think you know you’re lonely,” Sophia realized something horrifying.
She wasn’t writing as a favor anymore. She was writing because her traitorous little mind couldn’t stop wondering. Couldn’t stop rewinding memories of Daniela from the past, where Sophia would notice something different.
Where Sophia would notice a tiny crack.
She couldn’t stop herself from spiraling, fueled by curiosity alone.
Megan noticed the spiral immediately the next day in school.
“Dude,” she said, watching Sophia scribble at the lunch table for the fourth day in a row, “Are you okay? You’re writing like you’re possessed.”
“I’m fine.” Sophia’s response is followed by the soft scribbling sound from her pen.
Megan raised an eyebrow at her, and Manon, who was beside Megan, leaned over the table—trying to catch a glimpse of what Sophia was writing.
“Is this for a grade?” Manon asks when she fails to see what the content was.
“No.”
Manon and Megan share a look before glancing back at Sophia. “Is this one of your essay clients?” Megan tries again.
“No.”
Manon clears her throat, “...Soooo who are you writing for?”
Sophia didn’t even look up. “Shut up.”
Megan narrowed her eyes. “You look… so focused and serious. Is this a crush thing? Am I watching a crush thing happen in real time?”
“Goodbye,” Sophia muttered, snapping her notebook shut and walking away.
Both Manon and Megan watched as Sophia walked away.
“You think she has a crush?” Megan asks, tapping Manon’s arm in the process.
“I…doubt? She hasn’t had a crush in years. I don’t even remember who she last had a crush on.”
Megan hums, “Then…the crush theory is off the table?”
Manon shrugs, “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“What do you think?” Megan throws the question back to Manon.
The older girl scratches her head. “Maybe… It’s a crush thing…?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
At home, Sophia opened a fresh page.
She wrote about how sometimes Daniela looked tired even when she smiled. She wrote about how her voice got lower when she was talking about something she was interested in, or just something she’s passionate about.
She wrote about how people probably told her she was pretty before they ever told her she was interesting.
Sophia’s handwriting got slower as the night dragged on. Every line felt more personal. More dangerous.
Like a secret she wasn’t supposed to say out loud.
“I don’t know what you love more–
Art or the idea of being someone no one can misunderstand.”
Sophia stared at it. Reread it three times.
Then folded the letter and tucked it into a plain white envelope.
She didn’t sign it. She didn’t need to.
—
Locker 210 creaked open like it always did.
Sophia had memorized the rhythm by now—turn the dial right, left, right again, and pull.
Inside were the usual offerings: crumpled bills, messy handwriting, barely legible assignments begging for mercy.
She started sorting them by subject without looking. Science. History. That one guy who always tried to bribe her with candy instead of cash. Typical.
It always ends up in the trash. She keeps the candy, though. She gives it to Manon and Megan.
Then her fingers brushed against something heavier.
A single folded piece of paper, secured with a twenty-dollar bill.
Sophia frowned.
She unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning the neat handwriting.
“Hey, sorry for assuming your identity. I just figured it would be Sophia since she’s always good at writing,”
Sophia blinked.
“I’m the one who requested about Daniela. I forgot to give money out of panic. I hope this is okay?”
There was a pause in the note. A little space, like the writer hesitated.
“And I don’t need to know if she sends a letter back. I’d just want to let her know that I like her.”
Sophia stared at the page.
And for the first time since this whole thing started, she didn’t know what to feel.
She sat down on the nearest bench, the note trembling just slightly between her fingers. Twenty bucks. No return address. No expectations.
Just… a boy with a crush.
He didn’t want a fantasy, didn’t want a perfect reply. He just wanted Daniela to know.
And he had chosen Sophia to say it for him. Like he trusted her despite not knowing her.
She read it again.
“...since she’s always good at writing.”
It hit harder than she thought it would.
Later that night, when she opened her notebook again, her words felt different. Softer. Less like an assignment, more like a responsibility.
Not because she owed the boy anything.
Well… she did owe the boy something. With 20 bucks and a simple request? She owed him an award-winning love letter.
And well… also because Daniela deserved something real.
From across town, in her bedroom full of fairy lights and borrowed books, Daniela Avanzini had no idea a letter was coming.
And Sophia Laforteza didn’t know yet just how much of herself she’d accidentally put in it.
Sophia used a tiny bit from that 20 bucks and bought new envelopes. She went and transferred the letter to a light blue envelope. She goes the extra mile and wax seals it.
—
When Daniela found the letter, it fell out of her locker like a secret.
Daniela blinked as the envelope fluttered to the floor, landing softly near her shoes. She bent down to pick it up, confused at first.
No name. No label. Just a pale blue envelope—thicker, fancier than any school paper—with a wax seal pressed gently shut.
It smelled faintly of lavender and something else.
Something warm and hard to describe.
Like old books and soft hands and a safe place to land.
Lara, leaning against the locker beside hers, noticed the way Daniela paused. “What’s that?”
“I… don’t know,” Daniela said slowly. She turned the envelope over in her hands, like maybe a name would appear if she stared long enough.
No such luck.
Yoonchae peeked over her shoulder. “Did someone give you a letter?”
“I guess?” Daniela replied, still dazed. “It was sitting in my locker. I didn’t see who left it.”
Lara raised an eyebrow, “Secret admirer? They still send out letters like that?”
Yoonchae smirked, “It’s giving ‘soulmate letter from a parallel universe.’”
Daniela let out a shaky laugh. “I’ll read it later. I think…”
She didn’t open it during lunch. Didn’t open it in the hallway. Didn’t open it even when Lara offered to hold her books and read it dramatically out loud.
Instead, she tucked it carefully into her bag, like it was fragile. Like it was made of glass.
She read it after school.
In a quiet corner of the library, where sunlight spilled across the carpet and no one ever really went except her.
She sat by the window, unfolded the letter, and began to read.
And as her eyes moved across the page, line by line, something inside her shifted.
It wasn’t a confession, no, not really. At least that’s what she thinks.
Because it was something gentler. Sharper. Slower. The letter didn’t talk about how pretty she was.
They talked about the way she lingered and stared at art for too long. The way her voice changed when she got passionate. The way people saw her, and how none of them saw deep enough.
It was careful. Thoughtful. Almost even curious.
The words on the page blurred a little.
Not because of the ink, or the sunlight streaming through the window, but because Daniela Avanzini didn’t know how to keep her breathing even anymore.
“Did you know you look funny when you pretend like you’re comfortable? You laugh and smile, it’s forced and hilarious.
I wonder how you developed such a reaction.”
She swallowed hard.
Pressed her fingertips against the line like it might disappear if she blinked too long.
That laugh—it wasn’t something people were supposed to notice. It was a reflex. A shield. A learned tic from years of being nice and palatable. No one had ever dared call it funny.
Because people thought it was real. People thought it was genuine.
She thought about the time in science class, just last week, when a boy leaned in too close, joked about her lips, and she laughed like she was being complimented.
She wondered if this letter was written after that moment.
Her hands trembled slightly as she kept reading.
“You often look like you long for something from afar. Freedom, maybe? Or someone? Someone you want to listen to you and decipher you like a riddle?
It’s interesting. Intriguing.
I wonder how many people say you’re interesting before they tell you how pretty you are.”
Something in her chest cracked open.
How could someone put that into words?
She’d been asked out more times than she could count. She’d been told she was beautiful, hot, stunning, breathtaking.
She’d smile through compliments that never really touched her.
But no one had ever wondered if she longed for something. No one had ever wondered anything at all.
“I don’t know what you love more–
Art or the idea of being someone no one can misunderstand.”
Daniela’s breath got caught in her throat.
Whoever had written this felt like they knew her. They knew which parts of her she was faking. They saw through her facade and act.
Daniela sat in the empty library, the quiet pressing in like a secret. And for the first time in a long time, she felt seen. Not looked at. Not admired. Seen.
The letter rested on her lap now. Her hands curled around the edges.
She wanted to reread it. She wanted to cry about it. She wanted to find the person who had written this and ask them, “How did you know?”
But for now, she didn’t move.
She didn’t speak and just sat there. Holding the lavender scented envelope, the paper, and the closest thing she’d ever received to a mirror.
—
Daniela still hadn’t folded the letter.
It stayed open and a little crinkled in her bag, like a live wire buzzing softly next to her books.
She’d read it more than she could even remember. She was obsessed with each word written in it; she wanted it tattooed in her brain.
She met Lara and Yoonchae at their usual spot under the tree the next day during lunch—sunlight filtering through branches, soft grass under their elbows, and Yoonchae’s hello kitty bento box already half-finished.
“You good?” Lara asked first, squinting at her like she could see emotions through her sunglasses.
Daniela didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled out the pale blue envelope like it was a classified file.
“I read the letter that fell from my locker,” she said simply.
Yoonchae blinked, “Do you already know who it’s from?”
“No. I still have no idea.” Daniela handed it over. “Just read it.”
Lara took the letter first, and Yoonchae leaned in, chewing more slowly as she read over her shoulder.
Their reactions were slow but evident. Their faces went from confusion to intrigue to stunned silence.
No jokes, no teasing. Just a very serious kind of stillness as they finished reading.
“Holy shit,” Lara whispered. To say she was in awe was an understatement. If her jaw could drop lower than the floor, it would.
Yoonchae slowly looked back up at Daniela. She was at a loss for words. “You should definitely write them a letter back.”
“How? There’s no name in it. No way to contact them. I would if I knew where I could send it to.”
The Korean girl hums, leaning back, “Maybe you could leave it in that 210 locker?”
Daniela was confused, “What?”
Lara perked up like she’d just remembered her favorite urban legend. “Locker 210! It’s like… a thing.”
“What kind of thing?” Daniela had a slight frown on.
Lara grinned, “You know—locker 210? You leave your essay requests, cash, sometimes even love letters or revenge homework. And boom! Someone writes it for you. Five dollars per page. Everyone uses it. It’s been going on for months.”
Daniela’s frown deepened, “Have any of you tried it?”
Yoonchae was quick to shake her head, “No.”
Lara shrugged, “No, but one of my friends did. They got a high grade.”
“That sounds… sketchy,” Daniela mumbled, unsure.
“Well, you’re right. It is. But like, no one cares. They’re good at what they do. No one knows who runs it, but they’ve saved, like, half the football team from flunking.” Yoonchae said before she continued eating.
“There was even a rumor that it’s a group of seniors working together. Or a ghost. Or a genius with no social life.” Lara said with amusement.
She seems to be very interested in the locker 210 business… or story… or whatever it was.
Daniela looked down at the letter again, the ink now slightly smudged from her fingertips.
It would make sense.
But then again, what will they be able to do with Daniela’s letter? Paraphrase it?
“But what does that have to do with my letter? I’m trying to find the one who wrote to me, not ask a person to ghostwrite my letter.”
“Girl, that’s not what we meant. Who knows? Maybe locker 210 is also good at finding people.” Lara said with a small smile on her lips.
Daniela finally sat down in front of them, and Yoonchae nudged her, “You know what I’m thinking?”
“You’re gonna write back.” Lara continued Yoonchae’s sentence.
Both their smiles grew wider as if they were teasing Daniela.
“I don’t even know what to say…” she fiddled with the letter, running her index finger against the sides over and over.
“Base it off of the letter. Respond to what they said!” Yoonchae confidently said.
Lara nodded, “And put it in that locker.”
Daniela sighed, but her lips twitched like she might smile.
“Fine. I’ll write a letter.”
—
By 10 PM, Daniela’s desk looked like it had been hit by a storm of poetry and poor decisions.
Not that writing a reply to her secret admirer is considered a poor decision.
Crumpled papers overflowed from her trash bin. Torn-out notebook pages sat scattered like fallen soldiers. Her gel pen was leaking… She doesn’t know how she broke it.
And her favorite scented candle had long burned out.
She lies back on her bed dramatically, huffing as her back hits her mattress.
“This is stupid,” she whispered to herself and stared at the ceiling for a while.
She doesn’t know why she was stressing over this. She just had to come up with a response. A proper one.
She doesn’t even have to make it formal.
Or perfect.
She sat back up five minutes later.
Because every time she closed her eyes, the letter came back to her. The way it smelled. The clean, careful handwriting.
The way it saw her. Beyond the polished smile, the forced laugh, the school hallway performances.
Her fingers hovered over the page again.
Dear… you?
No, that was awful. Trash.
To the person who left me speechless—
Too cringe. Trash.
Hi. I don’t know who you are, but I think you might know me better than anyone else has.
She stared at the line. Her eyes lingered as if reading it over and over.
Okay. That could stay.
She tried her best not to anxiously chew on her pen cap as she reread the first letter again for the seventh time, and tried to match the tone it had.
Witty, thoughtful, curious. A little sharp, but never cruel.
Almost like it was trying to sound mean and disrespectful, but it would step back and throw her an indirect compliment.
Like they were someone who observed the world a little too closely for comfort.
And so Daniela wrote.
She wrote about how weird it felt to be truly seen.
About how no one ever asked if she liked being popular—like it was just something handed to her and she had to be grateful.
She wrote about pretending to be comfortable. About how being polite was easier than saying stop that , or don’t talk to me like that.
She talked about her favorite book she kept hidden in her locker. The way she liked drawing tiny things in the margins of her notebooks.
Her favorite childhood memory of dancing barefoot in her grandmother’s backyard in Havana.
She didn’t write her name.
She didn’t ask who they were.
She ended it simply with:
“And you asked me what it was I’m longing for.
I think I still am longing for something.
I’m unsure, though. Of which one I want. But maybe now, it won’t hurt to say I’m longing to know who you are.”
It was 2:14 AM when she finally sealed the envelope.
No wax seal. Just her initials, DA, written on the back.
She did spray a little bit of lavender perfume she found lying around.
She stared at it.
Then, without another word, she placed it carefully in her backpack, lay down on her bed, and let her curls spill all over the pillow.
Sleep found her easily after that.
—
The hallway was quiet.
Morning sun slicing through the windows of the hallways. Most students hadn't arrived yet.
Sophia, Megan, and Manon walked toward locker 210 like they always did—casually, unbothered, mostly hidden in the early lull before homeroom.
Sophia stopped dead in her tracks.
Her eyes locked on the envelope sticking out slightly from the locker slot like a sore thumb. It was white, no cash, no sticky note, just… elegant. Deliberate. Personal.
Her breath hitched.
She doesn’t know what it is, but she feels nervous. Like it was a trap.
Manon glanced over. “What’s that? A request?”
Megan leaned forward and snorted. “Bruh. That’s no request. That’s a love letter.”
Sophia physically recoiled. As if the letter were dangerous. “God. This isn’t a letter submission bin. I’m not Cupid.”
“Well, you might as well be since a ton of people ask you to make them letters. Most of them are together now.” Manon playfully placed her head on Sophia’s shoulder.
Sophia snatched the envelope and eyed the back.
There were only two neat letters.
DA.
She blinked. Who the hell…?
“DA?” Manon echoed. “Who’s that?”
“Da Ants.” Megan said with a stupid grin and a laugh threatening to escape her mouth.
Manon smacked her arm. “You’re so fucking stupid.”
Sophia didn’t laugh. She was too lost in her own thoughts. Too busy trying to think of a person with a DA in their name.
Her eyes stayed glued to the letters.
DA…
It couldn’t be… no. No way.
DA…
Daniela.
Daniela fucking Avanzini.
Sophia’s brain did a backflip, she felt her stomach drop, and her fingers went clammy.
She almost lost her grip on the letter.
Megan and Manon were already watching her with narrowed eyes.
“Soph?” Megan asked, tilting her head a bit. “You good?”
Sophia murmured, almost like a curse under her breath.
“…oh fuck.”
Sophia’s heart was hammering so loud she thought it might burst out of her throat. Still, she managed to keep her voice as nonchalant as possible.
She cleared her throat. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, shoving the envelope into her bag like it had personally threatened her. “They probably put it here by mistake.”
Manon blinked. “In the infamous locker 210? That people pay money to use? Totally a mistake.”
Sophia ignored her and speed-walked down the hall.
Sophia didn’t open the letter until hours later. She couldn’t bring herself to read it in class or even at lunch.
But she finally did when she got to the library.
She was tucked away in her quiet little corner in the school library, in one of those back tables no one used except her. That was her spot.
Her bag was on her lap. She kept checking over her shoulder like she was about to break school rules or smuggle a test answer sheet.
Her hands trembled as she peeled open the envelope. She doesn’t even know why she was trembling.
Lavender again. The scent.
As if Daniela had copied her.
Of course.
She unfolded the neatly penned note and scanned the handwriting. It was smooth, careful, and almost… hesitant.
Sophia could see how much she carefully wrote her letter. Like Daniela wanted to say a lot more… but she was holding off first.
Daniela had definitely written this five times. Maybe ten. Maybe even more.
The last few parts were what Sophia focused on.
“I don’t usually write letters to anyone. I just do it for myself. But something about yours made me want to try.
You said I laugh like I’m pretending to be comfortable. You’re not wrong.
It’s the easiest way to keep people from digging too deep. Keep things light. Float through it. Smile.
No one’s ever noticed that before.
You said I look like I’m longing for something from afar. That was a funny line. I laughed.
But you’re right again.
And you asked me what it was I’m longing for.
I think I still am longing for something.
I’m unsure, though. Of which one I want. But maybe now, it won’t hurt to say I’m longing to know who you are.”
Sophia had to stop reading for a second. So she just sat there, stunned. Blinking at the paper like it had personally reached into her soul and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
What the fuck was she supposed to do now?
Why the hell had Daniela put this in locker 210?
Did she think Sophia was, like, a messenger pigeon for secret admirers now? Even she doesn’t know who Daniela’s secret admirer is!
Was this a test? A setup? A trap?
But then…
Daniela’s letter sounded genuine. Like she didn’t know. Like she wrote it to reach out to the person who finally saw her for the first time.
Her eyes went back to the letter.
The rhythm of the lines. The care. The little jokes hidden between the truths. The soft confessions dressed up in simplicity.
“…she writes well,” Sophia muttered, against her will.
Then she groaned and dropped her forehead onto the table.
“What the fuck do I do now?”
—
”I did it.”
Daniela suddenly said as she set her lunch tray down and slipped into her usual seat across from Lara and Yoonchae, like she hadn’t just committed the most nerve-wracking act of her teenage life.
Lara looked up mid-bite. “Did what?”
Daniela flashed them a big smile, “I wrote back. The letter. I put it in locker 210.”
Yoonchae blinked, surprised, “You actually did it?”
Daniela tried to play it cool, shrugging as she stabbed the straw into her juice box. “It’s no big deal. I was just curious… that’s all.”
Lara leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Curious? Dani, you spent four hours writing and rewriting a two-page letter!”
Yoonchae snorted beside her. “More like six. She texted us at 2 AM with five different sign-offs.”
“I was tired, ” Daniela mumbled, refusing to look back at her friends.
Lara grinned, leaning back. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Yoonchae nudged Lara before looking at Daniela, eyes teasing. “Maybe you’ll finally get a decent boyfriend now.”
Daniela immediately rolled her eyes. “Ugh, as if. ”
Daniela has had partners before. But they were all… meh .
They liked Daniela because she was nice. She was polite and pretty. But that was the only thing they liked about her. All they did was flirt with Daniela and try to make out with her almost every day.
Fortunately, Daniela was smart enough to actually back off and break up with them.
When every other boy started acting the same as the last, Daniela didn’t entertain anyone again.
Well… until now.
The thought lingered in her chest longer than it should’ve.
Because…
“…They write beautifully,” Daniela says quietly.
Her voice had gone soft, almost awed. “Like, really poetic. Thoughtful. Not in a fake way. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was like they really did see me.”
Lara and Yoonchae went quiet for a beat.
Then Lara gave her a knowing look. “You think guys like that exist in this town?”
Daniela sighed, “I want to,” she admitted. “I mean… I want to believe that they exist here, somewhere… somehow.”
Yoonchae raised a brow. “No way. Guys like that only exist in fiction. Or if they were hugged as kids. A lot . Like. A lot, a lot .”
That made all three of them burst into a fit of laughter.
Lara tapped her chin once she recovered. “Maybe it’s some kind of nerd. You know, the kind who hides in the library and reads poetry for fun. Loves metaphors. Probably uses semicolons correctly.”
“Yeah, and the kind who texts with proper grammar, commas, and the first letter of the first word is always capitalized,” Yoonchae added, a bit too excited.
Daniela chuckled, but she couldn’t stop the flutter in her chest.
She kept thinking about the letter.
About how she felt so seen.
How someone had looked past the polished smile, the practiced laugh, her practiced gestures and behavior, just so she could keep the perfect girl act.
She glanced out the cafeteria window and wondered, not for the first time that day, if there would be a reply.
God, she hoped there would be a reply.
Even just one more letter. Or maybe two…
Or—fuck it, she wants to keep receiving letters from them. As many as they could write.
Just so she could feel that comfort through their words again.
—
The ceiling fan whirred above them as Megan lay sprawled across Sophia’s bed, one leg hanging off the edge while Manon flipped through a book she’d already read twice.
Sophia sat cross-legged on the floor, laptop open, her screen full of half-finished essays and cleaned-up Chemistry homework.
Her pen tapped rhythmically against a page before she finally sighed, shutting her notebook.
“I got a letter from Daniela,” she muttered, almost too casually.
But she felt herself wince a little when the words finally came out of her mouth.
Megan sat up so fast she almost fell. Manon’s book snapped shut. Their heads whipped toward her like she’d said she murdered someone.
Both their eyes were wide with shock.
“ WHAT?! ” Megan nearly screeched. “ DANIELA AVANZINI? ”
Sophia winced once more, throwing a pillow at her. “Shhh! Keep your voices down!”
Manon stared, eyes wide. “Wait, wait, wait. THE Daniela? Ballroom queen? Social media goddess? That Daniela?”
“Yes!” Sophia hissed. She looked like she was seconds away from going insane.
“But—not directly! You remember that one request? Someone asked me to write a love letter for her? No details, super vague? Yeah, well—I did it. Dropped it in her locker like a dumbass.”
Megan leaned in. “And?”
“And then, bam ,” Sophia flailed her hands, “there’s a response for me in locker 210.”
“DUDE,” Megan said, leaning forward, hands gripping Sophia’s shoulders. “That’s like… insane?? ”
Manon nodded; she was already on her knees. “REALLY INSANE… was that the envelope you pulled out the other day?”
Sophia slumped. “Yeah. I panicked. It said ‘DA’ on it, and I thought, Who the fuck is DA? Then it hit me. Daniela freaking Avanzini.”
Megan flopped dramatically back on the bed. “This is like a romcom. The chaotic, queer kind.”
Sophia groaned. “It’s not funny. I don’t know what to do! The guy who requested the letter specifically said he didn’t want a reply. And now I’m the one who received her reply? Maybe I was just… too good at it.”
Manon tilted her head. “What did you even write that got her to respond ?”
“I—I don’t know?! It was long! I don’t even have a copy of it! I went full Edgar Allan Poe mode on that or whatever! I was too immersed! My brain just started taking over, and my body moved on its own!”
Megan cracked up. “I knew it! I bet you wrote her some sapphic poetry shit without even realizing.”
Sophia flailed. “It wasn’t sapphic!! I just… I didn’t know what to say! The request didn’t have any details! So I just… wrote what I thought. About her. About the way she is. The weird laugh. The fake smiles. The way she walks around like she’s got everyone fooled, but she still looks sad sometimes—“
She cut herself off when she noticed how worked up she was getting, and she was rambling… saying unnecessary things that don’t actually help her case.
Manon’s eyebrows were halfway to her hairline. “Oh my god. ”
Megan slowly reached for the envelope on her desk. “Can we see her letter?”
Sophia stared at them. She hesitated, but then she handed it over like she was surrendering.
The two girls huddled around it, eyes quickly scanning every line in silence.
When they finished, they stared at her.
Sophia was about to say something when the two of them cut her off.
“WRITE BACK.” They said in unison.
Sophia had to close one of her eyes, flinching at how loud her two friends were.
“No!! This is not how this works!” She immediately shut down the suggestion.
It doesn’t even sound like a suggestion. It was a command.
Megan waved the letter dramatically. “You started this. You made her think someone out there actually sees her. You can’t just ghost her now! That’s a total asshole move!”
“Exactly! And we didn’t raise you to be an asshole! She thinks she’s talking to her mystery admirer,” Manon added, “but she’s really been talking to you this whole time. And she wants more.”
Sophia stared at the letter still clutched in Megan’s hand, her stomach knots.
“God… can’t I just tell her the truth? Or should we just look for the real secret admirer?”
The look that both Megan and Manon gave her was already a telling answer.
She sighs dramatically.
She was scared.
But she wasn’t sure what scared her more—writing back, or the fact that she actually kind of wanted to…
Sophia finds herself on her chair again that night despite finishing all the other requests.
“I’m not writing back,” Sophia declared to no one, arms crossed. She was leaning back against her chair and her head tilted upward, staring at her ceiling like it had committed a crime against her.
“I have a job. I have deadlines. I have requests waiting for me in the locker tomorrow.”
She leaned forward on her desk, organized her pens, and opened a new page.
She lasted two minutes.
Before she realized it, her pen was already in her hand, and words were spilling onto the paper like a faucet left open.
Halfway through the paragraph, she froze, staring down at the ink already drying.
“Fuck it,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “I already started it. This is going to be the last. ”
She didn’t even try to stop herself anymore. The words came fast. Loose. Biting, but laced with an affection she didn’t dare acknowledge.
“Dear Avanzini,
I don’t know what compelled you to write a letter in the same font and style as I, but I’m impressed. Not bad. Bold. Pretentious, even. But impressive.
And I also don’t know what compelled you to put the letter in locker 210, thinking that the person running it could somehow track your stupid secret admirer who couldn’t even be bothered to write a name or a return address (if that was even needed). But hey—great choice.
Because it reached them, alright.
(If you’re looking for a refund, though, tough luck. The emotional labor was free of charge.)
Anyway.
I read your letter. Multiple times. I hated that I did, and I hated how much I liked it. You’re a decent writer, which is annoying.
But more than that—you’re observant. Introspective. Kind of dramatic, but I’ll give you that. You see things in people, I think. Which is funny, because you’re always surrounded by people who only care if you’ve posted a new photo or worn a new dress.
Still—you look for more. You ask questions. You’re curious. That’s something.
Also.
Despite you probably spending three hours straightening and burning your unnaturally blonde hair every morning, I still see the curls peeking through sometimes. Especially near your ears. I’m not roasting you. Just an observation. A cute one.
(You’re welcome.)
I’m not sure why I’m writing back. Maybe it’s ego. Maybe it’s spite. Maybe I wanted to prove that your letter didn’t faze me. But now I’ve hit page two and I’ve officially embarrassed myself.
So congratulations. You’ve won.
—Whoever.”
When she finally put her pen down, it was almost 3 AM.
Sophia stared at the letter. She read it one last time, and then she was satisfied.
She looked at the envelope and then at the clock.
She groaned, slumped back in her chair, and covered her face with her hands. Her glasses almost fell off of her face.
“I’m so fucked.”
—
Maybe saying that Daniela had checked locker 210 more than she could count was a bit embarrassing.
And admitting it makes it no less.
Daniela checked locker 210 so often that week, people probably thought she was running the business.
If you ask Daniela why she was doing that, she’d probably answer with “I’m not sure, too.”
But she knows the reason, she’s just not really sure why she’d check it every day like a lunatic.
Every passing period, every break, even lunch—she lingered in front of it, casually pretending she was “just walking by,” but eyes locked onto the slot like it owed her rent.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Still nothing.
It was as if she were waiting for her gift on Christmas. Trying to catch Santa Claus only to find no gifts at the foot of the tree.
And she’s not even sure why she was checking locker 210, either. She doubts that the one who runs it would just haphazardly leave the response letter sticking out from the slot, easily accessible to people.
By Thursday, she was ready to lose hope. Maybe the letter never reached whoever it was. Maybe her handwriting was too messy. Maybe they hated it.
Or maybe locker 210’s services weren’t real, or they don’t know how to look for an anonymous admirer—because who even would if they’re anonymous??
She sighed and would even have the strongest urge to kick the locker like it was offending her in 10 different languages, one being in Spanish and one being in English.
And then—
Her heart stopped.
Because when she opened her own locker at the end of the day, nestled between her notebook and water bottle like a fucking miracle, was that familiar light blue envelope. Wax sealed to perfection. Perfect handwriting.
She almost squealed.
Almost.
But instead, she shoved it into her bag with the delicacy of a sacred relic and power-walked to the exit, eyes wide and heart thumping, all the way home.
By 8:41 PM, Daniela was under her blanket, lamp on, phone off, letter held gently in her fingers like it might crumble if she breathed too hard.
She took a deep breath.
Broke the wax seal.
Unfolded the paper.
And started reading.
“ Dear Avanzini,
I don’t know what compelled you to write a letter in the same font and style as I, but I’m impressed. Not bad. Bold. Pretentious, even. But impressive.
And I also don’t know what compelled you to put the letter in locker 210, thinking that the person running it could somehow track your stupid secret admirer who couldn’t even be bothered to write a name or a return address…”
“Oh my god, ” Daniela whispered into the dark, already smiling like a fool. “They’re insufferable.”
But she didn’t stop reading.
If anything, her eyes were moving faster now, scanning the page like it was oxygen and she’d been holding her breath all week.
“You look for more. You ask questions. You’re curious. That’s something.
Also.
Despite you probably spending three hours straightening and burning your unnaturally blonde hair every morning, I still see the curls peeking through sometimes. Especially near your ears. I’m not roasting you. Just an observation. A cute one.”
She squeaked . Actually squeaked. Kicked her feet up and buried her face in her pillow to scream silently into it.
“I hate them,” she said, still grinning. “I hate them and their stupid poetic letter-writing skills.”
She re-read it. Again. And then once more. Then clutched the paper in her arms as if it was going to disappear. She fell back on her mattress like the letter had physically knocked her out.
The words in the letter held so much.
It was more than just the way they noticed things. More than just the way they described Daniela.
She felt more from it than any compliment she had ever received.
Like whoever was writing to her was trying to break her walls down, not to torment her or use her vulnerability against her.
But to get to know her and actually see who she is.
And maybe Daniela kind of felt like she wouldn’t mind having her walls broken down.
Maybe she’d break her own walls down for them.
But that’s just a maybe.
For now.
The letter stayed on her nightstand the whole night. Unfolded. Lit up by her lamp.
And Daniela?
She couldn’t sleep.
Not because her thoughts were filled with negativity and doubt about herself.
But because her thoughts were filled with all the flowery words that she had just read. Well, they weren’t really that flowery.
It’s new. Something light. Something Daniela would love to get used to.
—
It was Friday morning, and Daniela was practically glowing. Backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, hair barely tamed into its usual straight cascade (though a few stubborn curls peeked through), and a grin so wide it made Lara blink suspiciously from across the quad.
Yoonchae was the first to notice.
“You look suspiciously happy,” she said, squinting at Daniela over her matcha latte. “Did someone die?”
Lara snorts, and Daniela let out a quiet, breathy laugh.
“No,” Daniela beamed, dropping her bag on the bench and plopping herself down between the two. She held up the letter triumphantly. “I got a reply.”
Lara’s jaw dropped. “NO. NO WAY. ”
Yoonchae nearly choked on her drink. “ Shut up. ”
“I’m serious!” Daniela said, giddy. “It was in my locker when I checked yesterday after class. Same envelope, same wax seal, same handwriting.”
“Oh my god— give it. ” Lara grabbed for the letter before Daniela could even finish, unfolding it like it was a map to buried treasure.
Yoonchae scooted closer, leaning over Lara’s shoulder.
As they read, Daniela sat back with a dreamy, crooked smile, like she already knew every line by heart and just wanted to watch them react.
“I don’t know what compelled you to write a letter in the same font and style as I, but I’m impressed. Not bad. Bold. Pretentious, even. But impressive.”
Lara snorted, adjusting in her spot, “Okay, I love the way they write. I’m obsessed with them already.”
“They’re cocky… and I can feel their confidence. I like that!” Yoonchae comments, scooting closer to read more.
“Right???” Daniela exclaims, eyes wide and smiling happily.
“Despite you probably spending three hours straightening and burning your unnaturally blonde hair every morning, I still see the curls peeking through sometimes. Especially near your ears. I’m not roasting you. Just an observation. A cute one.”
The two girls howled.
“THEY CALLED YOU CUTE???” Lara shrieked, shaking Daniela by the shoulders.
Yoonchae had her hands over her mouth, “Not just that. They noticed the curls! That’s, like, a soulmate detail.” Her eyes were wide.
Daniela tried to act calm—failed miserably—and just covered her face with both hands, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.
“I think I’m gonna die,” she groaned through her fingers.
“No,” Lara said, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “You’re gonna write back. Immediately! This is the best love story we’ve ever been a part of… if this even is a love story.”
Daniela huffs playfully, “It’s not… at least not yet?”
And the girls immediately looked at her with matching teasing grins.
“Oh, and!” Yoonchae added, already fishing for a pen in her bag, “we’re not letting you send that reply without running it by us first.”
Daniela rolled her eyes, but her heart was thumping, her hands already itching to scribble something down. “Fine. But I’m not going to go soft on them.”
Yoonchae grinned. “Oh no. You gotta flirt back . Hit them where it hurts.”
“The heart?” Lara asks, and Yoonchae snaps her fingers, pointing at Lara.
“Exactly.”
—
That night, Daniela didn’t waste any time and started writing as soon as she got ahold of her pen.
She had a smile on as she wrote.
“Dear, whoever.
Nice name.
And I apologize for copying off of your style, it’s charming and funny. God forbid a girl from getting inspired by poetic handwriting.
You’re quite cocky. I love that. You’ve already obliterated half of my suitors just by writing these letters. I don’t even know if your letters are love letters, but they seem affectionate enough. Kudos to you, I guess.
You noticed my curls. Are you some kind of stalker? Kidding. I appreciate that. I wonder if you knew that I have natural curls. Have you always known that through the details you notice about me? It’s really… touching. Sweet, even.
How do I respond to your letter and copy off of the way you compliment me when I haven’t even seen you? It makes me curious.
I wonder if I only matter to people whom I have yet to see. Do I matter that much to you? You seem like the quiet type who’s good at people watching. Makes me wonder if I’m the only one you’re watching.
I hope I am.
I don’t know why I wrote that. Maybe because I mean it.
I like the thought of being someone’s only. Not in the obsessive, creepy way. Just… in the way where someone looks at me and really sees me. The kind of seeing that feels warm even from across the room.
But I have always been someone’s only. I’m not flexing, it’s just the truth. I mean—isn’t that why people approach me? Why they want to keep me and call me theirs? Yours is different, though. Because I don’t know if I’m special enough to be considered your only.
I never thought I’d get a letter like yours. I’ve gotten compliments before—too many, honestly.
Pretty, pretty, pretty, again and again until it doesn’t mean anything. You didn’t say I was pretty until after you called me interesting. And somehow that meant more.
You write like you’ve seen people before. Not just looked at them. Seen them. So it makes me want to be seen by you. Fully. Maybe it’s stupid to say, but this whole thing feels like a game I don’t want to end.
I told my friends about you. They’re obsessed. I think they want me to fall in love with you already. (They’re insane. Don’t listen to them.)
But I am curious. Are you in love with someone else? Are you writing this for fun? Are you just a writer who can’t help but spill out poetry like it’s nothing?
Or am I the only one?
I’m kidding. Don’t answer that.
I hope you reply.
If you don’t, I’ll understand.
But if you do… then I’m already smiling. (Again.)
—DA”
The next morning, Daniela went to Lara’s house to hang out. Yoonchae was already there when she arrived.
Daniela sat cross-legged on Lara’s bed, clutching the letter in both hands like it was a diary entry she wasn’t sure she wanted anyone else to see.
Lara was lying on her stomach, chin in hand, while Yoonchae sat on the floor with a bag of chips in her lap.
The Latina sighs, mentally preparing herself. For what? Who knows. “Okay, you guys have to promise you won’t judge.”
“Girl, you’re writing letters to your secret admirer like it’s 1812. We already judged! Now let us read.”
Daniela shoved the paper toward them, face burning. “Fine. Just—read fast.”
Lara and Yoonchae huddled together over the letter. For a full minute, there was only the rustling of paper and a few suspiciously choked sounds.
The silence actually made Daniela feel too hyper aware.
If only her friends reacted normally…
Suddenly, the two girls leaned back slowly. Lara’s eyes were slightly wide, “Oh my god…”
Yoonchae gasped dramatically before falling backwards.
“Daniela Avanzini, you are so down bad,” Lara said, pointing at her accusingly.
Daniela groaned, flopping backwards dramatically. “I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT WAS TOO MUCH.”
Yoonchae immediately sat up from the floor, “Too much? No way! This is the perfect balance of poetry, flirtation, and emotional vulnerability! This is perfect, Dani!”
“Exactly! You called them cocky and then asked if you’re the only one they’re watching. That’s iconic behavior… and a little… y’know, like you’re trying to confirm if they like you. Just a tiny bit!”
Yoonchae nods along, seriously. “Send it! Right now. I mean, next Monday! No edits.”
Daniela huffs, covering her face with her hands, mumbling against her palm. “I’m going to die.”
Lara laughs loudly, amused. “If you die, can I have your closet?”
The older girl immediately grabbed the letter from them, “No. But I will send this.”
And she did. Letter sealed. Wax melted. Lavender-scented. Carefully slipped into locker 210 the following Monday, early in the morning—with a heart that might’ve been fluttering a bit too fast.
—
Locker 210 creaked open— and then Sophia instantly shut it like it burned her.
Megan and Manon flinched behind her. Unaware of what happened.
“What the fuck was that, Soph??” Manon asks, slightly concerned.
Sophia slowly turned her head towards them. Stone-faced. “There’s a new letter.”
Megan gasps dramatically, eyes widening. “FROM D.A.??”
Sophia looked like she was seconds away from crying. Visibly unwell. “…yes.”
“Take it! Open it! We wanna see!!” Manon tried to push her away from the locker, but she stood her ground.
“NO. FUCKING WAY. I’M SHUTTING THIS BUSINESS DOWN. IT’S OVER. THE FANTASY IS OVER.” She screamed, still covering the locker like her life depended on it, before pulling both Manon and Megan, turning like she was about to walk away and drag them with her.
Megan launched forward and bodily shoved her off the locker. “YOU ARE READING IT NOW.”
Manon was already cackling. Covering her mouth with her hand, but failing miserably. Her Ijbolitis is acting up. “This is too good! You’re living the strangers-to-lovers penpal AU and you’re choosing to run from it??”
“I didn’t sign up for this! I was just writing letters for money! This wasn’t supposed to— THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BLOSSOM INTO A FULL ROMANTIC CORRESPONDENCE!” Sophia was literally spiraling. She looked like she was losing her mind.
Her friends ignored that, though. Megan was already opening the locker, “Too late.”
She pulled the envelope out like it was treasure. Both Megan and Manon gasped.
“Ooh. She wax sealed it this time.” Manon said in awe.
Megan had a smirk on, showing Sophia the letter, “She’s stepping up her game.”
And to say Sophia was horrified was an understatement. “She’s doing wax seals now… fuck !”
“Well, that’s your fault too. You wax sealed her letter.” Megan said with a shrug before handing Manon the letter.
Sophia’s hands shoot up to her hair, tugging on it a bit. Her glasses were slipping, inches away from falling off her nose. “I WAX SEAL ALL LETTER REQUESTS!! It’s a service standard . You both know this!”
Manon flips the letter, reading the initials written on the back, “It even smells like lavender, too. You’re dead, Laforteza.”
The said girl groans, “Oh my god. I can’t. I can’t do this. I am unwell. Mentally unwell.”
“You’re in deep. You’re not getting away with this one.” Megan said, leaning against locker 210 with her arms crossed.
Sophia sighs, “…She writes really well, you know? Like—annoyingly well.
She says it softly like she’s confessing it.
Manon grins widely at her, “A poet recognizes a poet.”
Sophia glares at her in return, “Shut up.” And she snatches the letter from her hand.
Sophia reads it hours later when she’s finally at home.
For some reason, Megan and Manon wanted to tag along. Sophia knows they just want to read the letter with her.
Sophia sits cross-legged on her bed, holding the lavender-scented, wax-sealed envelope like it might detonate. Megan is beside her with chips that she, again, definitely did not steal from Sophia’s kitchen.
Manon is upside down on the small couch in Sophia’s room with her feet on the wall, holding up a drink.
“I’m going to read it now. You two better be quiet.” Sophia mutters.
“We’re literally not doing anything,” Megan mumbled, mouth filled with chips.
Manon stood up from the couch, walking over to the bed before flopping down beside Sophia.
Now, Sophia’s in the middle.
“Not even breathing.” Sophia glared at Manon, who was clearly too close for comfort.
Then she turns and glares at Megan, “Megan, you’re chewing in my ear.”
Megan, with her mouth full, responded immediately. “That’s support.”
Sophia rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore her friends.
She turns her attention to the letter in her hands, and she finally breaks the seal. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she unfolds the neatly folded letter—Daniela’s handwriting instantly recognizable now.
She starts to read it slowly, mouthing the words silently.
Megan leans over, annoyingly chewing closer to Sophia’s ear. “What’s it say? Does she confess her undying love? Does she ask for a lock of your hair?”
Sophia was quick to shove her away, earning her a loud giggle from the younger girl. “Let me read in silence, Megan!”
She continues to read. Her eyes move more slowly now, lingering on each sentence. Her grip tightens around the paper.
Manon watches her in silence. Eyes flickering between Sophia and the letter in her hands. “Okay, but you’re smiling. What’s it say?”
“No, I’m not.” Sophia snaps, and her smile instantly fades.
Megan grins beside her, “Bitch, are you in love? You must be!!”
The Filipina shushes them both with her hand. “ Shut up. Let me finish this first!”
And she keeps reading.
“You’re quite cocky. I love that. You’ve already obliterated half of my suitors just by writing these letters. I don’t even know if your letters are love letters, but they seem affectionate enough.”
Sophia squints, trying to fight the smile creeping up on her face.
Manon raises both of her eyebrows. She was a bit impressed. “Affectionate enough. Damn. That’s like sapphic Morse code for ‘please marry me.’”
“That is literally not—“ Sophia just cuts herself off. No point in arguing with her friends, anyway.
Sophia reads the part: “ How do I respond to your letter and copy off of the way you compliment me when I haven’t even seen you? It makes me curious.”
Followed by one of the questions.
“Do I matter that much to you?”
Sophia lets out a very embarrassing little sound—somewhere between a sigh and a soft “ugh”—and immediately hides her face in the letter.
She tried her best not to react. Really. She did. But she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like the letter was trying so hard to puncture her heart with Cupid’s arrow.
Did it puncture her heart? She’s not quite sure. Maybe it missed.
She hopes it did.
Megan stared at her with wild eyes, never having seen Sophia like this before. “Oh, she IS GONE! PACK IT UP. ROMANTIC TRAGEDY INCOMING.”
Manon laughed. High-pitched and almost as if it came out involuntarily. “I told you this would happen. You should’ve never gone Edgar Allan Hoe mode on that first letter.”
“Are you calling me a hoe??” Sophia peeked through the letter, shooting Manon a warning look.
“William Shakespeare, then.” Manon raised both her hands in surrender.
“Or, John Donne. You are a romantic, after all.” Megan said, lips stretching into a cocky grin.
Sophia scoffs huffily before burying her face in the letter again. “I swear to god… If she writes one more letter, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
“Aww,” Manon patted her shoulder, “But you’re going to write back, right?”
Megan laughs, a little too loudly next to Sophia’s ear.
The Filipina didn’t seem to care as she was too busy thinking about Manon’s question.
She didn’t even need to think about it. She already knew what she was going to do.
“…Yeah.” She mumbles.
—
The room is dark except for the small, warm glow of her bedside lamp. Everything is quiet now—Megan and Manon have long gone home. Her guitar leans against the corner. The letter lies on her lap, gently folded and slightly wrinkled from earlier.
Sophia breathes in, slowly.
She unfolds the letter again, smoothing it out on her thigh like it’s something precious. The words blur slightly—not from the ink, but from how often she’s read them tonight.
She starts from the beginning… but her eyes always drift back to that part.
“I wonder if I only matter to people whom I have yet to see.”
Her chest tightens. She bites her lip.
“Do I matter that much to you?”
Her breath catches. Like it was lodged in her throat.
Sophia leans her head back against the wall, eyes staring up at the ceiling. The letter crinkles in her grip.
She thinks if it would be too much if she replies with “you matter more than you know.”
Or even if she just said it in her mind. Would it be too much? Would that be too telling of her feelings?
Then again, she’s not even sure about what she feels. All she knows is that she wrote a letter, sent it to a pretty girl named Daniela Avanzini, and now said pretty girl is writing back.
As if she were challenging Sophia.
They’re not quite flirting. They’re dancing around it. Even the way Sophia writes, she’s indirect.
And Daniela knows how to copy the style. She knew how to play the game right.
She glances back down, rereading the same lines over and over again—like she’s trying to memorize them, etch them into her skin. There’s something fragile in the way Daniela writes. Something that’s messing Sophia up a little too much.
She rereads the next line slowly, as if saying it out loud makes it more real:
“I hope I am.”
Sophia sighs.
And would it be too much if she says “You are.” over and over, even only to herself?
She places the letter beside her pillow and lies down, still facing it.
And for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel like she’s just writing for someone else.
Just completely, terrifyingly, understood and reciprocated with whatever the hell she’s doing.
The next morning, Manon and Megan had given Sophia a heads-up. They’d be having breakfast together before going to school.
It was nothing fancy or big. Just the usual things they’d do together, even way before.
Except things are slightly different now.
Because instead of seeing Sophia still sleeping inside her room, they see Sophia hunched over her desk like a gremlin. Her hands were rapidly moving as if she were running out of time.
“Your mom let us in,” Manon said, before turning to look at Megan. “…And she’s already writing a letter.”
Sophia doesn’t even look up. Hair messy, hoodie on, glasses sliding down her nose. She’s still hunched over her desk, scribbling intensely with a fancy pen on thick cream stationery. The same kind of wax seal sits ready beside her.
Megan blinked, a hint of concern evident in the way she looked at Sophia. “Did you even sleep…?”
“I did! Like… an hour.” Sophia responds, but she doesn’t even look up. She’s still writing. “I couldn’t help it… It’s her fault.”
A quiet sigh escapes Manon’s lips as she leans against the doorframe. “You’re folding origami swans with your feelings. I can see it.”
“It’s not that dramatic…” Sophia mumbles. Her lips pursed slightly.
Megan walked over and read the letter over her shoulder. “ —I think the way you write is dangerous. Not in a threatening way. But in the way that makes people stay up at night just to feel it again…?” She blinks before leaning back slightly to look at the girl beside her. “SOPHIA!”
“Oh, she really is gone. God. You are so gone!” Manon dramatically clutched her chest.
Sophia finally stopped writing, setting the pen down and looking up at them. “Can you guys shut up, please?! I’m trying to make it sound like I didn’t spend an hour rereading her letter with sad girl music in the background!”
“Too late for that! You’re halfway into a novel-length confession!” Megan nudged her.
“Can I be honest? At this point, if you don’t end up marrying Daniela Avanzini, I will personally sue fate for emotional damage.” Manon said as she slowly crossed her arms, still leaning against the doorframe.
Sophia pauses… then very quietly seals the envelope shut. Scoffing when she’s finally done, mumbling to no one but herself. “Far-fetched.”
—
Daniela is in her room, lights off except for the warm yellow glow of her bedside lamp. She’s wearing her oldest hoodie, the one she claims is “ugly but comforting,” and she’s curled up in bed, letter in hand.
She breaks the wax seal slowly, reverently, as if she already knows this one’s going to hit differently. And it does.
She reads the first few lines with a grin, already biting back a smile.
“Dear Avanzini,
You’re charming when you’re flustered…”
She snorts softly and mumbles, “You’re cocky,” under her breath—but the smile stays.
“ I’m assuming you were flustered when you wrote back because no one writes “nice name” with that kind of smug confidence unless they were kicking their feet the whole time. I admire your commitment to the bit.
I think the way you write is dangerous. Not in a threatening way. But in the way that makes people stay up at night just to feel it again. (I’m not saying this because I stayed up all night. I definitely didn’t.)
But maybe that’s why I liked the way you write so much. You have so many things to say but so little to share with the people around you. You suddenly filling up papers with your thoughts and only ever letting me know about it (with the exception of your friends) is flattering to me.
You’re taking up so much of your time to write back to me, and for what? I find it fascinating. That's all.
Honestly? I’m not even complaining. I’d read your writing every day.”
She stops reading for a second, catching her breath as if she were trying to let the first few paragraphs sink in before she could continue.
Then she continues.
“Also—I do know that your hair is naturally curly. I’ve seen it. I always wondered why you started straightening it. You should stop. And brown hair suits you. Not like those white blonde girls who try hard to look like Barbie. I like your brown curls.”
At that point, Daniela gasps. Literally. She physically gasped.
Her hand flies to her mouth. She presses the letter against her chest for a second. She needs a break. Her heart is pounding.
She has to set the letter down for a moment because her face is flushed and her heart’s racing, and she’s smiling way too hard to keep reading.
She picks it back up after a deep breath and keeps reading—
“And this isn’t a love letter, just so you know. I’m not some secret admirer trying to get your attention with pretty words and metaphors, and weird emotional paragraphs. I just… wonder what you really are as a person. Not what the school painted you to be.
You walk around like you know the script already, like people only ever ask you the same questions and expect the same answers. Like you have to smile first, so they don’t get disappointed.
(That was too poetic, sorry. I’m trying to scale it back, but clearly I suck at that.)
Anyway. You say you hope you’re the only one I watch.
Not really. I’ve noticed other people, too. But in a way, you kind of are the only one I ever paid too much attention to.
I know where your locker is. I know how you walk fast when you’re embarrassed and how you twist your ring when you’re overthinking something. I know how you roll your eyes even when you’re enjoying something. You’re transparent in the way people only are when they’ve been performing for too long.
I don’t think I’m in love with you. That would be dramatic.
I think I just see you.”
The last few lines completely wreck her.
She stares at it. Reads it again. Then again.
“What the hell…” she whispers under her breath.
Her hand’s in her hair now, tugging lightly, because what the hell is she supposed to do with a line like that?? Who says stuff like that?? Who writes letters like this??
“The real you. The quiet you. The one who straightens her hair and shrugs at compliments, and pretends like she doesn’t care.
I think you’re interesting. In the way planets are interesting. You’re there—beautiful, distant, and everyone wants to say they’ve touched you.
I don’t want to touch you.
I want to know you.
Anyway, not a love letter.
Sincerely,
Whoever.
P.S. Please stop wax sealing things, I’m running out of candles.“
Daniela was at a loss for words. All of this person’s letters to her have been poetically beautiful. Carefully handwritten.
But this letter? This was something else. It didn’t feel like they were trying their best to make Daniela swoon. They used simple words, but the sentences offered her a different perspective and feeling each time.
Especially the part where it said “I don’t want to touch you. I want to know you.”
She has to throw the letter down on the bed and just stare at the ceiling. She’s breathless. She’s kicking her legs under the blanket. She’s holding back a scream.
How could this person even say it wasn’t any form of confession?
She picks the letter up again and reads the whole thing three more times. Mouthing the words. Smiling so hard it hurts. Cheeks hot. Eyes soft.
By the end, she’s whispering, “This is definitely a love letter. You liar.”
And she already knows—she’s writing back.
Chapter 2: Don't you see me? I think I'm falling
Notes:
okay this is slightly longer, I really did put all my braincells in this chapter. But this isn't a long series! I actually planned to have this as a one shot but come on... I write too long, it can't fit in one chapter alone lmao. I think this will have up to 3-4 chapters? Depends on how long it gets tbh. If I keep writing too much, this might turn into a 5-6 part fic
but anyway here y'all go. I appreciate all y'alls comments btw, and damn almost all of y'all are filos jfhdsjfs
Chapter Text
Daniela ends up in a cozy café downtown after school. The kind with too many plants and mismatched mugs. Wonky-shaped mugs with quirky but charming designs.
The three of them are nestled in their usual corner booth, drinks half-finished. Daniela’s got the letter tucked in her notebook like it’s sacred text.
To Daniela, it probably is a sacred text.
“Okay. Spill. What did the new letter say? You’ve been weird all day.” Lara was wide-eyed, elbows on the table.
Daniela was obviously giddy, but she was trying to keep calm, “You guys. I—this one was… kind of different.”
Yoonchae leans in, eyes gleaming. “How different? Did they say something otherworldly?”
The Latina sighs dreamily. Almost as if she were already melting in her seat. “Kind of? Like… I read it four times! And then I had to put it down because I was getting chest pains. The good kind!”
Lara’s mouth was agape, “SHUT UP.”
“I’m being serious! My heart was literally like—” she bangs her fist lightly against her chest, unsure how to describe the feeling through words.
Yoonchae was already grinning, amused. This is the first time they have ever seen Daniela this way.
Daniela laughs at her own actions, leaning back in her seat. “God, I might as well go crazy. I don’t even know who the hell they are.”
“Read us the best parts. Don’t be greedy.” Lara said, tapping her fingers on the table.
Daniela pulls out the letter and starts to read snippets.
“I like your brown curls.”
“I don’t think I’m in love with you. That would be dramatic.”
“I don’t want to touch you. I want to know you.”
The two girls in front of her were both visibly stunned.
Lara has one of her hands over her mouth, “Oh my god? Now who… that’s actually insane. Who says that?? Like really, who says things like that?”
Yoonchae leans back as if trying to process the things that Daniela had just read. “That’s not a man. That’s poetry in human form. ”
Daniela sinks into her seat, covering her face with both her arms. “Exactly! That’s the problem! Who writes like this?? I don’t know whether they’re a genius or a menace.”
“Sounds like someone who really sees you. Like, not to be corny or anything. They seem very genuine.” Lara says softly.
“Yeah… that’s… yeah. That actually kind of scares me a bit.” Daniela says after being quiet for a second.
Yoonchae blinks, curious. “Why?”
Daniela takes a breath, fiddling with the wax seal. “Because I want to know who he is. And at the same time, I kind of don’t. What if knowing ruins the mystery? What if they’re just some… guy with no poetry in his eyes? What if he’s nothing like this?”
“Or what if he’s even more than this?” Lara gently tapped Daniela’s hand, giving the girl a little comfort.
Daniela groans. “Ughh. Stop saying romantic things about him! I’m spiraling!”
“Too late. You’re deep in it now. You’ve officially crossed into main character territory. No turning back!” Yoonchae says after giggling at Daniela’s reaction.
Daniela rests her chin on top of her palm, smiling slightly before letting out a defeated sigh through her nose. “I’m gonna write back, aren’t I?”
The two girls grinned at her, “YES,” they said in unison.
“Like, immediately.” Yoonchae pushed, clapping her hands together gently.
“Yes. Right now, while the heart is still weak! That’s where the good words come from.” Lara added.
Daniela was already flipping her notebook open, “God, this is so stupid…”
Lara raised a brow at her with a teasing smirk on her lips. “Yeah. And you love it.”
“Yeah… I really do.” Daniela quietly said. Smiling down at the page.
“Oh! By the way. There’s a football game later this week. Are you guys attending?” Yoonchae suddenly perked up, looking at both of them with expectant eyes.
Lara nods, “Yeah. Of course!”
Daniela shrugs, “Yeah, sure? But if they’re starting to lose halfway, I’m leaving.”
The two girls laugh at her as she goes back to writing on the page in front of her.
—
The campus is still quiet, the sun barely rising through the tall windows of the library. Soft golden light pours across the polished wood tables and the rows of books.
There were a few students here and there, lounging inside the library or already reading books at a different table.
Sophia sits at the far end, hunched over in a corner nook. A light blue envelope—wax-sealed in deep red this time—rests in front of her. Her fingers hover over it, hesitant.
“This really is spiraling out of control…” Sophia mutters to herself.
She looks around. No Megan. No Manon.
She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose, and finally breaks the seal.
The scent of the letter hits her first—vanilla and something faintly floral. Daniela switched the perfumes. No longer lavender. And somehow, that made it worse.
Because now Daniela has a trademark scent for Sophia.
She swallows hard before reading.
Her eyes scan the page, slowly at first. Then faster. Then again, slower. She was halfway through when she exhaled sharply and leaned back in her chair.
She glances up like someone might be watching. No one is. It’s just her and the letter and her thoughts, loud as hell.
“Dear whoever,
I still don’t know who you are, but you sure know what words to pick.
Would I be asking too much if I wanted to know who you are? Maybe just a hint? Not your name or where you live—keep that to yourself if you want. But maybe something small. Something I wouldn’t find in a yearbook or a school roster. I want this to stay a mystery. Just not… a cold one.”
She reads it again. Her breath catches a little at the next part.
“I know, I’m a sucker for secret admirers who know how to write about other things besides calling me pretty. Sue me.”
Sophia lets out a tiny laugh. Almost a scoff. But it’s fond. “She’s so full of herself.”
But she’s smiling.
(You do that too, though. But in a very roundabout, poetic way. I think I like it.)
Are you sure this isn’t a love letter? Because from the way you write about my curls, I’m kind of seeing a pattern here. You must like me. A little. Or a lot. I don’t know. You’re kind of hard to read, even though you go on forever. (Also: I’m considering letting my hair be natural again. You might have had something to do with that.)
You did kind of say that I’m the only one you watch. Kind of. You play too much. Never telling me directly. But that’s fine.
You said you know my locker. Which begs the question: I don’t know your locker. I doubt you truly own locker 210. (I don’t even know if you’re the one running locker 210, or if locker 210 is just the messenger of our letters. Like a mailman.) So what does that make me? Does it categorize me as someone who doesn’t watch you? Someone who doesn’t know you?
…Maybe. And I kind of hate that. It makes me feel like a stranger to you.
But that really shouldn’t be a problem, right? I just feel like we communicate too much to be strangers. Or maybe this is just me reaching.
You’re a secret admirer, after all. Not much of a secret to my friends anymore, anyway. (They say hi.)
I keep rereading that line. The one where you said:
“I don’t want to touch you. I want to know you.”
And it did something to me. No one’s ever said that before. No one’s ever wanted that before.
Do you?
From,
DA”
When she was done, it took her a moment to let the words sink in.
In a split second, she decided that reading the letter once wasn’t enough for her to take all of it in. So, she reads through it again.
She’s smiling again, and she doesn’t even realize it.
Not until she hits the part she couldn’t get enough of.
“You must like me. A little. Or a lot. I don’t know. You’re kind of hard to read.”
She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Her ears are getting hot.
She leans forward, elbows on the table, hands covering her mouth, and just sits there. Quiet. Staring at the paper like it holds all the answers she’s afraid to confront.
And then she hits that line again.
“I keep rereading that line. The one where you said:
“I don’t want to touch you. I want to know you.”
No one’s ever said that before. No one’s ever wanted that before.
Do you?”
Sophia presses the heel of her palm against her chest, like that will slow her heartbeat down. Her brows furrow.
She stares at the paper again. Her throat tightens.
Is that what she wants? To know her? To know who Daniela Avanzini truly was? But still keep that distance between them?
Sophia isn’t… she doesn’t know.
Maybe.
But she has never thought of closing that distance. She has never thought of the distance at all.
But now Daniela's asking her.
What could her answer be?
She thinks about it. She hasn’t moved in for nearly five minutes.
Sophia’s still at the same spot, head in her hands now, the letter folded neatly on the table but definitely read within an inch of its life.
She doesn’t even notice Manon and Megan walking up to her.
And when they were close enough, Megan placed her bag on top of the desk.
“There you are!” She whisper-shouts.
“Why didn’t you wait for us?? We’ve been texting you for an hour!” Manon says, taking a seat across from Sophia.
Sophia sits bolt upright, trying to hide the letter too late. “What? You—you guys were late!”
Megan saw the letter immediately, raising an eyebrow before grinning. “Oh, so that’s why you didn’t wait for us.”
“She got another letter.” Manon scoffs.
Before she can even answer, Megan snatches the letter from the table and gasps dramatically. “The scent is different! OH MY GOD. You are single-handedly making THE Daniela Avanzini fall for you just by writing letters!”
Sophia chokes on nothing, “I’m not—“
Manon stood up and read the paper over Megan’s shoulder, “‘ You must like me.’ Pfft. Look at her spiraling in cursive.”
“Hold on, this part—“ Do you?”— OH. My god. She’s not even subtle about it anymore! She’s yearning , Sophia! We’re in the yearning arc now.” Megan said, pointing at the paper.
Sophia turns away, looking embarrassed. She carefully scratched her neck, trying to hide the fact that she was slightly flustered. “Can you two not have a public breakdown over this? This is the library.”
Manon looks at her sharply, “You read it alone in here, the library, at 7 AM. You have no room to talk.”
“ I’m not writing back. I’m shutting this business down. I’m totally normal about this. ” Megan mockingly says. Repeating the words Sophia said before.
“And now she’s pacing around campus like a literature heroine, making pretty girls fall for her words.” Manon gestures towards Sophia, who rolls her eyes.
“I hate both of you.” Sophia mumbles.
But her cheek is red and she’s biting back a smile.
Her two best friends finally cut her some slack, and they ignored the way she looked.
Megan leans against the table, her other hand pulling her bag by the strap. “We’re going to get some breakfast before first period. Wanna come?”
Sophia blinked up at them. She considered the thought of eating first, but then her head was just filled with possible responses she could write for the next letter.
So she shakes her head slowly. “No, it’s okay. You guys go on ahead.”
Megan pulled her bag, slinging it over her shoulders.
Manon hummed, “Seems like you’re too busy playing Romeo to even eat breakfast with us.” She says it teasingly. Shooting Sophia a playful look.
Sophia clears her throat, “Just go eat, you two.”
They both chuckle quietly before waving at Sophia, “We’ll be back before first period. Save us a seat.”
Sophia nods, watching them walk away.
She then leans over her notebook. Pushing her glasses up as she picked up her pen. She writes like there’s no tomorrow, letting her brain come up with words in less than a second.
Her pen glides smoothly, barely lifting.
She stops once she fills up the entire page in minutes. She stares at the last line, smiling like a fool.
She’s so far gone, and she knows it.
She starts to write the next sentence when the deafening sound of the bell for first period rings throughout the whole school.
She hears it faintly just outside the library.
Sophia jolts, eyes darting to the clock.
Panic sets in as she starts to scramble and shove her things inside her bag. “No. Nonononono. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me—“
She quickly zips her bag up, standing up in a hurry before speedwalking out of the library.
“This letter’s gonna get me in trouble. I’m gonna be late and I’m labeled as down bad.” She grumbles to herself.
As she walks through the hallways of the main building, a door from behind her slams open. Manon and Megan come running in with drinks and half-eaten breakfast pastries in their hands.
“We’re gonna be late!” Manon says, speedwalking beside Sophia.
“Who decided to stay and get coffee, huh!?” Megan huffed, almost tripping on her own feet as she followed close behind.
“It was iced and it was calling my name!!” Manon reasons, out of breath.
Sophia huffs, “Can you two just keep walking?”
Just as they round the corner, Sophia bumps into someone. Papers almost go flying from her hand, but she catches them just in time. She looks up—
It’s Daniela.
Just her luck.
Time slows for a split second. Daniela’s eyes widened slightly. She looks effortlessly pretty today, curls in full display. Sophia blinks, steadying herself.
Luckily, Sophia was too in a rush to even panic in front of the girl she had been secretly writing to.
Without hesitation, Sophia reached out and placed a gentle hand on Daniela’s shoulder. Her hand lightly touched the girl, almost like it was just hovering.
“You alright? Yeah? Good. Love your curls today.”
She was almost out of breath. But all words were said with her signature calm charm, that no one even knew she had, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Then she’s off again. She sprints toward class without another word.
Daniela has yet to even process everything. “…what?”
She was stunned.
Megan passes by, slightly out of breath, “Hi Daniela!”
Manon runs right behind Megan, hands trembling with how tightly she was holding onto her iced drink. “Morning!! Love the outfit, by the way!”
The two trail after Sophia, rounding the next corner.
—
Daniela walked into school that day, curls free, bouncing slightly with every step. She told herself last night she’d try. Just once. Just to see how it’d go.
She liked how they looked in the mirror. Natural. Soft. Hers.
She didn’t expect everyone to have something to say about it.
A student passed her by, smiling a bit too much. “Oh wow, Dani… going for a wild look today?”
Another one passed her by, laughing not unkindly. “So different! It’s giving… lion queen! Cute though!”
And she heard a few students whispering to one another, “Did she forget to straighten it? Or did she wake up late?”
It’s subtle, but every comment chips away at her confidence. By the time she gets to her locker, she’s already second-guessing.
She fiddles with her lock, lips pressed together tightly.
“Maybe I should just tie it up…” she starts to think.
She’s so caught up in her head that she doesn’t even notice someone rounding the corner.
They bump into her—not too hard, but enough to jolt her slightly. She looks up, and she instantly sees dark brown eyes.
She blinks. Her mind worked double time to process who she was looking at.
Long black hair, black and thick-rimmed glasses, and slightly sharp eyes.
Sophia Laforteza.
The girl with a sharp tongue—well, she barely talked to anyone. Only answered questions and quietly wrote at the back of the room.
The one everyone says is too smart to be real. The one who, until this moment, Daniela only kind of knew by name and reputation.
Sophia immediately reaches out, steadying her gently with a hand on her shoulder before smoothly saying, “You alright? Yeah? Good. Love your curls today.”
She says it so fast, so casual, and then she’s off again—running down the hallway like it didn’t mean anything.
But it did.
To Daniela, it did.
She just stands there, blinking. Stunned.
Lara and Yoonchae appear a second later, looking at her.
“You okay?” Lara asked, gently patting her on the back.
Yoonchae stared down the hallway, from which the three girls had run off. “Wasn’t that Sophia Laforteza?”
Daniela turned to look at them, “Sophia bumped into me… told me she liked my curls.” Her voice sounded small, like she was shy about it.
Lara then smiled, “Oh, then at least someone other than us likes your natural hair, right?”
Yoonchae shrugged, casually sincere, “Exactly.”
Daniela gulped, looking down at the floor. “Well, her timing was perfect.” Her hand brushes over her curls. “Everyone was giving me… backhanded compliments about my hair the moment I entered the hallway.”
Lara shook her head, “Babe, ignore them. They all look stupid anyway. No one can pull those curls better than you.”
Yoonchae nodded, “It’s good! Seriously. They can’t be giving you those backhanded compliments while looking like a clown. The nerve these people have.”
At least her friends have her back.
Daniela lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Something tight in her chest loosens—just a little.
And maybe Sophia Laforteza complimenting her hair is also a part of why she won’t be tying her hair up today.
—
Sophia throws herself into her seat, panting. Her bag was half-zipped, and she rummaged through it while she was running. The papers she didn’t shove in her bag were now slightly crumpled in her hands.
Megan and Manon stumble in a second later, both grinning way too wide.
“You did not just say that to her,” Manon said, grabbing the desk right beside Sophia.
Megan plopped down into the other seat. Sophia was now between them. “ Love your curls today— Really, Sophia?? Where did this confidence come from?”
Sophia freezes in place, eyes wide, still catching her breath.
“…Did I say that out loud?” She mumbles after a beat.
“Oh, you absolutely did,” Megan confirms, leaning closer to Sophia.
“You gently touched her shoulder, looked her dead in the eye like a goddamn main lead from a romcom, and just— casually complimented her hair?? Are you KIDDING?” Manon said on the opposite side, eyes wide.
Sophia groans before covering her face with her hands. “Fuck… I blacked out! I was so focused on getting to class on time! I thought I only thought that!”
Megan was enjoying this. She was cackling beside Sophia, hunched over, face almost colliding with the table. “Girl, you stunned her.”
“She’s probably going to write about it in her diary,” Manon adds, smirking at Sophia.
Sophia pushed her face further into her hands, mumbling against it like she was praying. “Shut up! I’m going to pass away… literally. I’m passing away right here, right now.”
Then she slumps on the table, hiding her face more as she buries her head in her arms.
Manon and Megan lean in gleefully.
“You flirted with her, Sophia. In real life. Not in a letter. That was game. ” Megan wiggled her eyebrows playfully.
Sophia lifts her head just slightly, shooting Megan a look. “I did not… !” She stops for a moment, her gaze drifting off before she looks back at Megan.
“Do you think she knows? What if she connects it? What if she starts putting it together??”
Megan shrugged, “Then it’s over. In a good way.”
Manon taps Sophia’s back, “Or just gaslight her. Deny everything. Act dumb and clueless.”
“You guys are no help.” Sophia deadpans.
“And yet you keep us around!” Megan cheerfully says, grin widening.
Sophia groans again, collapsing dramatically on her desk.
She thinks about it the whole class.
But in the middle, she continues her letter. Just so she could get her mind off of what she did earlier…
As if it would help.
As soon as she finishes it, the bell rings.
Sophia folds the letter carefully. Runs her thumb over the edge.
She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling. Yet again.
—
Daniela pauses at her locker the next morning, still halfway thinking about yesterday—about the words “ Love your curls today.” And the girl who said them with such ridiculous ease before disappearing into the crowd like it was nothing.
She opens locker 93 out of routine. She wasn’t expecting much.
But there it is.
A letter.
It’s earlier than usual. She was here yesterday at the same time, and there was nothing. But now it’s folded precisely, with the same handwriting she’s already memorized. No wax seal this time. Just careful creases and a familiar little indent where the writer presses too hard with the pen.
She looks around.
No one suspicious. No lurking shadows. No person in sight rushing away from the scene of the crime.
She slips it into her tote bag carefully.
And when she gets to her first class, she doesn’t even make it five minutes before pulling it back out and reading it under the desk.
She reads the words “Dear Daniela Avanzini,” and she rolls her eyes fondly. She hates how much she already expects that line.
But she continues reading.
“Dear Daniela Avanzini,
Yes, full government name. Don’t ask me if I do know your FULL full name, because I do, and I hope that’s not creepy for you. I just saw your name in the roster way back. I didn’t stalk you.
You’re pushing this agenda that I like you. I tolerate you at best, and sure, maybe I admire you a bit. I did say you’re quite charming only when flustered. And I do like your curls, how many times am I required to say it? (Please let your natural hair flow, it’s pretty.)
But enough about me, what about you? You must like me a little bit? I mean, it’s hard to like someone you don’t even know the face and name of, but chances are you’re probably interested already, and I’ve got you hooked, haven’t I?
I’m cocky, I know. But you wouldn’t dare write back if I wrote like a 16-year-old boy trying to get into their crush’s pants through a letter. I’m too smart for that.
You must have a keen eye for poetry. And maybe artistic writing. I did see you once staring at a piece during that art exhibition last year. You watched it like it was speaking to you.
I’m mesmerized, really (go on, take the compliment. I am talking about you.), but it just makes me think, do you do art? Other than writing, of course. And you must read. I’ve seen you reading in the library countless times. And if you want a hint, here’s your hint: you’ve accidentally taken my spot in the library, maybe more than I can count by hand.
(It’s up to you to find that space, and maybe if you’re lucky enough, I’m there. But I doubt you’d actually want to see me yet.)
I’d just like to boast about myself. I do art. I can draw you perfectly. Not to be overly confident or anything. But that’s what I do when I’m not writing.
But you—based on my observations—seem to be an artsy type… I’m getting the vibe. If I were to ask why you liked my writing, would you reply with “because I’m just so good at writing,” or because you’re artistic and you gravitate towards people who make you feel something? Or maybe — and hear me out — you just like me completely. Which, I mean, you’re only human. I’d understand.”
She tries not to laugh, and fails. A breathy huff slips out. Her seatmate gives her a confused look. She just shakes her head.
She reads the rest with a slow, careful focus — one leg bouncing under the table, her fingers brushing over the words.
“ I’m not actually this arrogant all the time, if that helps. Just selectively, with you.
You’re charming, Daniela. Even when you’re just a name on a letter. You make words sound like they’re dancing. (That was disgustingly poetic. I’m going to ignore it happened.)”
She freezes, and her throat tightens.
“I keep wondering how you sound when you laugh at something that genuinely surprises you. I keep picturing your face when you cry, too — not out of sadness, but when something overwhelms you in the best way. You strike me as the type to cry when something’s beautiful.
Maybe I’m projecting. Maybe that’s me.
There’s a little theater to this letter-writing thing, don’t you think? A little mystery, a little costume behind the curtain. But in between the jokes and posturing, you say things that feel… real. I don’t know what to do with that, except keep replying.
Maybe that’s the whole point.
—The one who knows your locker (and maybe more than I should)”
She gulps down the lump in her throat because once again, she felt like she had been seen once more. Like she had become transparent while she read the whole letter.
“You strike me as the type to cry when something’s beautiful.”
Especially that part. Because it was true.
She does.
How could this person just know what Daniela is like?
She tucks it safely back into her bag. She needs to talk to Lara and Yoonchae. Immediately .
—
The girls are seated at their usual spot. The quad. Under the tree, under the shade.
It’s perfect.
It’s somewhere Daniela can be dramatic.
She throws herself beside Yoonchae, taking up the empty spot easily. “I got another letter.”
“Already?” Lara asked, visibly taken aback.
“Didn’t you check your locker three times yesterday?” Yoonchae has her brows slightly raised.
“I did, and it wasn’t there! But this morning, boom — like magic. It was just sitting there like it had been delivered by an emotionally unstable but poetic ghost.” Daniela dramatically says.
Lara snorts, “Okay, let’s see it then.”
Daniela carefully pulls out the letter, already unfolded and mildly wrinkled from her reading it five times during first period. She places it in front of them like it was the holy bible.
“First of all… they called me charming.”
Yoonchae nods, “As they should.”
Daniela shook her head, “No, no, specifically—they said, ‘You’re charming, Daniela. Even when you’re just a name on a letter.’ Like? How do you expect me to recover from that?”
Lara leans in, her smile teasing. “Sounds like someone is in love with you already.”
Daniela scoffs, but the faint smile on her lips betrays her. She doesn’t respond to that, though. She keeps on going.
“And then they said I make words sound like they’re dancing. I actually almost cried. In class. In the middle of Physics.”
Yoonchae finally picked up the letter, reading it fast. “ …You strike me as the type to cry when something’s beautiful. ”
The younger girl’s head snaps up at Daniela. Lara flinched slightly, surprised by the sudden movement.
Yoonchae blinked slowly, “They vibe checked you because that’s so specific!”
Lara laughs, “No, because what they said was true! Dani’s like… emotional when she sees something pretty or meaningful.”
Daniela slaps her knees, “RIGHT? Like, how could they just guess that??”
“I mean… You are kind of easy to read. But only if the person is close enough to you.” Yoonchae points out, finally folding the letter and slipping it back inside the envelope.
“I think it’s moving that someone is writing this much and this well to you, like this is legit poetic. Not a single ‘ur so hot bae’ in sight.” Lara says, moving her hands around as she carefully conveys her thoughts.
Daniela let out a sigh.
She feels it now, slowly creeping up on her. Everything is finally sinking in. It’s not that she was bothered about how much this person could read her so eloquently as if she were an open book.
Daniela was never an open book.
She looks easy to read, but she’s not. She has a front. A facade. Something that she put effort into building.
And suddenly, this stranger comes in and just—
They read her like she’s their favorite book. They would stop at each page and read each word slowly as if they were engraving it into their brain.
Lara immediately noticed that Daniela grew quiet. “Hey, you okay? Are you freaked out?”
Her hand rested on top of Daniela’s, gentle and steady.
Daniela blinked. She meets Lara’s gaze and then Yoonchae’s, who was as concerned.
“Yeah… are you weirded out? Because they know a lot about you.” The younger girl adds.
Daniela shook her head slowly, “No. It just makes me wonder if this is who they really are. Like, poetic. Like they know what words to say and use.” She bites her lips before continuing, “They see me, but I can’t see them. It’s hard not to think about the negatives. What if they’re just pretending? What if they’re just good with words, but they’re really not what they portray through the letters?”
Her thoughts come pouring out of her mouth like heavy rain, with dark clouds and thunder.
Lara’s gaze softens, and Yoonchae breathes through her nose.
“I get you. I totally get what you mean. Knowing you, it's hard for you to open up to people. So I understand if you’re having second thoughts about whoever this is.” Lara pats her knee as she speaks.
Yoonchae reached out and held one of Daniela’s hands. “It’s okay to think that way! Because you don’t know who they are and what they’re really like.”
The Korean girl offers Daniela a gentle smile, squeezing her hands a bit as a form of assurance.
Daniela felt light knowing that her friends were validating her feelings. Hearing her out and helping her through it.
“Exactly. But, Dani.”
Daniela turns and looks at Lara.
“What do you feel towards this person? Do you think they have good intentions? And what makes you have such a strong urge to write them back?”
Daniela thinks for a second. She has thought of that countless times before.
When she wakes up, before she goes to sleep, this mysterious person is all she ever thinks of and what they’re like.
She knows nothing about this person except for the hints they’ve given her.
But she’s sure about one thing.
Their words are like fire with how warm they make Daniela feel.
“I’m kind of scared but… they keep writing things like ‘I don’t want to touch you, I want to know you,’ and suddenly I don’t want to read anything else.”
And that was enough.
Lara and Yoonchae hearing those words was enough for them to know that, despite Daniela’s hesitation, she can stay and keep this thing going until they finally meet the secret admirer.
—
“…I’m going to pass away,” Sophia mumbles as she walks across campus with Megan and Manon.
“You said that twenty times already.” Manon deadpans.
“Twenty-one, actually.” Megan corrects as she slightly bumps her shoulder against Sophia’s
Sophia staggers, huffing as she steps away from the two girls, going off the path before walking back to her spot.
“Asshole.” She glares at Megan through her glasses.
“What’s the matter anyway? You’ve been saying the same shit for the past 15 minutes.” Manon asks, side eyeing Sophia.
“You don’t understand. I touched her shoulder. I complimented her curls like a lunatic . And then—I slipped in the letter like nothing happened. Like I wasn’t spiraling inside. I’m done. I’m actually done,“ the words came out before her mind could even process it.
Megan rolls her eyes, “Girl, you’re spiraling over that? You’re flirting with her through letters the same way Hamilton did with Elizabeth Schuyler, and you’re worried about… touching her shoulder and complimenting her curls??”
“I’m not flirting with her! And I panicked, okay?? I wasn’t supposed to… talk to her or interact with her at all!” Sophia scratches her head, frowning hard. “And she—she looked at me, Megan! Her eyes met mine! I saw my life flash before my eyes. My GPA. My childhood. My sins.”
Manon and Megan share a look.
They both obviously think that Sophia’s being ridiculous.
Manon waves her hand dismissively in the air, “Yeah, well, you lived to tell the tale. Proud of you. Slightly disappointed you didn’t faint after for comedic effect though.”
Megan snorts at that.
Sophia scoffs, “Next time I will. Just to spice things up.”
But then Megan smoothly loops her hand around Sophia’s shoulder, pulling her close, “Okay, but… real talk.”
Sophia hums.
“What if she likes the letters? Like, really likes them!” Megan’s voice was hushed, as if it were a crime if someone else had heard it.
“Just use the word ‘love.’” Manon pats Megan’s back.
“Okay, then. What if Daniela loves the letters? Hm? What then?”
Sophia blinks. “Then I’m screwed!”
Manon turns to look at Sophia. Confusion was written all over her face. “That’s a bad thing?”
“Yes! Because if she loves them, then she’ll expect things! More compliments! More poetry! More accidentally sexy banter! I’m already running out of adjectives for her hair alone! I can’t deal with that!” Sophia stops in her tracks as she says all of those words in one breath.
The two girls stop as well, both of their attention is on Sophia.
Megan huffs, “No, you’re not.”
Sophia clears her throat. “…Okay, maybe I’m not running out of adjectives for her hair. But still… Also, what if she figures it out? What if I bump into her again and look at her wrong and she connects the dots like she’s Sherlock Holmes?”
Her thoughts were spiraling again.
Manon puts her hand on her hip. “She’s been at this school for how long and still doesn’t know who’s been writing the letters? I think you’re fine.”
Sophia looks at her with wild eyes. She raises both her hands up dramatically in the air, and Megan steps away from her.
“But I’m not! Because what if I already gave it away?! The curls compliment. The library seat thing. She’s smart. She could very well be sitting somewhere right now spiraling like I am—”
She was seconds away from gripping the lamppost beside her.
“I’ve dug my grave. I even decorated it with emotional vulnerability.” She snaps her head towards Megan. “Megan, say something at my funeral.”
“I’ll tell all the guests how big a raging homosexual you are and read all the letters you wrote to Daniela.” Megan deadpans, and Manon laughs loudly.
Sophia stares up at the sky before closing her eyes and whining. “I take it back. I’ll keep on living…”
—
Sophia is spiraling.
And she only knows one way to prevent herself from going insane.
Visiting the library.
It’s not like she hasn’t been in the library for a long time—she was there just yesterday when she was writing the letter for Daniela.
But that was exactly why it’s different. She was there to write Daniela a letter, but now, she wanted to go to the library and just read.
Just something to ease her mind. To brush off her worries and calm her senses.
She has been eyeing a book in the library for a while. She saw a few poetry books from a section she had yet to sift through.
Maybe when she’s done reading, she could grind through her workload, too.
Or finish a bunch of requests.
That could work, too.
She enters the library. The smell of books hit her as soon as she took a step. There were a few people there.
Not enough to crowd the place, which was just perfect.
Sophia’s already halfway through unzipping her bag when she looks up—
…and sees her.
Daniela Avanzini.
Curly hair in full glory. A book in her hands, eyes locked in concentration, curled into the seat like she belongs there.
Casually stealing Sophia’s seat for maybe the nth time, except this time, Sophia knows something Daniela doesn’t.
Sophia stops in her tracks, buffering, and then Daniela looks up.
Their eyes meet. And for a single stretched-out second, the world feels quiet—quieter than the library already is.
Daniela doesn’t look away. Not immediately. And Sophia doesn’t either.
It’s subtle, barely anything really—but Daniela’s brows lift just a tiny bit. Recognition. A flash of curiosity. Maybe even… a challenge?
Sophia blinks. Recovers.
With her usual calm, borderline smug expression, she gives a tiny, polite nod. Like they’re two strangers simply acknowledging each other. Like her heart isn’t beating out of her ribcage.
And without missing a beat, she pivots on her heel and walks to the other side of the library.
Sits down. Opens her laptop and takes a breath.
She didn’t even get to look for the book that she wanted to read. She just sat down and decided that maybe doing her homework and requests was the right thing to do today.
But in her mind… she was spiraling. Again.
“Don’t react. Stay chill. This is fine. She didn’t say anything. She doesn’t know. It’s just a seat. A stupid seat. One I literally mentioned in the letter yesterday— GOD.”
She shuts her eyes tightly, nose scrunching up as she holds onto her forehead.
Across the room, Daniela slightly lowers her book.
She stares at Sophia. Watching her silently as the girl with glasses worked on her laptop.
Daniela just saw her yesterday.
Her compliment echoed in Daniela’s head, and a small smile made its way to Daniela’s lips.
Sophia was nice. She never got into trouble—unless you want to count that one time where Manon and Megan accidentally set a random trash can on fire and Sophia held the lighter in her hands like a toddler being caught playing with scissors.
Or that time Megan broke the glass on the door in the cafeteria with Sophia’s left shoe.
Well, those weren’t really directly Sophia’s fault. She was just dragged into the mess. It was usually Megan and Manon who were up to something.
And of course, Daniela knows those things. She’d been studying in that same school for so long, she knew everybody on that campus.
But—Sophia.
She was quiet and smart. Never stuck her nose into anyone’s business.
And… Daniela doesn’t know anything else.
Sophia complimenting her curls was their first ever interaction.
Watching Sophia right now, Daniela had this strong and sudden urge to walk over to her and just talk to her.
But that would be weird.
So, Daniela looked back down at the book in her hands.
Before she continued, she did think of how odd it was to see the same person twice in a week.
Well, she has seen Sophia way before, but not two times in a row in one week.
The thought drifted away the same way it appeared in her mind.
And then she was back to reading.
Sophia didn’t think her life could be any difficult.
The next day, she sees Daniela in her spot again. Now Sophia has to sit at a different table.
It happens a few more times. Sometimes it would happen twice a day.
Daniela would be there at lunch with her friends, and then she’d be back after classes ended.
“Why the hell is she always in my seat??” Sophia would think to herself and huff, typing away on her laptop at a different spot inside the library.
Maybe Sophia jinxed it when she wrote it in the letter… or worse… maybe Daniela had figured it out.
Little does Sophia know that Daniela has been watching. Not her—but everyone.
She just wanted to see if someone would be sitting at the same spot every day. It turns out that a ton of students did that.
They all have their usual spots.
Daniela was cluelessly seated in Sophia’s former usual spot, once again reading something romantic and tragic. But lately, she’s noticed something…
Sophia.
She’s always at the library. She was probably the only familiar face Daniela saw in there aside from Manon and Megan when they hung out with Sophia.
But she’s there, always. Either alone or accompanied by her friends. She’s always quietly working on something.
Sometimes she’d be doodling in her sketchpad, reading books that Daniela isn’t familiar with, and then writing tons and tons of stuff.
Daniela wonders what other classes Sophia takes that cause her to write so much. It always seems like she’s writing an essay.
But that wasn’t the most interesting spot, no.
Sophia will be there, sure, but she’d be sitting in a different seat each time.
It wasn’t uncommon, sure.
Daniela just finds it… Rather, peculiar.
From her observations alone, most students have their own spots in the library. The same seat they always take and occupy each time they visit.
But Sophia would be sitting everywhere. Sometimes, she’d be closer to Daniela’s table; most times, she’d be at a different place, far from Daniela’s line of sight.
Yoonchae walks past and sits down beside her.
Lara was already occupying the other seat beside Daniela. She looks at Daniela for a few seconds before leaning in, “You’ve been staring at her for a few minutes now. Do you want me to get her number or something?”
Daniela rolls her eyes before turning to look at Lara, “I wasn’t staring. I was just thinking of something.”
Lara hums before chuckling.
No one says anything after that.
—
It didn’t take long for Daniela’s letter to appear once again inside locker 210.
This time, Sophia has the privilege of enjoying reading it alone without her friends teasing her about it.
Megan and Manon were busy with a group presentation with a few other students, so they couldn't miss it, or their groupmates would kick them out of the group.
That was fine. Sophia liked being alone at times.
It’s early evening. She’s at her usual off-the-radar library seat with her sketchpad open, an untouched pen in her hand, and the letter resting on top of her notebook like it’s a bomb she’s debating whether to defuse.
She’s lucky enough to finally be able to reclaim her spot after Daniela temporarily called it her own.
She finally opens the letter, and nothing could have prepared her for what the content of the letter was.
“Dear whoever,
You’re a menace, you know that?
I say it not in an angry way. I’m annoyed at you. Not in a sulking way. I’m annoyed at how well you read me and describe me in your letters.
How do you even know things about me? You say it’s not a love letter, but you describe me as if you’re painting me delicately with expensive paint and overpriced fine brushes. Like I’m something to hang in a museum, not a real person who messes up her lipstick and forgets to bring her calculator.
And yes, this is also me confirming that I do like art. I guess we do have a lot in common after all. Would it be too bold of me to assume that we might be made for one another? Yes? Too early? Okay. I’ll say I was joking then. (But I wasn’t, maybe. Who knows.)
I let my curls out. I received a handful of … backhanded compliments from people who always called me pretty. It sucked. But my friends love my curls, and you do, too. I’m taking that win.
Someone else even complimented me about it.
You must know her — Sophia Laforteza? She’s quite well-known. Smart girl in the school. She bumped into me and was nice about it. She complimented my curls as if it were the most normal thing in the world, like she didn’t mean anything by it.
It was nice. A nice change. I’ll have to thank you for that. (You win, I’m letting my curls see the light of day from now on.)
Also, speaking of bold — bold of you to assume that I’m not bold enough to look for your library spot. I wasn’t able to find you, though I had fun trying to guess which one among the students.
But really. Where do you even sit? The library is too big. I don’t even remember which seats I accidentally took from students, you’ve gotta help me out a little here.”
Sophia almost laughed. It was funny knowing that Daniela had taken her seat for the past few days without knowing that it was Sophia’s.
Without her knowing that it was her whom she was writing the letter to.
“Anyway, I reread your last letter more than once. I don’t know if you meant for it to be reread, but the way you write makes me want to underline sentences. The kind of lines that feel like they’re meant just for me. Maybe that’s why I keep reading. Or maybe it’s you.
You said you didn’t want to touch me — just to know me. That stuck. I couldn’t stop thinking about it the moment I read it.
It stuck in a way that made me pause and stare at the ceiling for a little too long. I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me. Not without wanting something in return.
So now I’m wondering — what do you want?
(Of course, I’ll be throwing that question back to you. It’s only fair for me to get curious, no?)
Yours,
—Still Guessing.”
Sophia doesn’t spiral when she finishes reading the letter.
She doesn’t have a violent reaction.
She doesn’t even panic or feel like she can’t breathe.
She felt her heart thump loudly like it jumped up to her throat when she saw her name on the letter.
It’s not like Daniela has confirmed that it was her. It’s not that.
It’s the way Daniela had mentioned her in passing. Like she blew through Daniela like the wind, and Daniela still managed to acknowledge her despite how common it is to feel air around you.
Daniela named her. Mentioned her like she was worth mentioning.
She wrote her name, Sophia Laforteza, in that perfect handwriting, along with words that were indirectly written for her.
Something about it made Sophia… feel too much.
And somehow, that just made everything even better.
Then she says words like: “Maybe that’s why I keep reading. Or maybe it’s you.”
It’s not something you can easily recover from.
But Sophia managed to keep her breathing steady as she read that part.
But she sighed and leaned back on her seat. “That’s illegal…”
She puts her head down on the desk. Manon and Megan aren’t even with her this time to witness her absolutely malfunctioning, which is maybe a blessing and a curse because she’s currently—
Speechless?
Unable to form cohesive thoughts?
She’d stutter if she tried to talk.
She thought she was the one being bold. She thought her poetic, almost-confessions, would be the most flustering part of this whole exchange.
But then Daniela had to go and write something like “Like I’m something to hang in a museum.”
Like, Sophia hasn’t literally sketched her from memory multiple times using unclear and wobbly lines. But it works.
Because that’s Daniela.
She’s two other things. She doesn’t make sense when you really see her.
She becomes clear when you do. But the lines don’t straighten, the shapes don’t become perfect, and she may have a face carefully sculpted by God, but she’s imperfect.
Like strings tangling up together despite not being touched. Like petals falling one by one as the days pass by.
And now Daniela’s asking what she wants.
Now she’s wondering aloud if they’re “made for one another.”
And maybe the other letters failed to shoot Sophia’s heart with Cupid’s pesky arrow, but… this one didn’t.
Now she’s reading between the lines and catching feelings and not hiding them anymore.
Sophia sits there, stunned, staring at the letter as if it had just proposed marriage.
“She’s actually trying to kill me.” She whispers to herself.
Because she knows— knows —that the next letter she writes has to be her best.
And worst of all?
She knows exactly what she wants now, too.
And it’s Daniela.
—
It’s already dark out. The library’s air conditioning is too cold. Sophia’s hair is slightly messy, and she’s still gripping the letter like it betrayed her and kissed her forehead after.
She stomps into the café near campus, where Manon and Megan are already waiting.
The first few words that left her mouth were “She’s trying to kill me.”
This alarmed both Manon and Megan a bit.
“…Okay… Hello to you, too?” Manon slowly said. Unsure of how to respond to that.
“Who? Are you being stalked?” Megan asked, frowning so hard her brows were literally meeting in the middle.
Sophia didn’t even sit down. She just dropped the letter dramatically on the table like it was court evidence. “Daniela. Avanzini. Miss ‘Smart Girl of the School’ is going to die because Daniela Avanzini just single-handedly ended me.”
Manon blinks. Megan is already reaching for the letter.
“Of course, she’d send another letter.” Manon finally says, eyeing the letter in Megan’s hand.
Sophia finally collapses into an empty seat in front of them like she just swam a marathon. “…I am unwell.”
They read the letter in silence. Slowly. Very slowly. The silence is so loud.
Then Megan just… slowly puts the letter down and says, voice completely flat:
“Not gonna lie, this feels like a confession already.”
Manon squinted her eyes and leaned further to read the letter again. “Right… she literally said ‘maybe it’s you’ that’s so fucking romantic.”
“She said she rereads my letters. And she said we might be made for each other??? Who says that? Like casually?? In a letter?” Sophia’s voice was muffled in her hands.
“Apparently, Daniela does. To you. While not knowing it’s you.” Manon says while laughing, “Also, that’s not casual!”
Megan waved the letter around, “Wait, did we just jump over this part?? Where she literally mentions you! Sophia Laforteza, she said! She mentioned the compliment! You have approximately five minutes before she finds out it’s you.”
Sophia suddenly snaps her head up. Eyes wide and looking scared. “No, don’t say that! She can’t find out! I need time! I need air! I need—“
Suddenly, she becomes serious as if she just turned off the ‘panic’ switch in her body. “Do you think she meant it when she said we might be made for one another, or was she just being poetic? Was it irony? Did she do it to mess with me? She’s not allowed to be this good at this.”
Megan let out a breathy laugh. “Girl. Babe. Baby girl. You literally said she’s a good writer.”
“I know! I just didn’t think she’d… weaponize it.”
Manon was grinning way too hard at this. “Maybe she’s just simply falling for you, you idiot.”
Sophia blinks.
She doesn’t know how to take that information in. That can’t be true, right?
“I won’t be surviving if that actually happens.”
—
Daniela wasn’t planning on checking her locker. Not really. But… there was something about today. A hunch. A tug in her chest. A little thrill in her stomach.
She opens it.
And sure enough, there it is. Folded cleanly, slid between the slats like a secret. A letter.
Lara and Yoonchae are just behind her, mid-conversation about coffee orders, when Daniela freezes.
Yoonchae raises a brow. “…Oh?”
Daniela snatches the letter and slams her locker shut with a thud. “Private. Very private. Don’t look at me.”
Lara playfully scoffs before laughing at her. “So dramatic.”
Daniela doesn’t even wait. She steps to the side, leans against the wall, and opens the letter with trembling hands.
“Dear Miss Daniela Avanzini,
Your letters are starting to pile up earlier than expected. You must be very eager to talk to me. I wouldn’t be surprised—I am irresistible like that.”
Her eyes widened. Her face? On fire. She nearly chokes by the third sentence.
“Ugh, cocky as always,” she whispers, smiling slightly.
“Already??” Lara asks, grinning. “What’s it say?”
“Not telling you.”
Daniela turns toward the wall like she’s reading state secrets. She’s kicking her heel against the floor, rereading lines like they personally wronged her.
“ But I can’t stop thinking about your last one. You’ve leveled up. Are you trying to one-up me at my own game? You can’t do that. I created this game, m’lady. I’m still winning.”
Her mind stops functioning for a second on the “m’lady” part. She exhales sharply, keeping herself calm.
She keeps reading. Each line is a punch to her soul.
“It’s good to hear you received compliments. As for those who gave you backhanded ones, I hereby sentence them to death row. They clearly don’t know what they’re talking about.
And on that matter, I’d love to see your brown curls again. Wonder if you’re ready to give up the bleach? I don’t mean to sound like the basic guys who throw around “pretty” like it’s currency. But with all due respect, you’re incredibly attractive with your natural hair color and curls.
Not that you don’t look good as a blonde—you do, you really do. I just prefer seeing you in your natural light. It brings out your eyes.
Speaking of, I love your hazel eyes. Please don’t wear contact lenses next. (This is a joke. If you’re blind and need them, who am I to stop you?)”
She short-circuits.
Yoonchae peers at her expression. “…You’re turning red. Like cartoon-level red. Are you okay?”
“I am not okay,” Daniela mutters. “This is war.”
“You sure are bold for thinking I’d give you another hint. My library spot is already a dead giveaway—it’s just a matter of where and who. But I’ll admit, I applauded you for showing up at the library a few days in a row. (Again, not a creep. I just like books. And maybe the girl who also likes books.)
And so, you’ve finally confirmed you like art. How about a challenge? Nothing serious—I just want to test your art skills. And sure, maybe you could say this is me asking you on a date. No, you won’t be seeing me just yet, so calm your horses. I have other plans. Let’s collab on something.
If you’re interested, write back. But I doubt you won’t.
You already like me.
Now you’re finally wondering what I want.
I’m afraid I can’t tell you yet.
What you want is what matters more—for now.
This letter is about you, after all. :)
But hey… You can go ahead and assume that maybe—just maybe—you’re what I want in the spaces between these letters.
Maybe there’s proof there.
It’s just a maybe, though.
Yours,
but not really.”
Daniela almost slams the letter against the wall. Almost.
She wanted to slide down the wall, but she fought the strong urge to. Instead, she turns to her friends.
“They—I—They just wrote— fuck, I can’t even say anything properly!” She stumbled through her words.
“Is this your way of saying that you’re into them, now?” Lara said, calm as ever.
“Into them??” Daniela says, voice shrill. “I want to meet them. I want to see them. I want to sue them for emotional damage. I want to— I want to write back. Like, now.”
Yoonchae grins. “Go write, lover girl.”
Daniela scrambles upright, clutches the letter like a lifeline, and starts speed-walking down the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Lara calls.
“To the library!” Daniela calls back. “I have a war to win!”
“So…” Yoonchae starts as they watch Daniela literally run for the library. “We both agree that she’s in love, right?”
Lara hums, meeting Yoonchae’s gaze. “Definitely.”
—
Daniela enters the library with a mission… Only to be humbled immediately.
She’s still reeling from the letter. Blushing. Spiraling. Trying not to skip through the library halls like she’s in a coming-of-age film. The words are playing on repeat in her mind:
“You can go ahead and assume that maybe—just maybe—you’re what I want in the spaces between these letters.”
She groans softly, clutches the paper to her chest, and pushes open the library doors.
Every single table is full. Students are whispering, typing, and flipping through textbooks. Everywhere.
“Seriously?” she mutters, scanning the rows.
And then—she spots it. A table with one free seat. Three people are already sitting there.
It wouldn’t hurt to ask if she could occupy that spot, wouldn’t it? She won’t even be staying long. She just has to write the letter, maybe linger for a little bit to look for her secret person.
Yeah. That isn’t a bad plan.
She marches over.
“Excuse me, can I—?”
Then she freezes.
Sophia. Manon. Megan.
The three of them look up. Megan is mid-sip of her water bottle. Manon’s got her head in her hands, math worksheets splayed out. Sophia, calm as ever, has a pen twirling in her fingers, gaze lifting lazily until—
Daniela and Sophia lock eyes.
Daniela clears her throat, “Oh. Hi. Can I sit here?”
And Sophia. Short-circuits. A tiny blink. Then another.
Then she smiles—slow, smooth, as if her heart isn’t hammering against her ribcage.
“…Sure,” Sophia says. “Seat’s free.”
Manon kicks her under the table. Sophia bites her lip.
Daniela, too prideful to back down now, nods like it’s nothing and sits across from Sophia. Quietly takes out her notebook. Quietly takes out a pen.
Why is it that she’s become hyperaware? It’s just Sophia and her friends.
Maybe it was because Sophia liked her curls. She’s still flattered by it to this day.
Megan’s eyes are screaming across the table. Manon has the widest smirk known to man.
They sit there like a ticking bomb, tension so thick it could be cut with a letter opener.
But it seems that Daniela had gotten over it quickly. Only the three other girls could feel the tension.
It’s the cons of knowing and the pros of not knowing.
Sophia pretends to read. She’s actually rereading the last letter in her head and questioning every choice she’s ever made.
Megan leans toward Manon and whispers, “If they start flirting through eye contact, I’m leaving.”
Manon whispers back, “No, you’re not. You’re gonna sit here and witness history. ”
Daniela calmly writes across the top of the paper:
“Dear whoever,”
Sophia sees it from across the table. Immediately biting her lip harder this time.
Her foot snaps to the side and stomps down on Manon’s foot under the table with the grace of a panicking giraffe.
Manon let out this muffled coughing sound before groaning lowly. She was trying her best not to scream.
And maybe also trying her best not to kill Sophia right then and there.
Megan flinches, almost knocking her drink over. “What the hell??” She hisses at them.
Manon glares at Sophia, ready to end her bloodline.
Sophia doesn’t even look up. She subtly slides her phone out, unlocks it, and opens the group chat.
[Locker 210 writing department / tortured poets society]
Sophia 🤓:
SHES WRITING THE LETTER IN FRONT OF ME
SHE JUST WROTE “DEAR WHOEVER”
IM SWEATING. ACTUALLY SWEATING
Manon 😝:
U DIDNt HAVE TO STEP ON ME ASSHOLE
THAT WAS MY GEWD FOOT!
Megan 🤪:
CHILL.
IF YOU KEEP ACTING POSSESSED SHES GOING 2 NOTICE!!!!!!
She’s like a hawk when she’s in a mood…
Sophia ur not safe
Sophia 🤓:
FAWK AWF
Why is SHE WRITING SO CALMLY
she looks so ..
She looks focused
And pretty
This is unfair
Manon 😝:
Cuz ur in love with her 😩✋
Sophia 🤓:
SSHUTUP
SHUT TEH FUCK UP RN
Ok. Calming down now. I’m chill. Totally chill
Megan 🤪:
Deep breaths!
In through your nose
Out through the fact that the girl you’re in love with is writing a love letter to you in front of you
Sophia 🤓:
THATS NOT HELPINGG
Daniela is still writing, unfazed. She pauses once to think, and Sophia freezes.
Their eyes almost meet, but Daniela just blinks once and goes back to writing.
Sophia silently gulps. Manon is massaging her foot with a pained grimace. Megan is on the verge of laughing through her nose.
It’s a war of nerves, and Daniela? Calm. Cool. Collected.
Sophia? Barely holding it together with a single thread of self-control and a caffeine crash on the way.
Sophia’s absolutely suffering.
She tries to focus on her work, but she forgets what she is going to write and which page she is on.
She opens a new book, something about 19th-century art movements—but she hasn’t read a single word.
She only stared at the page. Her eyes ran through the words like she was navigating through a maze.
Her mind couldn’t even process a single word.
Because right there— across the table —Daniela is scribbling away in her loopy, confident handwriting.
Absolutely unbothered. Clueless and unaware of what she was doing to Sophia.
Without warning, she drops her head straight into the book. Not carefully. Not gracefully. Just— fwomp.
Manon and Megan stare at her with furrowed brows and concerned eyes.
“…Sophia what the fuck…” Megan whispers.
She’s now got her entire face pressed into the pages, pretending she’s reading, when really, she’s willing the earth to open up and take her.
Daniela pauses and stares at Sophia. She blinks, looking confused and at the same time, concerned.
She doesn’t ask, though.
She looks elsewhere, clearing her throat before looking back down. She was almost done with the letter. She just needed to write a few more.
Sophia shoots Megan and Manon a look.
Like she was asking for help or asking to be dragged out of there, but her friends couldn’t understand what she wanted to say.
So they stayed there. Stiff and stuck to their seats.
It didn’t take long for Daniela to finish writing her letter. She rereads it once, head tilted, lips pursed in thought, then calmly folds the page into a neat square and tucks it away. She doesn’t put it in an envelope this time.
She glances around casually, eyes scanning the corners, the tucked-away tables, and familiar shelves.
“Okay. I’ve tried sitting by the window. That one seat near the Language and Linguistics section. And the study carrels… Still no clue who this person is. But maybe… maybe they’re here now.”
She subtly looks around again—eyes briefly passing over Megan and Manon, who are pretending to be deep in concentration, then glancing at Sophia.
Who is, once again, hiding behind her book like it’s a damn shield.
Daniela lets her eyes linger on Sophia for just a bit.
She’s been seeing Sophia more and more recently. Mostly in the library, like right now.
It makes sense. Sophia’s the “smart girl.”
Daniela doesn’t dwell on it, though. Instead, she looks back down and discreetly slips her letter underneath a familiar book on the “For Pick-Up” shelf near the returns counter—her usual hiding spot.
Sophia refused to look up from her book. Despite knowing that Daniela is probably not looking at her.
Her mind has just been racing with thoughts about Daniela.
She’s paranoid.
She thinks Daniela notices how weird she’s been acting. She thinks Daniela’s watching her, vibe-checking her. She thinks Daniela is suspicious.
She thinks Daniela knows.
But Daniela doesn’t.
She peeks up through her lashes just in time to see Daniela get up, walk away with her bag, and casually tuck something between the books on the shelf.
Sophia watches her intently. Daniela looks around for a bit before finally leaving.
Sophia blinks, adjusting her glasses. “Wait… she’s…leaving the letter?” she thought to herself.
She straightens up just a little.
Manon looks at her, then. “What. Is she gone?” she whispers lowly.
“She left the letter. SHE LEFT IT.” Sophia whisper-shouts.
“Okay, but calm down, maybe it’s not even for you—”
“MEGAN.” Sophia cuts her off.
Megan stifles her laughter, “Okay, yeah, sorry, it’s 100% for you, go get it, queen.”
Sophia waits exactly 45 seconds before getting up like it’s no big deal. She grabs a random book from the shelf nearby just for show, and then quickly snatches the letter like it’s a high-stakes spy mission.
Back at the table, she sits and stares at it.
“Open it, drama queen,” Manon says, gesturing towards the letter.
Sophia shushes her, “I’m savoring the moment.”
On the other hand, Daniela walks down the hallway. She pulls her phone out and immediately starts chatting in their group chat.
[The trenches]
Dani🏃♀️:
I left the letter in the library
Lara🤠:
What
Why would u do that
Yoonchae🧍♀️:
What??? Why?
Dani🏃♀️:
I know they saw me. I’m sure they’re there.
Yoonchae🧍♀️:
But what if they weren't and someone else picks it up?
Dani🏃♀️:
Then I’m cooked
Lara🤠:
Girl 😭
—
Sophia sits with the letter unfolded in her lap, eyes scanning the words so fast but so intensely, her pupils are practically vibrating.
“Dear whoever,
Your compliments are getting a little too bold. You sure are something. You say that you’re not in love with me, but you flatter me with words no one has ever thought of saying to me.
Yes. My letters are starting to pile up. Is my clinginess bothering you? If it is, then poor you. I doubt you’d get rid of me fast. You enjoy writing letters with me, I can tell. (This is me flirting if you haven’t noticed.)
You say I look good with my natural hair. That it brings out my eyes. Would you want me to send you a picture? So you can keep staring at me, that is. Or maybe I can give up the bleach since you seem to love to admire me from afar. You must’ve been studying in this school as long as I have if you’ve seen me with my natural brown hair and curls.
Something about that just… makes me feel warm inside. Like the thought of having someone know me this well has been around me before I even knew…
It’s comforting. You’re comforting.
Am I flirting with you properly now? Do I flatter you the same way you flatter me? I hope so. If not, then I’ll just have to step up my game even more.
How did you even know I have hazel eyes? From afar, my friends say it looks brown. When you mention things like these, it makes me want to know what you look like. What your hair color is, your eye color… everything. If you don’t want to give me more hints about your library spot, then at least give me tiny descriptions of yourself.
I also wrote this in the library. I know you’re here. I just don’t know who you are among these students. I’m going to purposely leave this in between a book. If I get a reply from you, then that’s my confirmation that you really were here in the library with me.
And wow, look at you, finally asking me on a date. Plus, charming points for you. I love a confident person. Hope you’re as confident in person, though!
And… well, you can’t just say I can assume that I’m what you want. Don’t fuck with my brain like that. Now I’m going to be delusional about it…
But you…
You really do care about me, huh? The fact that you can turn the topic towards me in just a few words within a letter is impressive. You talk to me as if I’m the only one who deserves to be heard in these letters.
I’m accepting your invitation, by the way, if that wasn’t obvious enough.
You never fail to make my heart skip a beat :)
I’ll keep on wondering and thinking about it, if it’s true that I am the one you want in between the spaces of your letters.
Maybe I’ll look for proof.
And maybe you can guess what I want next.
Yours,
DA”
Her heart actually skips. Her hand shoots out involuntarily and grips Manon’s thigh under the table.
“Ouch! What the hell—“
But before Manon can react properly, Sophia makes a small, choked sound in her throat—like a squeal, gasp, and internal scream all rolled into one—and claps both hands over her mouth.
Too late.
Megan and Manon whip their heads around.
“Sophia—“
Sophia let out a scream.
A muffled scream against her hands.
It sounded like she muffled the sound within her as if her throat had closed.
It wasn’t that loud. It wasn’t distracting. It was just concerning for both of her friends.
“She’s going to fucking combust. She’s malfunctioning.” Manon says, breathing through her nose as she judges Sophia silently.
“That’s a whole ass factory reset, not a malfunction.” Megan corrected, leaning against Manon as they both looked at Sophia.
“She said I made her heart skip a beat. ” Sophia hisses. She was seconds away from pounding her hand against the table.
If they weren’t in the library, she would have done that already.
Sophia turns dramatically and plants her face into the table—not the book this time, the hard wooden surface. There’s a light thud and a soft groan of pain as she mutters something unintelligible into the desk.
Megan and Manon share a look.
“Should we help her? Is this a concern? An emergency?” Megan asks, blinking slowly.
Manon slowly shakes her head, “Let her… that’s got to be the price she has to pay for having such a dramatic love life.”
Sophia finally lifts her head up, just slightly. “She said I comfort her. She said she wants to know what I look like. She said she’s accepting my art date. She—She’s flirting BACK.“
“Okay, but like… she doesn’t know it’s you, babe.”
Sophia suddenly sat upright, startling Manon and Megan. “Yet.”
She folds the letter back up with trembling fingers, tucks it close to her chest like it’s some ancient scroll of treasure, and leans back like she’s just finished a 10k marathon. “I need water. And air. And maybe therapy.”
Megan smirks, “Or maybe you just need a kiss from her.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up!”
—
It was finally the end of the week. Sophia can finally relax, catch up on some book reading, and finish requests before locker 210 floods with papers and more cash.
Except… Sophia can’t do any of those, yet.
The bleachers are packed, students cheering, waving flags, and someone already has a drum. Sophia’s just sitting there, hoodie up, arms crossed, visibly unimpressed as men in tight uniforms run around a field throwing a ball.
They’re at the football game.
That Sophia gives no fucks about.
“Why am I here? Why am I watching men roll around in sweat when I could be at home inhaling book dust?” She grumbles, brows furrowing as the sun glares down at them.
Manon bumps her shoulder against Sophia’s. She wears an easy smile on her lips. “Because we needed an excuse to drag you out of your love letter fantasy dimension.”
“And also we brought snacks. Look.“ Megan shakes the bag of chips in front of Sophia’s face like it was bait.
Sophia sighs, grabs one, and mutters, “Fine.”
She takes a bite, looks around lazily—and then she freezes. Her jaw goes slack, chip halfway to her mouth.
“…woah??” Sophia says in a hoarse whisper. “Holy fuck.”
Megan turns her head towards Sophia, “What?”
Manon looks around the field, trying to see what Sophia was looking at. “Did someone get tackled?”
Sophia stared from afar, looking stunned. Maybe in awe, too. “No… it’s…”
Her friends look at her expectantly.
“Her hair… It’s brown. It’s curly. It’s—she dyed it back.”
Manon turns her head, and she squints before her eyes widen. “Wait… wait! Holy crap! Is that Daniela?!”
After a few seconds, Megan sees it, too. She leans forward, and her mouth opens slightly. “Wow. She looks…”
“Like she stepped out of my letters.” Sophia unconsciously said, still in a trance.
Daniela is just a few rows below, standing with Lara and Yoonchae. She’s laughing at something Lara says, curls bouncing, sunlight catching the golden hints in her natural hair.
She’s wearing a white crop top, big denim pants that are a bit loose around her waist, and her hazel eyes are clearly visible when she glances up at the crowd. Thanks to the sun.
Suddenly, Sophia forgot what she was complaining about earlier. Her thoughts have reset. Her desire to go home and rest was no longer there because she wanted to be there.
To stay there underneath the sun. She had her hoodie on despite the heat, and she wouldn’t complain.
Because Daniela looked stunning and Sophia… for once in her life, couldn’t construct a proper sentence. Sophia, who knew more words than half the school, forgot what else she could call Daniela.
Her gaze alone was telling enough.
Daniela was breathtaking. Ethereal. Ravishing.
And then— for one horrifying second— she looks up and in Sophia’s direction no less.
Sophia yeets herself sideways.
“SOPHIA.” Manon gasps, startled by Sophia’s sudden movement. She grabbed Sophia in return.
“She looked—she LOOKED UP! I panicked—“
Megan laughed at her teasingly. “You threw your soul out of your body like you owed it rent.”
Sophia lowers her body, crouching down beside Manon and burying her face in her knees. “I’m gonna die. I’m actually going to die. She dyed her hair for me. She probably doesn’t know she did it for me, but SHE DID. SHE DID.”
Manon looked down at her, scoffing playfully. “Should we send flowers to your grave or just your ashes in a letter box?”
Meanwhile, Daniela had looked behind her just because she wanted to…
Okay, maybe because she was checking if she’d be able to find her secret admirer amongst the crowd. Maybe if she kept looking around, her own admirer would see her.
And that would be enough for Daniela, for now.
She didn’t see anyone.
Of course, she wouldn’t be able to see anyone who would act obvious.
“What are you looking at?” Lara’s voice suddenly stopped her from looking around.
“Oh,” she turns and smiles at Lara, “Nothing…just checking to see where I could walk to buy water.”
Lara hums before quickly changing the subject, “I love your hair, by the way.”
Yoonchae chimed in, smiling cutely. “Yeah! I was about to say that! You look like your old self again.”
That made Daniela’s heart swell. She smiles back at her two friends. “Yeah, thank you. Someone… Someone told me they missed this look.”
Her voice was soft. She sounded shy, and both Lara and Yoonchae picked up on it.
“Is it the letter person, perhaps?” Lara says while watching her intently. Checking to see if Daniela reacts flustered.
Without thinking, Daniela nodded slowly, “Yeah…”
Yoonchae stares at her, grin growing wider. “Oooohhhh….”
“I mean—you guys already know this!” She whines, slapping Lara’s knee.
Unbeknownst to Daniela. Her secret admirer is just a few seats above her, burying her face against Manon’s shoulder.
Having a full-blown breakdown at the same time. “I need to write her a letter tonight. A long one. With adjectives. And art metaphors. Maybe a haiku.”
“Maybe a sedative.” Manon deadpans.
Megan tore the chips bag open. “Write the damn letter. You owe her one.”
Twenty minutes later, the game rages on outside—distant shouting, cheers, whistles. But inside the quiet corridor of the building, it’s peaceful. The hum of fluorescent lights, the soft whir of the vending machine.
Sophia finds herself inside the school building.
She stood in front of a very specific vending machine. It wasn’t the normal one, where there were different drinks in it.
This one only had one specific drink, and it was Sophia’s absolute favorite.
Yakult.
She grew up drinking Yakult in the Philippines, along with her other favorite, Soursop juice or Guyabano.
She exhales deeply as the first Yakult clunks down into the tray.
She buys another and another as she mutters to herself. “One for Manon, one for Megan, four for me. Five. Six, maybe. Seven if I feel like sharing. Which I won’t.”
She crouches and starts shoving the bottles into her hoodie pockets. They’re full to the brim now—she looks like a very cozy, very lumpy Yakult smuggler.
She stands back up, still adjusting the bottles so they don’t fall out. She turned to leave until she heard footsteps.
Echoing lightly down the tiled hallway.
Sophia glances over her shoulder. Her heart skips, then does a full triple axel.
Because there, walking in from the entrance, framed by the daylight behind her like some cruel, ethereal romcom setup, is Daniela.
Her brown curls were soft around her face, cheeks slightly pink from walking around in the sun. There’s a water bottle in her hand, a phone in the other.
She looks up—and locks eyes with Sophia.
Sophia completely malfunctions.
And then suddenly, one Yakult falls out of her hoodie pocket.
It made a loud “PLOP” sound as it collided with the floor.
And then, like dominoes, everything else falls out. It all made the plopping sound louder.
They roll across the floor, bouncing, scattering like tiny dairy grenades in slow motion.
Sophia froze in her spot, eyes wide at the yakults that were now all over the tiles beside her feet. Frozen like she just got betrayed.
“…no.”
Daniela was startled by what happened. She didn’t expect something to fall out of Sophia’s hoodie pockets.
Sophia just stands there, unmoving, hoodie sagging now that all her secret hoard has abandoned her, bottles still clinking softly on the tile.
Daniela looks at the Yakult bottles… then up at Sophia… then down again.
Sophia has never wanted to evaporate more violently in her life.
And Daniela?
She smiles.
Her smile grew wider until it turned into a sudden laugh, quick and surprised. Her hand quickly flew to cover her mouth.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for laughing, I—“
Sophia blinked, Daniela’s voice snapping her out of her frozen state. “No, it’s fine! Uhm… I…”
She trails off as her brain hits a blue screen because Daniela’s crouched down, curls bouncing slightly as she reaches for the fallen Yakult bottles, sunlight catching on her skin, cheeks still warm from earlier.
Sophia can’t stop looking.
“I really like… Yakult.”
Daniela looks up, amused.
“Yeah, I figured.”
She stands back up with a few bottles in her hand and gently starts placing them back into Sophia’s hoodie pockets. Sophia watches her like she’s in a daze, mouth slightly open, arms awkwardly stiff at her sides.
Daniela has a faint smile on her lips as she does this. Sophia opens her mouth but closes it when she doesn’t come up with words.
Instead, she moves her hands. She widens the hole of her hoodie pocket as Daniela places the yakults one by one.
“You should get a plastic bag next time. Or—well, I guess the hoodie works.” Daniela offers her a smile as she holds one Yakult bottle in one hand, and her other hand is holding her phone and a water bottle.
Sophia doesn’t respond right away, just stares.
Her eyes trail from Daniela’s hands to her face. To the wild, warm brown curls that cascade around her shoulders.
Daniela shifts a little under the gaze, her smile faltering as a small insecurity creeps up—does she look okay? Is this too much hair? Too messy? Does she look sweaty from the heat earlier?
But Sophia blinks and breaks the silence like it’s the most obvious truth in the world.
“Your hair is crazy—“
Daniela blinks, a little stunned.
“In a good way. Like big, aggressive waves.” Sophia clarifies.
A few seconds go by without any of them talking.
And then Sophia speaks up again.
“You look… pretty.” She says. Voice softer.
Daniela’s heart skips. She opens her mouth to say something, but no words come out.
She hears that word all the time. Pretty.
From strangers. From classmates. From admirers and suitors.
But this time?
It sinks in. Like warmth sliding down her spine. Like a hug enveloping her slowly, giving her comfort.
And it feels real. So real.
Daniela looks at her. Stunned, quiet.
Sophia shifts slightly, trying to look casual, like she didn’t just throw the most heartfelt compliment into the air like a grenade.
And as if that couldn’t get any better, Sophia opens her mouth again.
“… it brings out your eyes. The brown. The curls.” Sophia’s eyes looked hesitant, like she was scared of what Daniela would do.
But she blinks and continues, “It just… suits you more.”
“Oh…”
It slips out before she can stop it. Quiet, fragile. Like her heart just got hit with an arrow she didn’t see coming.
She looks down, fingers loosely holding the Yakult she picked up for Sophia earlier. Her cheeks are warm, but it’s not the sun this time.
It’s Sophia. The way she looked at her was hesitant, but she meant every word. Like she saw her—not the curated version, not the filtered photos, not the attention-grabbing outfits—but her.
Sophia called her pretty without the straightened, bleached hair.
And that was…
Well, it was something.
And meanwhile, Sophia straightens up.
That one breathless “oh” from Daniela does something to her—restores her entire ego.
But she was still unsure how to act. She just blurted out those words to Daniela without even thinking.
“I—Sorry, was that weird?”
Daniela stares at her for a moment before shaking her head, “Oh, no! I just…” she let out a sigh that sounded a bit like a chuckle and a huff. “That’s… I appreciate that.”
Then she smiles. This time, soft but real.
Sophia clears her throat, her grin curling at the edges now. Not cocky. Just soft. Playful. Confident in that quiet, knowing way. Because Daniela doesn’t know. Doesn’t know who she is.
Doesn’t know she’s already been writing love letters to the same girl she’s smiling at now.
That gives Sophia just enough nerve to lean forward slightly and gently press two more Yakult bottles into Daniela’s hands.
“You should keep your hair that way,” Sophia says lightly, and their fingers brush briefly.
Daniela doesn’t move. She watches her, wide-eyed and still stunned.
Sophia turns on her heel like she didn’t just wreck a whole girl’s nervous system, walking slowly back toward the field—her hoodie lumpy and sloshing with Yakult bottles.
Each step makes a quiet noise, but Sophia doesn’t care. She’s grinning now. Victorious.
Daniela’s still standing there. Holding one tiny bottle of Yakult in one hand, like Sophia had just handed her a bouquet.
And her heart? Absolutely not okay.
Sophia returns to the bleachers with her hoodie looking like a damn sack of baby drinks.
The bottles rattle with every step, and it’s a miracle she isn’t leaking probiotic juice on the floor.
Manon and Megan spot her instantly.
“You stupid bitch. You bought more Yakult?” Manon deadpans.
Megan was aghast, eyes wide. “You’re going to get diarrhea again!”
“I love Yakult! Shut up!” Sophia waves them off, sounding defensive.
She dramatically shoves herself back onto the bleachers, hoodie sloshing, and takes a big triumphant gulp from one of the bottles like she just accomplished a mission.
There’s a goofy smile on her lips when she’s done downing one Yakult bottle like it was a shot.
Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are all twinkly, which only makes Manon squint at her suspiciously.
“…You’re smiling weirdly. What happened?” Manon asks as she eyes Sophia. She was watching her every move.
When Sophia only smiled at her, Manon asked again. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
Sophia’s smile turned into a smug grin. “Who’s to say?”
Megan groans and snatches a bottle out of her hoodie. “You are such a loser, Soph.”
Daniela walks back to the crowd a little later with slightly shaky hands and her mind spinning.
She plops back down beside Lara and Yoonchae, who both immediately notice the way her expression is a little too dazed. The faint pink in her cheeks. The three Yakult bottles in her hands.
Yoonchae has her eyebrows raised when Daniela comes back, “Where’d you go? You took so long.”
Lara notices the Yakult bottles in her hand, and she points at them immediately. “And why do you have three yakults? I thought you were just buying water?”
Daniela blinks at the bottles in her lap like she’s just remembered they exist.
“Oh. Right. Someone just… complimented how I looked and gave me three yakults.”
There was a pause.
A short one.
But enough for Yoonchae and Lara to share a look. A confused look.
“… That’s cute.” Yoonchae comments, and Lara nods.
They both giggle, nudging each other. Daniela lets out a breathy laugh too, clutching the bottles tighter like they’re a gift from a fairy.
But neither of them asks who it is. They just let her have this little bubble of a moment. And Daniela leans back in her seat, heart still playing hopscotch, thinking:
She said I should keep my hair this way…
And that maybe…
Maybe the person writing me letters was right.
And Sophia looked at me like she meant it.
—
“Dear Miss Andrea,
(yes, I know your second name. It’s cute.)
Then it’s a date! You agreed! Lovely.
I saw you, by the way. Nice to see you finally dropped the bleach. You look stunning. Yeah, sure, laugh at me for not being so poetic in this letter. But it’s the truth.
I really like your hair that way. Maybe I should stop using the word ‘like’ and just commit to what I’ve always wanted to say.
I love it. The way you look. And I told you, it brings out your eyes.
You are stunning, Daniela.
I hope you keep your hair that way without getting insecure because of the way people look at you.
If you’d have seen me—
I wonder if the way I look at you would be enough for you to keep your natural hair? Not to be cocky or anything…
But I would stare at you like you’re the sun and the moon combined.
Like an eclipse. It’s rare. And so are you. :)
Oh, and speaking of look. Sure, I’ll give you a hint.
I have brown eyes. I know, it's very common. I have brown hair. Vague, isn’t it?
Now you have to look at every brown-haired, brown-eyed student in school and guess if it’s me. Have fun with that.
You’re flirting well, by the way. Good job, princess.
You had me needing oxygen after reading your letter in the library—which was embarrassing, by the way.
My friend had to cover my mouth. Literally. (You owe her a thank you. She saved my reputation.)
Does that count as me getting flattered the way I flatter you? I hope it does.
I did see you writing in the library. I saw you slip the letter into a book. That was risky, by the way. I’m happy I was there to actually get the letter, or else you would have had a different pen pal by now.
And me? Care? About you? Hm. Sure. You could say that. :)
Also, about me possibly wanting you—Have you looked for proof yet? I doubt you’ve seen any. But I’ll give you proof.
Our date will be at the art room at 4 PM on Friday. It’s unoccupied. I won’t tell you the details here. You’ll just see when you’re finally there.
And sure.
I’ll guess what you yearn for.
But would it also be bold of me to assume if it’s me in between the ellipses on your letters? For each comma and period written in your letters?
Maybe somewhere in them, it’s me.
Yours,
Whoever.”
And Daniela stares at the letter for a solid minute.
She reads it again. And again.
It felt weird reading the letter now. Their words just sounded and looked… familiar.
But Daniela couldn’t pinpoint what was familiar about it.
It’s just the same feeling of warmth slipping through her spine. Maybe deep in her subconscious, she knows that she’s seen her secret admirer already.
Maybe she knows that she’s close to finding out who they are.
Maybe… just maybe.
—
Friday, 4:03 PM.
Daniela steps into the quiet, high-ceilinged room, her curls still slightly damp from her afternoon shower after sweating her ass off for gym class, bouncing lightly as she walks in.
There’s a faint scent of paint and turpentine in the air, and the light filtering in through the windows casts golden shadows across the tiled floor.
She was a bit late, but she hoped it wouldn’t be a problem for her secret admirer. It was only for a couple of minutes anyway.
She’s alone. No one in sight.
Her eyes scan the space.
And then she sees it.
The wall on the left side is freshly painted white. There were papers neatly placed all over the floor.
Despite looking freshly painted, there were tiny splotches of color on it. Blue, yellow, and purple. It bursts across the wall like fireworks, all clashing with one another, chaotic yet purposeful.
All the canvases and easels were pushed to the other side of the room. Neatly placed beside each other.
It was obvious that Daniela’s secret admirer had prepared for this moment.
There were buckets of paint beside the white wall and a few brushes lying around the papers. There’s a yellow note stuck to the very center of the wall like a sore thumb.
“You love art. Use the sticky notes on the table at the back and write whatever you want. Stick it on the wall. Talk to me, communicate with me, or use the paint and paint me something.
—whoever.”
Daniela bites back a smile, her heart skipping in delight.
She grabs a brush.
Without thinking too hard, she dips it in a shocking shade of magenta and throws it against the “canvas” with a laugh.
Then she adds a streak of electric blue across the top. Her strokes are fast, wild, and messy—and it’s the most fun she’s had in weeks.
She’s grinning, her hands covered in color, and she glances at the door once or twice… but no one ever enters.
Still, she’s smiling.
Once she was satisfied with what she’d done with the paint, she turned and grabbed the pack of sticky notes on the table, ripped one off, and wrote on it.
“Is this your form of courting?”
There’s a playful smile on her lips as she writes it before slapping it on the wall beside the sticky note that her secret admirer had left.
Then she takes another one.
She thinks about what she could write on it.
She stares at the paper, trying to come up with something, when her hands instinctively touch the end of her curls.
It’s a habit she’d always do whenever she was thinking.
Then it hits her.
The memory of the student, Sophia Laforteza, complimenting her curls and fumbling yakults in front of her like she was stealing from a house.
She laughs at the memory.
Then she writes:
“Do you like Yakult? Have you ever tried one? Someone gave me one last time. It just never left my mind…”
Then she sticks it to the wall with her hand running over the edges of the note, putting pressure on it so it sticks and doesn’t fall off.
She takes a few steps away from the wall, admiring how chaotic it looks.
“You’re good. Whoever you are, you’re good.” She whispers to the wall, pertaining to her secret admirer as if they’d be there to hear her.
And as she turns to leave, she glances back at the painting one last time—now her colors blending into the rest.
She already can’t wait for the next note.
Chapter 3: I feel seen, only through you
Notes:
Legit just followed people on twitter because I saw them mentioning my fic and my ao3 username lmao erm if y’all are here hello
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The hallway falls quiet.
Then the door to the art room slowly creaks open.
Sophia peeks her head in, making sure the coast is clear before she fully steps into the room. She had taken off her hoodie and glasses for the meantime.
Now, she only had a white shirt on, her hands shoved inside her black cargo pants, which had too many paint stains on them.
There’s the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she makes her way to the middle of the room.
She stands there and stares up at the wall that she had just painted white a few hours earlier.
She sees the vibrant new splashes on the wall, just above the little splotches of paint she flicked on the wall with a small brush.
The new paint was magenta and electric blue.
Sophia’s smile stretches into a wide, stupid grin.
“She actually did it,” she mumbles, cheeks pink as she looks at the messy new additions.
Her gaze trails the wide arc of the blue brushstroke, remembering exactly how Daniela looked when she threw it—eyes bright, curls bouncing, laughing under her breath like a child given a blank wall to ruin.
Sophia sighs dramatically and leans against the table, swooning.
“She’s so fucking cute,” she mutters, like she’s scolding herself.
And she’s just standing there, smiling like an idiot, looking at the wall like it’s a love letter.
Well, it is kind of like a love letter.
She doesn’t even realize how long she’s been staring.
Eventually, she stands upright. She stares at the two new additions of sticky notes on the wall. She was quick to walk up to it and read what Daniela had written.
“Is this your form of courting?”
She chuckles at that before turning her attention to the second one.
“Do you like Yakult? Have you ever tried one? Someone gave me one last time. It just never left my mind…”
She freezes on the spot.
Daniela was asking her about Yakult. She even mentioned someone giving her one.
Sophia knows it’s her that Daniela was referring to.
This is the second time Daniela has mentioned her in her writings.
It was just…
It was as if Daniela was getting closer to finding out who she is. But at the same time, Daniela is still far away.
Sophia let out a shaky sigh.
She goes and takes the sticky notes and writes Daniela a reply.
”Only if you wish to be mine. :)”
Sophia sticks it beside Daniela’s first question about courting. Then she writes another one for the other question about Yakult.
“I grew up drinking Yakult, and yes, I like it. I love it, even.
Why do you ask?”
Sophia wasn’t supposed to write the last part. She didn’t even want to ask Daniela because of the fear that Daniela might say something more about Sophia Laforteza.
About her.
And Sophia’s not ready to know what Daniela thought of her.
Not ready to be perceived.
Because without her words, Sophia would be nothing to Daniela.
She shakes the thoughts aside. She doesn’t want to dwell on the idea. Not yet, at least.
Eventually, she grabs a marker from the nearby tray and, right beside Daniela’s sticky notes, she scribbles a tiny sun.
A secret signature.
She scribbles a few more small things.
A letter. An envelope. And a smiley face.
Her eyes linger on it for a second before she turns and leaves. She figured she’d put paint on it when she’s no longer wearing a white shirt.
—
A few days have passed, and a letter showed up inside Daniela’s locker again.
Daniela hasn’t even written her response yet.
She blinked as she opened it. She was too excited to see what was written in it.
“Dear, the only girl who managed to make my hands shake mid-brushstroke,
Our little date yesterday was fun. Short. Quiet. No words exchanged. Just one wall as a canvas between us and a splash of color.
I like how you think. Bold. Playful. Messy, even. I loved watching you leave that mark.
I stayed after you left, just to admire it. (That sounded creepy. I swear I’m not a stalker. Ignore that.)
But I did. And I couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t touch your color. That first stroke? It was all you. Untouched. Still wet when I came in. Beautiful.
Well, it wasn’t even a stroke. That was a splash. Quite chaotic, too, if you ask me.
It’s fitting.
Just like you. Very you.
But… What would be your boldest stroke in a painting? Would that be it? A splash? A flick of a paintbrush? Or is it the sticky notes?
Show me something that would make the artwork feel whole.
I’m not pressuring you; this is a challenge. I wonder what Miss Daniela Avanzini has up her sleeves for this art piece.
So—same place. Same time. Friday. Let’s pretend we’re on another date. Let’s pretend I’m not already addicted to your presence. Let’s see how far this art can take us.
The wall has changed. You’ll see what I mean.
Yours,
Whoever.”
Daniela was smiling the whole time she was reading the letter.
It was nice being on this “date” for a change. She didn’t have to go to some random diner or restaurant.
Didn’t need to stress over what she’d be wearing. She didn’t even need to straighten her hair and put on layers of makeup just so her date wouldn’t judge her for not looking glammed up.
She just had to go there, paint whatever, and enjoy herself.
She didn’t need to put on fancy clothes for her secret admirer to, well, admire her.
She just had to be herself. She just had to be Daniela Avanzini.
Nothing else.
—
Friday comes, and Daniela arrives at the art room earlier than last time.
Daniela walks in, half-expecting to finally see her secret admirer—but again, no one’s there.
But the wall is different now. Even the room is different. There were new paint cans in the corner, unopened.
And some unused brushes were placed on top.
Beside the wall are used paint cans, drips of different colored paint all over the papers on the floor.
Daniela stares up at the wall.
The background’s been slowly filled in. Swirls of color, a suggestion of a face—though the image is unfinished.
There were even tiny scribbles here and there. Doodles made by her secret admirer.
Sophia added her own strokes, responding to Daniela’s first splash like a conversation in color.
Daniela stares. Her heart stumbles in her chest.
The sticky notes that Daniela has stuck on the wall have now been moved to the side, no longer in the middle.
Beside her sticky notes were three new ones. Two of them responded to both of her questions.
”Only if you wish to be mine. :)”
And the other:
“I grew up drinking Yakult, and yes, I like it. I love it, even.
Why do you ask?”
Her lips stretch into a smile. She takes one step backward with her eyes still fixed on the note.
She found it… cute.
Her admirer always entertains her questions, even the ones that she wrote as a joke.
Daniela doesn’t even know why she wrote that sticky note about Yakults.
It's just…
It just never really left her mind at all. It could be the drink itself, or the interaction…
Or maybe it was just Sophia Laforteza and the way she complimented Daniela so smoothly and naturally.
Like she wasn’t trying to impress her.
Sophia complimented her like she deserved to hear it.
Sophia complimented her as if she just wanted to tell her that she was pretty.
Not just pretty, but pretty.
And the way she looked at her—
Suddenly, she catches herself thinking too much about this. About the compliment. About Sophia.
She is literally in the middle of a date with her admirer, and she’s too busy thinking about another person who complimented her twice on separate occasions.
It was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous.
She felt like she was…
Daniela takes a deep breath before exhaling dramatically.
Then she picks up a brush. She gripped it tightly before turning her head toward the sticky notes again.
She reads the third one that says: “Show me your boldest stroke.”
And this time, she doesn’t hold back.
Daniela used a different color this time. She didn’t care if the paint splattered on her shirt.
After a good 20 minutes, she steps back from the wall, heart racing, paint-stained fingers gripping the brush tighter than necessary.
Her contribution this time is bolder.
Fiercer lines, richer color—something about this feels like a secret dance between two people who haven’t yet touched hands.
She takes one last look at the evolving painting, her eyes trailing the blending of her color with the ones that were already there— Sophia’s strokes —it felt like they were connected through it somehow.
Her eyes linger a bit longer before pulling a sticky note from the table nearby and scribbling something quickly.
The paint on her hand stained the paper, and she bit her lip as she noticed.
She wrote on three different papers.
“Just a thought. Also, sorry about the paint. I stained your sticky notes.” An answer to her admirer’s question about the Yakult.
“You’re getting too confident. But if I do wish for it, will it come true?” She stuck it beside the other sticky note that said “Only if you wish to be mine. :)”
Then she hesitates before sticking the last one to the corner of the wall.
Just below the first few sticky notes.
Then she smirks.
It reads:
“Why don’t you show me your boldest stroke?
—DA”
Then she leaves.
Still no clue who the mystery person is.
She’s feeling something else entirely, though.
But she pushes the feeling aside because her heart is beating loud enough to echo in the room she just exited.
A few hours later, Sophia enters the room with her heart in her throat, hoodie sleeves stained with paint, and Yakult in her pocket because—well, habit.
The first thing she notices is Daniela’s newest addition to the wall—loud, unapologetic, like it’s claiming space and saying, “I’m here.”
The second thing she notices is the sticky notes.
Yellow. Slightly crooked, huddled together in one area.
Some are stained with paint.
Her fingers tremble as she peels each one off and reads one that had caught her eye:
“Why don’t you show me your boldest stroke?
—DA”
Sophia’s breath catches.
She lets out a low laugh, eyes wide in disbelief, because… God , this girl. This girl is starting to flirt back. And Sophia is so gone.
So she pulls out her brushes. Takes a deep breath and begins.
It’s not fast or even easy. She has to rework what’s already there, blend the wild colors into something that resembles skin, movement, and light.
But the end result is beautiful in that messy-but-clear kind of way.
It was starting to take shape.
A person.
It looks like a blob of colors at the moment, but the shape is there. Anyone can clearly see that it’s a painting of a person.
Sophia was able to perfectly combine everything as if it were meant to be that way.
Despite the wild range of colors on the wall, Sophia made it work. It looked like an abstract with feelings and emotions radiating off of it.
She wanted to finish it right then and there.
Sophia wanted to so badly.
She wanted to keep on painting over it, using as many paint cans as she could to finally complete the painting on the wall, but she stopped herself.
I’ll finish it, but not without her.
Sophia steps back, chest heaving.
She reaches for her pen and leaves just one more note beneath the paint that she left on the wall.
“There. You asked for it.
—whoever”
And then she leaves, heart pounding, her fingers twitching from the adrenaline.
She doesn’t know what Daniela will think.
But she hopes Daniela will come back again to put her own twist on it.
—
For the next few Fridays every 4 PM, that will be their routine.
They would always be occupied every Friday when the clock strikes 4 PM.
They don’t see each other, and that was fine. Daniela’s not complaining.
She enjoyed going to the art room every Friday. She enjoyed having something to do after focusing in class and doing all her homework.
They haven’t been talking through letters these days, which Daniela misses.
But it was fine.
Because every Friday, they would leave sticky notes on the walls with random questions and random stories.
Sometimes even poetry.
They’ve gotten used to the way they exchange sticky notes. It was entertaining for both of them.
“Where were you born? Or is this question too personal for you?
—DA”
“Queens, New York. And no, not too personal. But I guess I’ve already answered that because I already told you where. What about you? Where were you born?
—whoever”
“Atlanta, Georgia. But I think I’ve told you a little bit of my family from our first letters, haven’t I?
Also, New York?? Okay, Spiderman!
—DA”
-
“Do you like poetry books? I have a poetry book I’d like to share with you :)
—whoever”
“I do. Hmm. Will I like that poetry book?
—DA”
“Well, you already like things that I give you. I doubt you would not like this poetry book.
It’s called “I see you like I see a flower”. I saw it in the library. It’s good.
Look for the poem titled “Grass Flower 1”
I’d like to dedicate it to you.
—whoever”
“You are so cocky.
But I read it.
‘You have to look closely
To see its beauty.
You have to look long enough
To feel its loveliness.
It's the same with you.’
Seriously? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?
—DA”
“No. I’m trying to make you swoon. Did it work?
—whoever”
“It did…
It sure did.
—DA”
-
“Earlier today, Lara tried opening her energy drink by banging it on the table. It exploded… I hope your friends aren’t as chaotic as mine.
—DA”
“Oh, no, my friends are no better than your friends. My friends are up to no good! They once pranked a group of jocks and filled the shower room with Orbeez. I don’t even know how they got a ton…
Also, tell Lara she has my sympathy.
—whoever”
“Seems like your friends are a bunch of menaces. Are you also a menace then?
Don’t worry, I told her. She said, “Show your face, coward.” LOL
—DA”
“Hmm, sure you could say that. I did flood my house once because I challenged my stupid friends to a water fight. My mom chased me around with a slipper, and I almost got hit with a hanger.
Good times.
And tell Lara, No. <3
—whoever”
-
“Your smile today could’ve ended wars. Just saying.
—whoever”
“Pfft. Okay, Romeo. I can’t even respond properly to that because I don’t know who you are. I can’t say anything back to fluster you.
That is so unfair.
—DA”
-
“I think you’re the reason I’ve been looking forward to mornings lately.
—DA”
“If someone could hold sunlight, I imagine it would feel like your presence.
—whoever”
-
“Sometimes I feel like someone out there sees me the way I’ve always wanted to be seen.
I may or may not be talking about you. :)
—DA”
“If I could, I’d write you a thousand sticky notes and cover your world with them. Maybe then you’d know how I see you.
—whoever”
“If you are who I think you are… you’re making me fall a little.
—DA”
“Then, who do you think I am?
—whoever”
Daniela doesn’t respond.
She wasn’t sure.
She actually doesn’t know if she even has any guesses as to who her admirer was.
But deep within her, there’s a name that she can’t seem to let go of.
A name that keeps popping up, but she won’t ever say it out loud.
It was that type of feeling that was strong and haunted your thoughts, but you’d rather not acknowledge it, as acknowledging it would make it real.
That’s exactly what Daniela was feeling.
Sure, maybe she’s scared, too.
That if she acknowledged it, she’d start hoping that it would be that person.
She doesn’t want to expect or hope for anyone. That’s the last thing she wants to do.
So she ignores the question and ignores the feeling altogether.
She’ll enjoy what she has with this admirer of hers.
And accept them, whoever they turn out to be.
After all, they did admire Daniela despite the facade.
But suddenly, the letters stop.
Well, not really. It was just for a few days. Daniela doesn’t get a letter in her locker for that week. Friday is approaching, and there’s nothing.
It was a bit worrying for her.
“What’s wrong? You okay?” It was Yoonchae who asked. She noticed the way Daniela stood still in front of her open locker.
She looked like she was expecting something.
Daniela blinked as if snapping out of her thoughts before turning her head towards Yoonchae.
A small smile tugs at her lips, “Oh, yeah… I’m good.” She turns away and rummages through her locker before taking out a book. “I just spaced out for a moment.”
Lara turned her head to look at them, raising a brow at Daniela. “You good? Did you not sleep well?”
Daniela shook her head as she shut her locker, “Yeah, I’m good! I slept well!” She offered Lara a smile.
But it was easy for Lara to read her.
“Okay, spill. What’s wrong? There’s something wrong. I can see right through you.” She already had her arms crossed, expecting an answer from Daniela.
Yoonchae looked concerned and was also expecting something from her.
Daniela knew she couldn’t hide from her friends. She could hide from everyone.
Just not them.
A sigh escapes her lips. “It’s no big deal, really. They just haven’t sent me a letter this week.”
The sadness was practically seeping through the tone of her voice. Even her actions looked sad.
“What? Your secret admirer? I thought you guys were already going on dates and stuff?” Yoonchae tilted her head slightly to the side. She was a bit confused about the situation.
“Yeah, but we’ve never met! We’ve just been working on this huge painting in the art room for weeks without actually seeing each other.” Daniela says with a shrug.
Lara nods slowly, “So… you worked on the art thing together last week? So your last “talk” with them was last Friday?”
Daniela nods, leaning against her locker. “Yeah. Usually, they’d have sent me a letter by now. Tomorrow’s Friday.”
Yoonchae blinked before opening her mouth to say something. “Well, isn't literature week next week? What if they’re busy with that?”
“Oh my god, yeah! What if they have stuff to do for literature week? Y’know that’s a big event for writers and your secret admirer is literally a writer!” Lara added, her smile widening as if she was trying to hype Daniela up with the information.
Daniela thinks for a second.
Wait…
“What the hell, you’re right! How could I forget!? The whole campus is literally preparing for it… ugh, I’m so dumb.” Daniela literally facepalms herself.
She was worrying and overthinking for nothing.
Lara and Yoonchae softly laugh at her reaction.
The youngest of the three pats Daniela’s shoulder before pulling her closer so they could start walking down the hall. “That’s okay, Dani. Maybe you just miss them.”
“Ooh, looks like you are missing them.” Lara teased as they all walked side by side.
Daniela doesn’t even deny it.
The smile on her lips was telling enough. Lara laughs at her, pointing at her face. “And you’re not even denying it! Oh, you are so gone, Daniela.”
—
Megan, Sophia, and Manon were booked and busy for the week.
Literature Week is happening soon, and they were pulled by the theater club again, just like last year.
Last year, Manon and Megan both got in trouble for something stupid, and they had to do some tasks around campus as punishment.
One of those tasks was to help out with the theater club. The two of them basically became some sort of errand boys for a week straight last year, around the same time.
And they just had to pull Sophia in when the theater club needed more people to help out.
In reality, the two girls just wanted Sophia to suffer with them.
But Sophia enjoyed helping out, and the theater club never let her go ever since.
Now the quad is packed with booths, open mic stands, and students lugging tote bags filled with poetry collections.
Colorful banners stretch across the courtyard: Literature Week — Celebrate Stories in Every Form.
Inside the auditorium, Sophia is surrounded by bolts of fabric, a glue gun, and a table full of stage props.
The faint sound of a poetry slam echoes from somewhere outside, but she’s focused on pinning fabric onto a mannequin.
She wasn’t even supposed to be doing any of that. She was supposed to be the one at the tech booth, but since the others had gone and eaten lunch, she had to take over some of their tasks.
“Hey, Manon? I need you to do me a favor.” Sophia says without looking up.
Manon was lounging on a chair with a paint-splattered iced coffee. She looks up and stares at Sophia. “If it’s about getting food, I’m already on it.”
She was about to stand up when Sophia spoke up again. “No. Not that. Emails. Send out an announcement to the student body that locker 210 is taking a break this week… and next week.”
Manon squints, “What? Why?”
“No requests. We’re swamped with the theater club’s play.” Sophia says with a shrug.
“You mean we’re swamped with helping the club when we’re not even a part of it? Yeah…” Megan said, perched on a ladder while painting a prop.
Sophia gives her a look. “I mean… This was your punishment last year. You guys just dragged me with you. Suffer the consequences.” She pins another fabric to the mannequin, holding it up so it won’t fall.
“Besides, if we don’t lock in, they won’t have anything. The performance will crash before opening night.” She added.
Manon smirks, already pulling out her laptop. “So… you’re shutting down 210 for a week—I mean, two weeks? You know people are going to lose their minds. Especially your little pen pal.”
Sophia pretends to be unbothered, but a small smile is threatening to stretch across her lips. “If locker 210’s mysteriousness can’t survive two weeks, then it’s not mysterious enough… And I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
Megan rolls her eyes before chuckling, “You sound like an emo poet from the early 2000s.”
Sophia only laughs while Manon starts typing out the emails that she’d be sending to everyone.
It’s been a while since they had to make an announcement through email. Sophia had been grinding with the requests for the past few months; they didn’t really need to send out announcements.
But Manon shrugs.
She knows how serious Sophia gets when it’s literature week. Hell, it’s the reason why locker 210 is famous.
Because Sophia’s good at literature and writing.
Unfortunately, Sophia can’t function when there’s too much she wants to do all at once.
Outside the auditorium are students running around, holding random materials, signs, and banners.
Everyone was busy preparing their stalls out in the quad.
Daniela is walking past the literature booths with Lara, reading a flyer someone shoved into her hand.
Literature week hasn’t even started, and they were already handing out flyers.
Yoonchae was nowhere to be seen. She was busy with her own club.
She was probably around the quad as well. Helping with the preparation of her booth.
Suddenly, Lara starts laughing at her phone as it starts blowing up. The notification sound came one after another.
Daniela halts, turning her head towards Lara. “What’s going on?”
Lara was still looking down at her phone, laughing. She seemed very much amused by what was currently happening in her messages.
“My other friends are freaking the fuck out in our group chat because locker 210 apparently sent out an announcement saying they won’t be taking in requests for two weeks.”
Daniela freezes.
“…They’re not taking in requests?”
Lara laughed at her screen before showing it to Daniela. “Yeah, see? This is the screenshot my friend sent us.”
Daniela narrowed her eyes as she looked at the screen.
“Locker 210 will not be accepting requests for this week and next week due to ongoing preparations for Literature week. Thank you for understanding.”
She stares at the announcement like it’s a personal betrayal.
Lara noticed the way Daniela’s face twisted into something unreadable.
To Lara, she looked disappointed. Devastated, even.
“Oh… right,” Lara mumbled, slowly pulling her phone away. “Locker 210 is literally the only way for you to get your letter to your secret admirer…”
Daniela slowly nodded, staring at the ground. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse. They haven’t given me a letter in days, and now locker 210 is taking a break for two weeks.”
She huffs as Lara stares at her with sympathy.
“Just great…” She mumbled before crossing her arms.
Daniela understood that people have other things to do and that they’re busy with other things.
She knows locker 210 is a person and also needs a break.
But she can’t help but think that if she knew where her secret admirer’s locker was, she wouldn’t be having any problems today.
Maybe if she knew who they were… maybe it would be easier for her.
She feels Lara’s hand gently touching her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure you’ll find another way to communicate with them! There’s no way they won’t find a way.”
Daniela looked up at Lara slowly, “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”
Lara smiled widely at her before pulling her to walk. “For now, let’s focus on the event. I heard the theater club has something prepared for this year!”
—
Daniela was able to survive the week without receiving letters from her admirer.
To say it was torture could be an exaggeration, but that’s genuinely what Daniela felt.
It didn’t feel right not seeing a letter inside her locker. It didn’t feel right that she was not gently ripping a wax seal off an envelope every other night.
It didn’t even feel right that she wasn’t writing anything back.
The letters surely did become a part of her life.
And despite only ever talking to them through letters, sticky notes, and having indirect interactions, Daniela really felt that they had someone new in their life.
When the letters stopped, it felt like they had lost someone.
Sure, it sounds dramatic.
But Daniela doesn’t care. She admits that she is.
And dramatic she will be.
Literature week has officially started.
The whole campus is now buzzing with Literary Week activities — impromptu poetry readings in the quad, giant chalk quotes sprawled across the pavement, and the student council’s latest project: tall magnetic boards in every hallway, covered in little word tiles.
Like fridge magnets.
Students pass by, rearranging them into poems or ridiculous sentences.
Some even tried to arrange them and put “Fuck You” on it, but someone else had taken off the F, O, and U.
It only had “Uck Y” left.
And Yoonchae thought it was the funniest thing she had ever read when they walked past it.
Daniela and Lara were making their way to the next event. They had pulled Yoonchae away from her club’s booth so they could all hang out.
They walk down the hallway like they were on a mission until Daniela suddenly slows down, eyes catching the board beside the science lab.
The magnetic word tiles are messy from dozens of hands rearranging them, but three distinct sections stop her in her tracks.
“And I’d let you drown me in your emotions just so I’d be able to understand you better.”
Her eyes move to another set of magnets a few rows down.
“If we never crossed paths, it may as well be the universe’s biggest sin.”
And finally, the third one, tucked in the corner, simple but warm and beautiful.
“Flowers bloom on any path you step on.”
Daniela’s chest does this annoying little flutter, which she tries to ignore. She steps closer, tracing the words with her eyes like she could find hidden initials between the lines.
Sure, it was ridiculous of Daniela to think that it looked familiar.
But the way it was constructed… the way the words blend well together to create such an interesting poem…
It’s something Daniela has seen before.
Yoonchae reads the poems over Daniela’s shoulder. “Oh, that one’s sweet.” She said, pointing at the last poem that Daniela had read.
“It’s… them, ” Daniela said absentmindedly.
Lara raised an eyebrow. “Them?”
Daniela glances at her, almost blurting it out, but instead just shrugs, “Never mind.”
Her mind is already racing. The phrasing, the rhythm — it’s so similar to the poems her admirer writes in the sticky notes.
Even the way “universe’s biggest sin” is casually grand — it’s uncanny.
She walks away, but her thoughts linger.
They’re here, somewhere on campus. And they’re writing out in the open like this?
Suddenly, Literature Week doesn’t feel like a dry spell anymore. It feels like a scavenger hunt.
By the next day, Daniela is hooked.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Not even once. Just like how her admirer’s letters keep her up at night.
Seeing those poems gave her a flicker of hope.
Her secret admirer is still there. Their presence. Their writings. All there.
She just needs more proof that it’s them.
Lara honestly thinks Daniela’s just bored because of the lack of letters in her locker.
But at the same time, Lara is curious. Maybe it is Daniela’s admirer who made those poems on the board?
Nonetheless, Daniela has a mission: find more of those poems.
Before lunch, she drifts through the hallways between classes, eyes scanning each magnetic board in each hallway.
She ends up in front of the magnetic board near the library.
And she spots one.
“I don’t want perfect, for imperfection is what you are. Not the kind that would break hearts but the kind that would heal souls.”
Daniela’s lips part slightly. That’s them again.
She’s not entirely sure how she knows it’s them. But she just somehow feels it.
The next poem she sees is on the magnetic board near the auditorium.
“My shadow always longs for your presence.”
She bites her lip, a slow smile threatening to form. Who are you? Is it really you?
She lingers for a bit before walking.
She turns the corner into another hallway, and she freezes.
Sophia Laforteza is there, standing in front of the board. Her hair falls loose over her shoulders, and she’s completely absorbed, hands moving little word tiles into place like she’s composing a secret spell.
Daniela walks more slowly. Careful and measured.
As if she were scared that Sophia would jump and leave like a cat if she made too much noise.
When she was just a few steps away, she took one careful step closer. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at all the word magnets on the board.
The words were scattered all over.
Daniela held her breath, scared to make a sound, almost like she might even scare the words away.
Her eyes flick down to the poem Sophia was building.
“I begged the sun to keep you”
And Sophia moves her hand, snapping another word beside it.
“I begged the sun to keep you unharmed.”
The sentence hangs in the air between them. Daniela stares at it, then at Sophia’s hands, her focused expression.
It hits her like a wave — the style, the phrasing, the warmth hidden under restraint.
But the sentence itself is familiar. Daniela knows that sentence.
Sophia turns, startled at the movement beside her.
Their eyes meet.
Daniela’s heart is pounding, but she manages a soft, almost teasing tone.
“That’s beautiful… mind if I add something to it?”
Sophia blinks, then slowly pushes the leftover magnets towards her.
Daniela stares at the magnets, eyes roaming around, looking for the right words and letters.
Finally, she picks a few, arranging them carefully underneath Sophia’s.
“…Because losing you would be my ruin.”
She steps back, glancing at Sophia with a knowing glint. “You’ve got quite a way with words, Sophia Laforteza. ”
Sophia’s shoulders relax, and she unconsciously wipes her palms against her pants.
She smiles faintly at Daniela, looking calm as ever.
“I’ve been told,” Sophia says, that calm confidence oozing out of her words.
But deep inside, she’s wondering if she’s just been caught.
Daniela involuntarily lets out a sound between a huff and a laugh. Something her body does when she reads a line from her secret admirer in the letters.
She turns her head back to the board. She studies the first line that Sophia placed, I begged the sun to keep you unharmed, before glancing back at her.
“I like Vanilla by Sunset Rollercoaster, too.”
Sophia blinks, slightly thrown off. “You know that song? And the band?”
Daniela is amused by Sophia’s reaction. She looked like she had heard the most unbelievable information of all.
She lets out a laugh, shaking her head at the surprise in Sophia’s voice. “Of course. The poem you made… that’s from the song, right? I begged the sun for keeping you unharmed was the real lyrics.”
Sophia’s lips curve into a small, sheepish smile as if she had been caught. “Yeah. I love that song. So I took inspiration.”
Daniela hums, tilting her head. “Hm. That’s cute. I like it because of the part where Venezuela is mentioned—but I like the whole vibe of the song, too.”
That earns her a quiet chuckle from Sophia. “What a simple girl you are.” She says it in a teasing way, eyes drifting toward their poem on the board. “But me too. It’s a chill song. Just didn’t expect you to like songs like those.”
Daniela grins, giving a small shrug before raising an eyebrow at Sophia. “Now, what does that mean?”
It’s as if a switch has flipped within Sophia. She snapped her head towards Daniela, eyes wide, filled with panic. “I—I mean—I didn’t mean it in a stereotypical way—! It’s—“
Her voice cracked halfway, and she had to clear her throat. Daniela laughed at her then, taking a step back.
And Sophia felt as if her heart had stopped for a second. Her throat tightened as if a hand were gripping her neck.
Daniela looked so… free.
And what made it worse was that she was acting like that around Sophia. Like her whole facade crumbled down.
Like she wasn’t pretending to be perfect because she was perfectly…well, perfect the way she is.
And to Sophia, it felt like Daniela knew that, too, which is why she didn’t care too much if her front slipped away.
She didn’t care if Sophia saw a crack.
Because in Daniela’s mind, if Sophia were able to compliment her without the blonde, straight hair, then she would compliment her for being herself.
“I know what you meant, Sophia. I’m just messing with you.” Daniela flashes her a genuine smile before turning her head towards the magnetic board again.
Sophia let out a quiet sigh through her nose, relaxing a little.
Daniela steps forward again, fingers moving with care as she pulls little magnetic words into place.
After a moment, she leans back. She turns, smiling at Sophia. “Do you want to add to it?”
Sophia stares at it for a while, reading what Daniela had created.
“I whispered dreams of you”
Sophia doesn’t even hesitate the moment she reads it. The gears in her head started to turn, and she immediately came up with something to add.
She takes the remaining tiles and gently locks them in, beneath Daniela’s line.
“Beneath the cold air to keep your body warm.”
For a second, neither of them moves — just standing there, eyes flicking between the poem and each other. The hallway noise feels far away.
Daniela’s smile softens, almost unreadable.
“You’re good at this.”
Sophia laughs a little, almost sounding like a huff. “So are you.”
The words hang between them like another secret neither is ready to admit.
Sophia steps back from the board, but her gaze lingers on the pile of unused tiles. She bites her lip, considering… then starts moving her fingers again.
She might regret this later, but she does it anyway.
Daniela watches, curious, as words slowly form under Sophia’s careful touch.
“If our shadows touch, will you feel it too?”
Daniela freezes.
It should just read like another poetic line — like all the other ones she’s been finding this week — but something about the way Sophia placed it feels… different.
Intentional.
Her chest feels oddly tight.
“…That’s… beautiful.” Daniela managed to say.
But her voice was so soft, so little… it came out almost like a whisper that only Sophia was able to hear.
Sophia glances at her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks.”
Daniela’s eyes flick between Sophia’s calm expression and the words on the board, the poem echoing in her mind like a question that was meant for her and her alone.
She swallows, forcing herself to sound casual.
“Feels almost like a real question.”
Sophia’s gaze holds hers for a second too long. Her smile widened just a bit, but it was enough to reach her eyes that slightly turned into little crescents.
“Well, maybe it is, maybe it’s not. It depends on who reads it.” She says it so casually with a shrug, her smile never faltering.
“Maybe, to you, it is,” Sophia added after a beat, tilting her head a bit as if she was telling Daniela a secret—worse, a hint.
Sophia’s words caused Daniela’s breath to hitch ever so slightly.
Like it had hit her right where it needed to land.
For a moment, Daniela forgot how to breathe. Then a group of students passes by, breaking the tension that maybe only Daniela felt, and Sophia steps back with a polite nod before walking off — leaving Daniela thinking about her words, wondering if she just imagined the weight in her voice.
Left staring at the last poem that Sophia created, with too many questions in her mind.
—
Later that afternoon, Daniela is slumped against a table out in the quad.
She was slightly tapping her nails on the table while Lara scrolled through her phone, and Yoonchae sipped on an overpriced lemonade from one of the stands.
Lara looks up at Daniela for a second, and she notices the way Daniela’s forehead curled, brows furrowed.
“You’ve been frowning at nothing for the past five minutes. Either you saw someone wearing Crocs with socks again, or this is about your mysterious poet.”
Daniela sighs before suddenly groaning and burying her face in her hands. “It’s… not exactly the poet. Or maybe it is. I don’t know.”
Yoonchae perks up, “Ooh, did you find out something about them?”
Lara nods, “Do tell. Is this about the magnetic boards out in the hallways?”
Daniela immediately lifts her head up at the mention of the magnetic boards. “Yes! I was at one earlier, and Sophia Laforteza was there—“
“The school’s Miss smart girl, huh?” Lara interrupted.
“Yeah.” Daniela huffs out. “She made this poem… If our shadows touch, will you feel it too?”
Yoonchae blinks. Lara raises an eyebrow.
“That’s kind of romantic.” Yoonchae says, and Lara chimes in, “Kind of?? Girl, that is romantic!”
“Right? And the way she made it and looked at me… it didn’t feel like she was just making a random poem. It felt like—“
“—like she was asking you. ” Lara finishes her sentence for her as if she had realized something at the same time Daniela did.
Daniela dramatically pointed at her, “Exactly! But I can’t just go ‘hey, are you my secret admirer who’s been leaving poetic declarations in my locker’—“
Yoonchae cut her off. “Why not? If she is, you’ll finally know. If she’s not, then you played yourself.”
Daniela glares at her. Lara leans back with a smirk.
“Or… Maybe she’s just good at making poetry sound personal.” Lara shrugged. “She is the ‘smart girl’ in school. She’s good at writing! People are poetic like that. They’re just like that.”
Daniela sighs, thinking that Lara does have a point.
“Yeah, but…” Daniela hesitates, fiddling with her fingers. “What if it is her?”
Lara and Yoonchae exchange a glance that says Oh no, she’s about to start spiraling again.
“Well, there is only one way to find out. Go haunt the magnetic boards again tomorrow.” Yoonchae says with a shrug before turning her head towards Lara, waiting for her validation.
Lara nods easily. “Yeah, pretend you’re totally just passing by. And see if she makes something else that sounds like it’s for you.”
Daniela could easily sense the teasing tones from both her friends. Despite that, she’s half-smiling. “You two are the worst…”
“We prefer the term ‘excellent researchers, ’” Lara says with so much confidence.
—
The next afternoon, Daniela’s pretending she’s just “wandering” near the magnet boards in each hallway.
Lara and Yoonchae were waiting for her at their usual spot. They let Daniela do her thing on her own.
Besides, they doubt Daniela wants them around when she’s “investigating” the magnet boards. Sometimes, Yoonchae and Lara’s theories are exaggerated.
Daniela would rather have her own theories for now.
She eyes each board she passes by. There were new poems here and there.
Some random sentences that didn’t make sense.
None of the poems felt like the ones that Sophia made.
Until she rounds the corner and there she is.
Sophia.
Crouched by the magnetic board. She was wearing these slightly loose overalls with a pale blue button-up underneath.
She slowly moves the little word tiles around with careful fingers. She doesn’t notice Daniela yet.
Daniela steps closer, pretending to examine another section of the board, but her eyes flick to Sophia’s words as they take shape.
“I lie beneath the love that I have craved.”
Daniela’s breath hitches, her pulse quickening.
Sophia pauses, sifts through the little pile of unused magnets, before adding the last few words.
“With you, I lie beside it.”
It’s only when Sophia presses the last word into place that she glances sideways—and finally notices Daniela standing right there.
Her eyes widened a bit, leaning back slightly. She blinks once, twice, before her expression softens.
Now, she has this calm smile on her lips. “Hey. Didn’t see you there.”
Daniela swallows. “Hi… yeah, just passing by.”
They both look back at the board.
Daniela tries to start a casual conversation, but she fails almost immediately when she bites her tongue trying to come up with something normal to say.
She lands with “That one’s… intense.” And instantly regrets it as soon as it leaves her mouth.
Sophia shrugs, the smile never leaving her lips. “I guess so. I guess I was feeling a little intense.”
Daniela’s mind is racing. Was that for her? It’s beside her. She wrote it beside her . Was it just a coincidence? Was Sophia even aware of what she was doing?
Was it on purpose??
One more crazy thought would make Daniela faint.
Sophia steps back, admiring her work like an artist finishing a painting.
“What do you think?” Sophia’s voice snapped Daniela out of her spiraling thoughts.
She turns her head towards Sophia, and their eyes meet.
“It…” Daniela thinks for a second before continuing, “It honestly sounds like it was meant for someone.”
Sophia tilts her head, still holding her gaze, and for a second Daniela swears there’s something knowing in her expression—before she simply says, “Mhm, you could say that.”
Daniela slowly nods before looking back at the poem on the board.
She stared at it like she was trying to drill holes through it.
“Maybe someone out there would feel like it’s for them.” She hears Sophia say beside her, “I hope the right person feels it.”
And just like that, she adjusts her bag on her shoulder, offers Daniela a smile, and walks away.
Just like she did last time.
Daniela wasted no time and literally sprinted out to the quad to find Lara and Yoonchae.
She slammed her hands on the table that Lara and Yoonchae were at, clutching her phone and looking like she had just discovered fire.
“Dani! That scared me!” Yoonchae jumped, hand on her chest, feeling her heartbeat.
Lara had her hand over her mouth. Visibly shaken by Daniela’s sudden appearance. “… what now??”
Daniela pointed at them with her free hand despite the sting on both of her hands. “I’m sixty percent sure it’s her.”
Yoonchae blinked, hesitating for a moment before she spoke. “Sophia?”
“Yes.” Daniela dramatically says. Her voice was filled with so much emotion that you’d think she was auditioning for a role in a play.
She drops into the seat across from them, leaning forward. “I saw her crouched in front of one of the magnetic boards, and she made a poem. Again. Next to me.”
“Okay, that doesn’t really… that’s not really proof, babe,” Lara said with a careful tone.
Daniela gestures wildly. “I’m not done yet! It’s not just any poem. I lie beneath the love I have craved. With you, I lie beside it. That’s the poem!”
Lara snorts into her drink, “That’s a lot for a public hallway.”
“Exactly!! It’s just—Ugh, I just know there’s a connection there!” Daniela groans. She felt as if her mind was going to explode. She knows there’s something there…
But she’s having a hard time trying to prove something without solid evidence.
“Okay, so, you’re sixty percent sure now. The poems do kind of have the same vibe as the letters.” Yoonchae drums her fingers on the table. She’s thinking about it, too. Trying to help Daniela connect the pieces.
“Oh! And the sticky notes too!” Lara suddenly perks up, “You sent us pictures of the sticky notes that your admirer would leave in the art room, right? Some of their written poems almost have the same feel to them.”
“Right??” Daniela huffs when she finds herself getting so worked up about it. “God… and the other forty percent is screaming that I’m insane for thinking that Sophia Laforteza is secretly writing me love poems…”
Yoonchae smirks, “Sure, you do sound insane… but maybe you are onto something!”
Lara nods along to the younger girl’s words. “Let’s check if your theories are true.”
—
When Lara said that they would check if Daniela’s theories were true, Daniela didn’t think it would be like this.
Lara had a ton of friends.
She was in a ton of circles that Daniela couldn’t even count by hand. In terms of popularity? Lara Raj was popular because she was the pretty, rich girl who actually had a good and strong personality.
While Daniela’s popularity was… well, based on her looks (which has been established already), because people see nothing past it.
That doesn’t mean Daniela longed to belong in Lara’s never-ending social circles.
She liked this small circle with only Lara and Yoonchae.
So, when she heard that Lara had pulled some strings to literally find out what Sophia Laforteza’s very secretive schedule and routine were, she was speechless.
They found out through a string of different connections that Sophia has been helping out the theater club with her friends, Megan and Manon.
Well, it wasn’t really much of a secret schedule or routine. Daniela doubts it was even a secret.
It just felt weird for Daniela.
She questions herself why she was so determined to know whether it really was Sophia or not. A week ago, Daniela was content with what she had going on with her secret admirer; now she’s haunting the school’s ‘smart girl’ down like she was prey.
“I didn’t think it would come to this!” Daniela hissed as Lara pulled her by the arm. They stop in front of the auditorium’s door.
“Well, you should have expected something extreme or chaotic! This is me, Lara Raj, hello??” Lara shakes her head as if finding Daniela’s reaction ridiculous.
Lara had always done things in her own way, unique, quite questionable, and chaotic, with a sprinkle of humor here and there.
The theater club’s president is one of Lara’s closest friends from a different circle. And he willingly let them poke around the auditorium “just to see the magic before opening night.”
Yoonchae is skeptical about it, but she follows along.
They walk in, and Daniela lags behind, scanning the empty seats.
The auditorium was lit up with these warm lights from the walls. It didn’t really light up the whole place; rather, it set a cozy mood inside.
There were other students walking around, just a few. Some of them had walked to the back, disappearing through the doors beside the stage.
Two people walked out. Daniela recognized them as Megan and Manon, and they were carrying a bunch of random equipment and some stage props.
The moment Daniela saw them, she immediately knew that Sophia Laforteza would be there, too. Somewhere.
Megan and Manon walked past them, with Megan almost tripping in front of Yoonchae. She stumbles before looking at Yoonchae, “Whoa–okay—hi!” she exclaims, eyes wide.
Manon walked slowly in front of her, shooting her a suspicious look, brow raised and all. “Megan, let’s go.”
Megan’s eyes flickered from Manon to Yoonchae before smiling awkwardly, “Uh—bye!”
Lara, Yoonchae, and Daniela watched as Megan waddled away, bumping into Manon as they made their way towards the exit.
They heard Manon mumble “Fucking loser” before they left the auditorium entirely.
The three of them exchange a confused look before shrugging it off. Daniela goes back to looking around.
Her eyes flick upward. In the glassed-in tech booth high above, Sophia is there. Alone. Focused on the switchboard like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra.
Lara and Yoonchae saw her, too.
Daniela felt Lara’s hand on her shoulder, “Target acquired,” she whispers, and Daniela swallows. Hoping that her nervousness goes down with it.
“Y’know what? I think we should just—”
Lara was quick to cut her off, knowing that Daniela would want to leave. “Girl, take this opportunity. I’ve contacted fifteen people just to locate Sophia Laforteza for you; don’t let my efforts go to waste.”
Before Daniela can protest, Lara gives her a not-so-subtle shove toward the stairs leading to the booth.
Yoonchae chuckles against her palm as Daniela shoots them a death glare but climbs the stairs anyway, heart pounding.
When she reaches the top, Sophia glances up from the console, spots her through the glass, and blinks. She adjusts her glasses as if she couldn’t believe who she was seeing.
When it finally processed in her head, she offered Daniela a small smile. A soft, welcoming smile that makes Daniela’s stomach flip.
Sophia opens the booth door.
“Hey. Are you visiting with your friends?”
Daniela nods too quickly. She didn’t think Sophia would approach her first. “Yeah… we were kinda curious. We’re excited for the play.” That was half a lie. They don’t even know what the play was about.
“I didn’t know you were part of the club.” She adds, and Sophia purses her lips.
Sophia looked shy then. Her eyes were everywhere but at Daniela’s face.
She leans against the doorframe, shrugging. “Yeah, well, I helped once, and they never let me go.”
Daniela hums. She could feel how awkward it was getting. She didn’t really have any motive for this.
Sure, she wanted proof, but what was she supposed to do to get proof?
“You like theater plays?” Sophia suddenly asks.
Daniela blinks, shifting her weight to one leg. “Of course. Do I not look like the type to like those?”
Sophia tilted her head in mock-consideration. Suddenly, her calm charm is back. “Hmm… I can’t say. But you do look like the type to watch musicals.”
Daniela smiles. It’s easier now that Sophia’s behavior has shifted. “Well, do Disney musicals count?”
Sophia laughs. “Absolutely.” She steps back and waves Daniela in. “Want to look around inside?”
Daniela didn’t even respond; she just stepped in. Eyes darting to the panels, sliders, and blinking lights. She’s genuinely curious, watching Sophia’s hands move over the controls.
But when she sits down on the spare chair, she notices a small paperback resting on a swivel chair beside Sophia.
A dark blue poetry book: I See You Like I See a Flower.
Daniela freezes.
Her secret admirer wrote her a note about the exact same book. She picks it up without thinking.
She stares at the book, fingers gripping it a little too tightly. “...you read this too?”
Sophia glances over, and she almost feels her heart drop. She easily recovered, though, straightening up. A faint smile tugged at her lips.
“Oh, that? Yeah. I found it in the library and then bought my own copy. It’s…” She hesitates for a moment. The fear of saying something that could give Daniela a hint sits at the pit of her stomach. “It’s nice. Makes you feel like you’re holding someone’s thoughts in your hands.”
“I… I like this book, too.” Daniela says under her breath.
She’s careful, masking the way her pulse is sprinting.
Sophia only smiles softly, as if the answer pleases her more than it should.
Daniela still holds the poetry book in her hands, brushing her thumb over the soft, matte but smooth cover.
“I like the title itself. It sounds like an excerpt already.”
Daniela nodded. “Me too… What’s your favorite poem in the book?”
“Flower 3.”
Daniela flips through the pages until she finds it. She reads silently, but her voice trembles slightly when she murmurs the words under her breath.
“Not because you’re beautiful
Nor that you’re outstanding,
Not because you’re well-off,
But because it’s you.
Because you’re you
I miss you, love you, pity you,
And you hurt my heart deeply.
I can’t find a reason
But if there was one,
It’s because it’s you!
The simple fact that it’s you.
You’re cherishable, beautiful, loving, and wholesome.
My dear flower, be here for long.”
Her breath hitches.
There she goes again—Sophia, unintentionally making it sound like she’s speaking directly to her.
Reading that specific poem that Sophia claims to be her favorite felt like it was being dedicated to her.
“I love how simple it is. It’s just… talking to one person and saying it’s them. No frills, no metaphors. Just that person.” Sophia mumbles. Daniela could already see the smile through her voice.
Daniela smiles faintly, though her chest feels tight. “That’s cute. That’s actually romantic.”
Sophia smiles back at her. “What about you? What’s your favorite poem in the book?”
Daniela hesitates, then lets the answer slip before she can overthink.
“Well… someone told me this poem in the book, and it never left my mind. It’s Grass Flower 1. ”
Sophia pauses, immediately recognizing it—because she’s the one who told Daniela about it in one of her secret admirer notes.
She softly, almost instinctively recites the poem, having memorized it by heart. “You have to look closely to see its beauty. You have to look long enough to feel its loveliness. It’s the same with you.”
Daniela blinks, startled. “You… you have it memorized?”
Sophia chuckles, but her hands tremble a bit. “Of course. I love that poem, too.”
There’s a flicker in Sophia’s eyes—something Daniela can’t read—but then she just sits on the chair and leans back like it’s nothing, leaving Daniela to wrestle with the sudden heat in her chest.
—
When Daniela steps out of the tech booth, her friends are scattered in the auditorium seats, but Lara’s the first to spot her.
Lara squints at her, leaning forward. “You were up there for fifteen minutes. Spill.”
Daniela tries to play it cool, “We were just… talking.”
A grin stretches across Lara’s lips. “Uh-huh. Just talking. In a tiny booth, all alone, with Sophia Laforteza. For fifteen. Whole. Minutes. That’s why you look like you’ve been hit by a truck full of feelings.”
Daniela scoffs, taking one step backwards. “What are you talking about? I look fine, and you’re making it sound way more dramatic than it was.”
“You look like someone read you a love letter in Morse code and you’re still decoding it in your head. And, for the record, ‘fifteen minutes in a booth with Sophia Laforteza’ sounds like the plot of a romance novel.”
Yoonchae, overhearing from a few rows away, turns in her seat. “Who read what now?”
Daniela quickly waves her hands. “No one! Nothing! We were just talking about a book she was reading—”
Lara was quick to cut her off.
“—and you’re glowing. Literally glowing. Do you hear yourself?”
Daniela rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop the tiny smile tugging at her lips. She sinks into the seat next to Lara, clutching her bag like a shield.
Yoonchae leans over the back of her chair. “Oh my god, you were talking about books? That’s like—flirting’s older, hotter sister.”
Daniela groans, sinking further into her seat. “You guys are impossible.”
“You like her.” Lara whispers.
“I don’t—”
Lara shook her head; there was a teasing smile on her lips now. “You like her. ”
Daniela sighs and tips her head back, looking at the auditorium ceiling. She’s well aware that Sophia is still in the same vicinity. “...Only if she’s the one writing me letters…”
“And that means…?”
“... Maybe,”
Lara smirks like she just won a bet with herself while Yoonchae fist pumps silently.
—
As soon as Daniela left the tech booth, Sophia shut the door and leaned against it, pressing her palms flat on the cool wood. Her heart was slamming.
“She liked the book. She liked the poem I dedicated to her. She—” Sophia groaned and dragged her hands down her face. “Oh my god, I’m doomed.”
She sat down, staring at the poetry book on her chair like it was incriminating evidence at a crime scene. “Why did I even bring that with me? Stupid. So fucking stupid! She’s going to know. She knows!”
The booth door suddenly swung open with a loud bang.
“SPILL.” Megan’s voice rang out.
Sophia nearly fell out of her chair. “Jesus Christ!”
Megan and Manon stepped inside like FBI agents, eyes sharp, arms crossed.
“Don’t you two know how to fucking knock?!”
Megan narrowed her eyes at Sophia. “Daniela Avanzini was just up here!”
“We want every. Single. Detail.” Manon demanded.
Sophia pointed at the door helplessly. “Can you shut the damn door??”
Megan pushed the door shut without even looking back, eyes still locked on Sophia as if she was going to escape. “We saw them and we heard them. They’re already theorizing downstairs, Sophia!”
That was a lie. They didn’t hear shit at all. They just saw the girls talking in the middle row and decided to weaponize it to get Sophia to talk.
Sophia’s jaw dropped. “THEORIZING?!”
Manon smirked. “Yup. And judging by the look on your face, they’re not far off.”
Sophia buried her face in her hands. “I’m screwed. I am so screwed. She saw the book, guys. THE book.”
Megan and Manon exchanged a glance.
“You mean the one you told her about in one of your sticky notes?” Megan asks carefully.
Sophia groaned louder. “Yes! She asked me what my favorite poem was when she saw the book! And then she—she said that the one she liked was the same one I wrote in the sticky notes! Do you understand how bad that is?!”
Manon leaned on the desk, grinning. “No, babe, that’s actually so good. She probably thinks you’re soulmates.”
Megan stifles a laugh.
Sophia shot up in her chair. “Or she thinks I’m her admirer! Or worse… what if she thinks I am and she thinks I’m a stalker!”
“Yeah, because stalkers famously use magnetic poetry boards during literature week.” Megan deadpans.
Sophia flopped back down, clutching her hair. “Oh my god. I’m not surviving this week. This is it. This is the week Daniela finds out, and I combust.”
Manon and Megan just looked at each other again before bursting out laughing.
“She’s losing her mind, and it hasn’t even probably clicked for Daniela yet.” Megan mumbles.
Sophia slumped further into her chair, wishing the ground would open up and eat her whole.
But Megan and Manon weren’t going to let her off easy.
Megan snapped her fingers. “Alright, listen up, Romeo. Start talking. Did she smile at you?”
Sophia’s hands glided down her hair to her face, and she peeked between her fingers. “...yeah.”
Manon gasped dramatically. “How?? Like soft smile or I’m-trying-not-to-fall-for-you smile? ”
Sophia groaned against her palm. “I don’t know! A smile is a smile!”
Megan pointed at her. “No. Wrong! There are categories! Were there teeth?”
Sophia straightened in her seat, scandalized. “What kind of question is that?!”
“Answer it!” Manon barked like a detective slamming the table.
“No! Yes! I don’t know! She smiled! I–She just smiled!” Sophia blurted, throwing her hands up.
Megan and Manon exchanged the smuggest look.
Manon hummed. “We’re going to assume that she smiled with teeth and without teeth. She’s down bad.”
Sophia covered her ears. “Stop, stop, stop—Why are we analyzing people’s smiles now?!”
“Come on, this is for your own good. We need to analyze Daniela’s actions towards you.” Megan was relentless. “Did she stand close? Like ‘we could share body heat’ close?”
“NO! WHAT THE HELL?!” Sophia’s face was red.
“What do you mean?!” Manon shouted, shaking her by the shoulders. Sophia pushed her off, sighing dramatically as she pushed herself backwards.
The swivel chair rolls her a few steps away from her friends. “Guys, can we just drop this? I’m already going insane. I feel like she knows and she’s onto me! It doesn’t help that I’ve been seeing her more recently! In the hallways and now, here!”
“It means you’re obvious and she’s into it,” Megan said immediately.
“No!” Sophia cried out. “It means the universe is conspiring to EXPOSE me. I’m a fraud. I’m dead. This is my funeral.”
Manon pretended to wipe a fake tear. “Gone too soon. Cause of death: Daniela Avanzini’s smile.”
Megan leaned in with narrowed eyes. “Final question. Did she touch the book?”
Sophia froze. “...Yes.”
The two of them scream.
“THAT BOOK IS SACRED NOW. IT’S HOLY!”
Sophia slumps her body against the desk, wincing as she lands. “Kill me now.”
—
The girls’ investigation proved to be… a failure.
Not because they didn’t have proof. They did have proof. They have a ton.
It’s just that Daniela doesn’t know where to go from there. Sure, she can use all of the proof to prove that Sophia may or may not be her secret admirer.
But all of it could just be a coincidence.
Just because Sophia was good at coming up with good poetry doesn’t mean she’s the person behind all the letters. Just because Sophia is the school’s resident smart girl doesn’t mean she’s the one leaving eloquently written letters that leave Daniela swooning.
In Daniela’s mind, Sophia being the infamous locker 210 was more plausible than Sophia being her secret letter sender.
The poetry on the magnet board could mean nothing.
Sophia reading the same poetry book as her secret admirer could mean nothing.
Sophia having memorized the exact same poem that her secret admirer dedicated to her could mean absolutely nothing.
So, she drops it.
She decides that she’ll wait for her secret admirer to send another letter since she can’t reach them at the moment.
Not when locker 210 isn’t taking in any requests.
Literature week continues.
And that day was opening night.
The auditorium doors open at exactly 5:30 PM, while the play starts at 6 PM.
The girls had already planned beforehand that they were going to watch the play. But it was only 4:20 PM right now.
They had less than an hour to kill before the auditorium opens its doors for the students. Daniela hasn’t seen Sophia all day anywhere. She immediately thinks that the girl was probably busy helping the theater club prepare.
Daniela was feeling a bit down.
Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed by her friends.
Instead of trying to cheer her up with words, Lara thought of another way to cheer her up. Maybe they can roam around campus one last time before going to the auditorium for the play.
They haven’t seen the other rooms yet. There were small exhibits in specific rooms, and they hadn’t visited any of them.
“Hey, I heard there’s a mini art exhibit in the art room. Wanna check it out?” Lara had her hand on Daniela’s shoulder.
Yoonchae’s eyes widened in interest. “Oh, I heard there was a big painting there! The photography club has been hovering around it since the start of the week. Sadly, the person who made it only made the art public every 4 PM, and then they cover it up at 6 PM.”
Daniela blinked.
That piqued her interest.
A big painting? In the art room? And it’s only available every 4 PM?
“Since when did they have that?” Daniela asks, brows furrowing a bit.
Lara shrugged, “I don’t know, around Tuesday? Wednesday?”
Daniela hums before nodding her head.
It was just too specific. It’s in the art room and it’s only available every 4 PM.
It reminded Daniela of her dates with her secret admirer. Always at 4 PM. Always in the art room and nowhere else.
When they got there, it was flooded by students.
Some, just hanging out in front of the art room, and some, looking around inside. She felt nervous for some reason.
Like if she stepped foot inside, she’d get a panic attack.
But she was more curious about what had happened to what she and her secret admirer had been working on. It was in that exact same room… did it get erased?
What happened to their sticky notes? Was it trashed?
The thought of their artwork getting trashed made her chest feel tight.
But she had no time to think as her friends walked in, pulling her by the arm.
When Daniela entered, she was expecting a different painting. She was expecting the paint platters that she had put on the wall to now be hidden under another set of paint.
With their silly little love notes taken off and trashed somewhere.
What she doesn’t expect… is a full painting on the wall waiting for her.
She almost freezes in the doorway when she sees it.
Her eyes scan the wall—wild strokes, colorful chaos, and then, at the center of it all, her.
Or at least… the version of her someone sees.
The kind of “her” that feels real. Raw. Powerful. Soft.
Loved, maybe.
On the wall, her curls are loud and alive. Her eyes—her hazel eyes—looked like they’ve been painted with such aching detail that she can barely breathe.
She walks closer, stunned. She wanted to touch it. She wanted to feel the dry paint on her fingertips to feel the love radiating from each stroke that her secret admirer had left.
But at the same time, she was scared to touch it. Like she was afraid she’ll ruin something sacred.
Each stroke on the wall felt like a prayer.
A pathetic plea, but there is no shame present.
Each stroke was so perfect that it felt as if they worshipped even the smallest details about Daniela.
The painting was not hyper-realistic, nor traditional. But expressive. Soulful. Honest.
They even captured the softness in her lips, the way her smile almost forms.
You can see her from this person’s perspective.
Their notes were all there. Complete.
Except this time, they were off to the sides. Surrounding the big painting as if they were highlighting it. Still sticking to the walls. Out in the open for everyone to see.
At the very corner was another note. Something Daniela has never seen before.
The ink was blue.
“This is my boldest stroke.
But I couldn’t have completed this painting without you. :)”
“Holy shit,” Daniela whispers.
“Oh my god.” Lara was stunned as well. No wonder the photography club has been hovering around it.
“That’s… Dani, that’s you.” Yoonchae pointed at the wall, mesmerized.
Lara turns towards Daniela, looking like she’s still recovering from seeing the painting on the wall. “Daniela, you’re their muse!”
Daniela could only let out a shaky breath. She didn’t know what to say. It was as if she forgot how to form and construct sentences.
She could hear and feel her heart pounding in her chest and in her ears.
It was as if they made the painting just so they could show Daniela how they see her.
“What if it really is Sophia?” Yoonchae says in a hushed tone, leaning closer to Daniela so that she’s the only one who could hear it.
Daniela immediately shook her head. “No, I don’t know. We can’t be too sure.”
Lara scoffs, but she doesn’t push the idea anymore. “Whoever it is, it’s obvious. They’re in love with you.”
Daniela exhales almost sharply. “...Yeah. It kinda feels like it.”
6 PM rolled around, and they were now seated inside the auditorium.
Their seats were close to where the tech booth was. The exact same tech booth Daniela entered just a day ago.
When the play finally started, Daniela realized that it was a Beauty and the Beast play. She couldn’t even be bothered to check what the sign said on the auditorium doors.
At first, Daniela was immersed in the play. The theater club really did their very best and gave their all in this play.
But then Daniela’s brain betrayed her, and she started to wonder about Sophia’s contribution to the set. She was in the tech booth when they visited.
She wonders what else Sophia worked on in the set.
Then the music in the background changed. The speakers started to play the instrumentals for the song “Evermore.”
The student who plays the beast starts to sing onstage.
His voice was pretty and captivating.
But Daniela’s mind was elsewhere.
She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking.
From thinking about Sophia Laforteza.
Slowly, Daniela turns her head, looking behind her to see if she would be able to catch Sophia inside the tech booth.
And sure enough, she was there.
Daniela instantly sees her through the glass.
Her hair was tied up in a low ponytail, and her bangs were falling in front of her forehead. Her glasses were slightly slipping down.
She was looking up front, watching the play.
And as the student actor kept singing the song, Daniela saw Sophia singing along. Mouthing the words slightly.
Especially the chorus: “Now I know she’ll never leave me, even as she fades from view.”
There was a faint smile on her lips as she mouthed the words, and Daniela couldn’t look away.
There was something about the way Sophia mouthed the words and smiled. She looked calm and relaxed.
And something about it made Daniela feel warm.
She wondered if Sophia could sing, and if she did, Daniela wondered if she would be able to hear Sophia sing.
Even once.
But then the song finally ends, and for a moment, Sophia’s eyes flicker towards Daniela.
She looks away before their eyes could even linger.
And for a split second, Daniela thinks that it wouldn’t be too bad if Sophia turned out to be her secret admirer.
—
The show was finally over, and the students started to slowly leave the auditorium.
Lara had already offered to take them all home since she has a car. Who were Daniela and Yoonchae to even decline a free ride home?
But before they went out to the school’s parking lot, Daniela got hit with the strongest urge to go and check her locker before going home.
She gives in to the urge, and as soon as she opens her locker, a familiar letter falls out.
Her heart jumped to her throat.
She feels literal chills all over her body the moment she sees the letter.
The letter she’s been waiting for to appear in her locker for days.
They’re back.
She was quiet when Lara drove them home. Quiet when she exits the car. She only smiles up at Lara before saying, “Thanks, Lar. I owe you one. Drive home safe!”
She was quiet when she entered her house.
Quiet when she entered her room.
But the moment she shut her door, she jumped on her bed, buzzing with excitement.
She practically rips the letter open.
“Dear Miss Muse,
I stared at your note for hours. “Why don’t you show me your boldest stroke?” You said.
So I did.
It felt strange, honestly. Putting that much of you on a huge wall. I was scared I’d get you wrong. That you’d see it and think, “That’s not me.”
But you looked beautiful in my head and even more beautiful when I painted you.
No, I refuse to put you on a pedestal. I don’t think you’re perfect. I don’t think you could do no wrong. Hence why I painted you instead.
I am only human, and I can make mistakes with my strokes. I can’t capture all of you, but I can capture you in my own light. From my own perspective.
I’m not asking if you liked it. You don’t have to say. But I’m happy that you humored me and came back whenever I asked. (Or maybe you thought I demanded, I don’t know.)
I hope you did see the painting, though. It would be embarrassing if you read this and you didn’t see it. So much for being romantic in a letter…
But if by chance you did see it, I hope you smiled.
You called me bold. But it was really you. You walked into every room like you belonged. You do belong. And I guess that’s what I wanted you to see—that someone out there is seeing you, the whole of you, even when you don’t realize it.
While I was gone, I put up several of my poems on the magnetic boards around the hallways. Hoping that you knew I was still around.
But if you didn’t get to see any of my poems, I’ll give you more in this letter. Something I’ve written directly for you. Something you can only see and call your own.
I still won’t tell you who I am. Sorry, I’m having too much fun. (And also I’m a coward. But mostly the fun.)
I will say this, though.
The art room feels warmer now.
Like your color is still on the walls.
Like your laugh is somewhere in the air.
Like I’ve made something real out of a feeling I thought I’d never say out loud.
I see you like the color blue. It’s a cold, icy shade and color, but you’re warm—like home.
You’re the warmest shade of blue.
We should do this again sometime. When I’m finally ready to tell you who I am.
Yours (in brushstrokes and letters),
Whoever.”
Daniela’s fingers trembled as she held the paper. So much was going on inside her.
Her heart is beating fast, her cheeks are hot, and she feels almost emotional.
She opens the envelope again with shaky hands, and she sees more paper inside.
Small pieces of paper with poems written on them. Like a compilation of poems written only for her.
“Could we dance like tangled strings? Unable to pull apart.”
“You are what being hugged by the sun and what being kissed by the moon feels like.”
“You stop my heart from yearning and pondering. Only wanting one thing.”
“Her laugh makes the wind whisper, makes the clouds cry, and makes the sun hide.”
She flips through them one by one, each poem making her breath hitch.
It was as if she were being serenaded by their words. Lulling her. Guiding her as she falls deeper and deeper.
But the last paper broke her.
“ You are too much of everything that matters.”
God, did it hurt her heart so good. She felt her heart twist and her stomach churn.
She buries her face in her pillows, breathing heavily as the poems and the words swim around in her thoughts.
And in the middle of it all is Sophia Laforteza, making yet another cameo in her mind.
And something at the back of her mind screams at her. They’re one person.
But she could only hope that.
“…God, why do I want it to be you?”
Notes:
okay, one more chapter left and this fic is done!! Whew okay I LOVED AND ENJOYED writing this third chapter!! I've been reading a lot of novels and poetry books lately so maybe the way I write might have slightly changed but anyway- Had so much fun incorporating some of my personal poems here and I feel like it embodies the way Sophia yearns in this story.
and also ugh, while writing this chapter, I was hit with more sodani prompts and I'm going crazy just by thinking about writing more fics (but I'll try to focus on my other fics since "Now I'm Somebody You Don't Wanna Lose" is kind of long. I really want to finish that. But I might stray off again and make another 3 chaptered/4 chaptered fic like "Cursed" and this one lol.
I hope everyone enjoys their day!
Chapter 4: Love you like I mean it when I know I can't
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sophia was finally able to breathe.
After all that stuff during literature week, she could finally rest. Her books were waiting for her.
Her pens, wax, and envelopes were practically begging her to finally pick them up again.
She got so busy with the painting in the art room and all the things she had to do to help with the theater club.
On top of that, locker 210 has been closed for almost two weeks straight. Sophia knew she had to come back now.
Besides, those requests wouldn’t write themselves.
And maybe because she needs to continue saving up just enough to buy herself a plot of land or a condominium somewhere outside their little old town.
Although the thought is still up for debate… it wasn’t before.
Now, it is.
But the party is loud, full of music that vibrates the ground, and people talking over each other in every corner of the house.
This was not what Sophia was expecting when literature week ended.
She was finally able to breathe. It’s a Saturday. Literature week ended just yesterday, but her friends had other plans in mind.
Megan and Manon had taken it upon themselves to kindly ask Sophia if she wanted to come party with them on the other side of town.
Except they didn’t let Sophia decide, they threw clothes at her, made her change, and practically dragged her out of the house and threw her inside Megan’s car like she was getting arrested by the cops.
Sophia couldn’t even believe that her parents agreed when her friends asked if they could take her with them.
She doesn’t know what they told them, but whatever it was, they probably didn’t tell them that it was a party.
Lights flicker different shades of bright colors, and the scent of cheap alcohol and expensive perfume mixes in the air.
To Sophia, it smelled like future regret.
She doesn’t even like parties.
She wasn’t some loser who has never gone to any—she has, multiple times. Thanks to her friends—but after a few parties, she realized it wasn’t really her thing.
The first hour would be fun, but after that? She’d feel drained and would want to go home and recharge for a whole week.
But here she is—perched on the edge of a pool chair that was pushed off a little too close to the pool, hoodie on, a cup of something vaguely orange that was way too sweet in her hand.
Her feet were planted on the ground just far enough not to get wet from the water in the pool.
Megan sits beside her, sipping slowly from her drink. “This is so not your vibe,” she says, smiling.
Sophia playfully rolls her eyes, leaning back, “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”
“Why don’t you come in and talk to people?” Megan asks with a smirk, as if hinting at something else. “You’re just out here, brooding like Batman.”
Sophia huffs, “Gee, I wonder why. Maybe because I don’t like parties as much?” She says sarcastically. A playful smile stretched across her lips.
“I told Manon you wouldn’t enjoy being here. We could have just let you stay at home, maybe we could have just given you Yakult or something.”
That would have been better for Sophia. But the girl shrugs, “It’s fine. We’re already here anyway.” She mutters, staring down at the water. “Besides, I wanted to spend time with you two… even if you guys literally kidnapped me.”
Megan laughs loudly, head tipping backwards.
Sophia just slowly shook her head, smiling fondly at Megan.
Despite not liking parties, it wasn’t all that bad when she was with Manon and Megan.
At least she has her friends with her.
There’s just one more thing about parties that she didn’t like.
The drinks.
Sophia doesn’t drink.
Back in the Philippines, her family would hold extravagant events. Sophia swears the whole family clan will be there.
They’d have these imported, expensive drinks on the tables, and Sophia would retch at the smell.
What she’s getting at is—she doesn’t handle alcohol well.
She already knew that way before they even left the Philippines.
She just kept on proving herself right whenever Manon and Megan would drag her to a party. She’d get drunk, do stupid shit, maybe black out, and end up back in her bed not knowing how the hell she got back home.
And she knows tonight isn’t an exception.
She could already feel her surroundings slightly wobble, and she hadn’t even drunk the whole cup yet.
“Your face is red.” Megan pointed out. Sophia hums before downing the cup.
“This is my first and last cup. Don’t make me drink anymore.”
The younger girl beside her tips her drink, downing it the same way Sophia just did. “No promises, Soph. You can’t trust me when I’m tipsy.”
Downing the cup was a mistake.
Sophia could feel the burn in her throat and chest, the heat all over her face, and her vision was starting to get a little blurry.
She breathes in and closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them. She turns her head, testing if her vision is still hazy.
It was. Just a tiny bit.
But as she turned her head, she saw her.
Daniela.
Inside the house. She enters the kitchen like some goddess written into a movie, laughing at something Lara says.
Her curls are extra bouncy tonight, her eyeliner sharp. She’s wearing something red. A fiery red leather jacket that immediately caught Sophia’s eye, a black tube top underneath, and a black fitted skirt.
Sophia blinks like she just got flashbanged.
Megan follows her line of sight. “Oh,” she says.
Megan raises her cup in front of Sophia, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t fall in the pool.”
Sophia turns to her, a dreamy, stupid grin creeping up her face as her cheeks flush. “Huh?”
She didn’t even notice that she was grinning.
“I said… don’t fall in the pool,” Megan repeats. “Or maybe ‘Don’t fall in love’ is more fitting.”
And Sophia sighs, eyes still fixed on Daniela like she hung the stars in the sky. “Will keep that in mind… the pool part.” She slurs her words as she tries to blink the haziness away.
—
Daniela had only planned to stay an hour. Maybe two, if the playlist wasn’t too trash and the drinks weren’t too watered down.
She’s nursing a drink she doesn’t like and keeping up polite small talk with random students from their school that she barely even knows, while Lara and Yoonchae hovered around her protectively when she noticed it— her.
Sophia.
The girl who had effortlessly taken up all the spaces in her head.
She was sitting outside. Daniela saw her through the kitchen’s glass sliding doors.
Sophia was in the corner by the pool, hoodie on even when the night was a bit hotter than usual, slouched like she was trying to disappear.
Her hair is slightly damp from the humidity, and there’s a red hue on her cheeks.
Daniela’s eyes stay on her. She watches as Megan leans in and says something. Sophia laughs softly, her smile crooked and shy.
Her eyes were half-lidded like she were seconds from falling asleep.
Daniela blinks, feeling something twist in her chest.
How could Sophia Laforteza sit there and look so…
Daniela wracks her brain trying to come up with a proper word to describe the way Sophia looked.
But nothing comes to mind.
As if she had forgotten every compliment there is in the English language.
Even in Spanish.
Sophia just looked so… she looked like something Daniela can’t name.
She moved like she belonged, but at the same time, she stood out. Like a ripple in the water.
A ripple that would turn into a full-blown wave, not enough to destroy the peace, but instead it blends in with the peace.
Or something distracting, something that stood out in Daniela’s mind like it had always been there but not quite.
“BEER PONGGGG BITCHES GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE!”
Everyone’s heads turn.
It was unmistakably Manon’s voice, screaming at the top of her lungs from somewhere within the house.
Everyone started walking towards where they heard Manon.
It was in the big living room, and everyone gathered like ants hunting for food.
Daniela watches as Sophia and Megan groan in unison before standing from their spots next to the pool. Megan pulls on Sophia’s arm, dragging her toward the house.
Then—Manon’s yelling again.
“IF YOU LOSE BEER PONG, WE’RE THROWING YOU IN THE POOL! I DON’T CARE IF YOU CAN’T SWIM, YOU’LL LEARN.”
“You’re actually deranged!” Sophia yelled as they passed through the sliding doors.
“And you’re gonna be drenched!” Manon yelled back, sounding so smug and confident.
Sophia had this deep frown on, and Megan was giggling as she pulled the older girl with her.
They don’t seem to notice Daniela and her friends across the kitchen counter. It was probably because of the blinding lights, flickering everywhere.
Daniela watches the chaos unfold as she walks and peeks through the hallway.
Without any warning, Yoonchae and Lara push Daniela towards the crowd.
Suddenly, they’re all inside the living room now. It’s crowded and there’s barely any space left.
They stood there among the slew of tipsy high school students who reeked of cheap alcohol and bad decisions.
For a second, Daniela smiles. The girl she just saw making poetry on all the magnet boards and reciting poems she had memorized by heart not too long ago is now surrounded by a ton of people, sloppily arguing over ping pong balls and being threatened with water.
Lara nudges her. “You good?”
“Yeah.” She responds instantly.
After a while of standing, a group of students greeted them and offered them a seat on one of the couches.
They didn’t waste time and occupied it.
As soon as Daniela sat down beside Lara and Yoonchae, she sipped her drink, keeping her eyes on Sophia’s laughter glowing through the crowd.
It was Daniela’s first time seeing Sophia in this type of environment. Crowded, loud, and distracting.
Sophia had always been in an environment where there weren't too many people. Always on her own, buried in books, essays, and papers, Daniela can’t even stand to read.
But she stood out. Even in this sudden shift.
Of course, she did.
The lights inside the living room flashed a different color, and the music thumped much louder through the walls like a second heartbeat.
But Daniela is unfazed.
She doesn’t even blink.
Her eyes were glued to one spot.
The spot where Sophia is currently standing with a red solo cup in one hand and a ping pong ball in the other.
She’s squinting. Adjusting her glasses. Mumbling something under her breath to Megan while Manon yells across the table.
There were other students playing with them, too. Some of them kept pouring alcohol into Sophia’s cup every other minute.
It was as if Daniela had forgotten about the drink in her hand as she kept watching.
Lara, lounging beside her on the couch, raises a brow. “You’ve been staring at her for like… ten minutes.”
“I have not. ”
Yoonchae appears beside them with a different cup in her hand before plopping down on the armrest of the couch beside Daniela.
Daniela didn’t even notice Yoonchae leave earlier. She was just that focused on watching the game… or just watching Sophia.
“Maybe not ten. Just three minutes.” Yoonchae says, loud enough to be heard over the music.
Daniela groans, leaning forward to lay her chin on her palm. “Can you two not? ”
Lara smirks. “Okay, fine. Let me just ask you a question: do you really think Sophia’s your mystery letter sender? Or do you just wish she were?”
Daniela was quick to snap her head towards Lara, flashing her a look that could only be read as a warning. “Lara.”
Lara leaned back, smiling widely. “I’m just saying! You’re watching her like you want her to propose to you with that red solo cup!”
Yoonchae giggles and leans forward, whispering with faux urgency. “And look at her! She’s definitely had a drink or two, and she still has her glasses on! She’s swaying a little, and you probably still think she’s cute!”
Daniela lifts her head, eyes darting back to Sophia.
Sophia, now holding onto Manon for balance, is swaying ever so slightly while aiming again.
Her hoodie sleeves are rolled up, and her glasses are halfway down her nose. There’s a little smile tugging at her lips, soft and goofy and warm.
“…yeah. It’s cute.” Daniela unconsciously says, barely above a whisper.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY!?” Lara screams with an expression so dramatic that she could audition for a role in a Netflix series.
Yoonchae pokes Daniela’s cheeks, laughing. “Caught you!”
Daniela rolls her eyes, covering her face with one hand. Internally cursing herself for saying it out loud.
Lara kept nudging her side. “You like her, huh?? Admit it!”
Daniela was completely red now. And her friends are sure it’s not because of the alcohol. “FUCK OFF!”
Yoonchae was laughing beside her, shoulders shaking. “This party is so fun.”
—
Sophia has downed a few more drinks while she was playing beer pong. She doesn’t even know who keeps giving her alcohol, and she doesn’t know why she keeps on drinking it either.
She felt like the house was too loud now. Like the bass was louder than it was before, shaking the floor underneath her feet, the cheers and laughter echoed off the walls.
Since when did the people around them double?
Sophia could barely even remember how she got roped into this beer pong game.
She’s a little tipsy.
Or just straight up drunk, she’s not fully sure.
Her hoodie sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, even though she doesn’t remember doing so.
Her glasses would slip down her nose every few seconds, and Megan was yelling beside her, telling her to focus.
“If you lose, Sophia, you’re going in the pool.”
Sophia blinks a couple of times. “Calm down, I’m trying to concentrate—“
“C’mon, Laforteza!” Manon hollered. “Don’t choke!”
She adjusts her grip on the ping pong ball, wobbles slightly on her feet, and that’s when it happens.
Her gaze flicks up, just for a second.
And there she is again. Daniela Avanzini.
Glowing under the dim party lights, drink in hand leaned back against the couch with Lara and Yoonchae flanking her like bodyguards.
She’s looking at Sophia. No— watching her. Like she’s trying to figure her out.
Sophia freezes for a half-second, heart lurching into her throat.
She felt as if she had sobered up a bit. Just a tiny bit…
And then, like the idiot she is, she smiles. Just a little. Slow and hazy. She even raises her cup slightly, like a makeshift toast across the room.
Daniela doesn’t look away.
Sophia, tipsy and completely full of it now: I’m gonna make this shot. I’m gonna impress her—wait, I shouldn’t think that—
She lifts her arm with dramatic flair, eyes still vaguely in Daniela’s direction, and flicks her wrist.
The ping pong ball sails through the air, bounces off the table… and lands on the floor like a sad, wet fart.
The whole living room is suddenly filled with laughter and cheers as if Sophia had won the game.
“Oh my god, THAT WAS EMBARRASSING!” Megan burst out laughing, tapping the table a couple of times.
“Garbage! Trash! You are done!!” Manon screamed through the noise and the music, pointing at Sophia with her fingers.
“N-no—Wait! That wasn’t it! I was distracted!” Sophia slurred her words as she took one careful step backward.
Megan laughed even harder, “By what?!”
Sophia was already trying to walk away from the scene, but the other students surrounding them were blocking her way. “It was a momentary weakness!”
—
Daniela couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips when Sophia flashed that goofy, drunken grin at her from across the room.
It’s barely a smile, really.
More like a sleepy beam—like Sophia had no idea how pretty she looked just then, lit up by the ugly, dim party lights, hoodie sleeves rolled up to her elbows like it was art, glasses slipping down, ping pong ball in hand like she was about to change the world with that one, singular shot.
When Sophia threw the ball and it bounced off the table, it made a faint ping sound that any of them could barely hear.
Daniela flinches.
The ball falls on the floor. She completely missed. So far from the cup, it was almost impressive.
The students lose their minds—especially Megan and Manon.
Daniela could hear their voices over the loud whoops, screaming, and cheering.
Even Lara burst out laughing while Yoonchae had an amused smile on her lips as she covered one of her ears.
They see Sophia backing away, but the girls don’t let her escape.
Megan was already grabbing her arm while Manon yelled, “POOL TIME!!!” Like she’s announcing a royal decree.
Daniela laughs softly, thinking they’re just being dramatic—until she sees more people helping Megan and Manon drag Sophia outside.
They all watched in silence, mouths slightly opened.
Lara adjusted in her seat, turning her body to follow the crowd that was literally dragging Sophia like she was their next sacrificial lamb. “…Are they really—?”
Yoonchae stood up from her spot, mimicking what Lara just did. “Oh my god, they’re serious??”
The whole crowd of students literally followed them outside.
“IN THE POOL YOU GO SOPHIA!”
Daniela stood and followed the crowd hesitantly with Lara and Yoonchae following close behind.
Daniela watched, drink clutched in her hands, trying not to spill it.
And there it is.
One second, Sophia’s whining, “Wait, I have my glasses on!”
The next, she’s flying through the air with a dramatic scream.
A loud splash is heard right after, and Daniela flinches.
Water erupts. Sophia’s hoodie balloons up comically in the water.
A roar of cheers erupted as Sophia surfaced. Her glasses are crooked. Her hair is soaked and plastered to her cheeks.
Daniela has whiplash from how fast she went from she looks kinda cute to okay, what the hell she looks kinda…
Lara and Yoonchae are dying laughing, but Daniela can’t stop staring.
Because even drenched, Sophia pushes her hair back, slicks it away from her face, and smiles up at the sky before laughing like she’s never been happier.
Sophia points at both Manon and Megan. “You’re both assholes!”
Megan and Manon doubled over in laughter.
Daniela laughed slightly at that.
Her grip on her drink tightened as if it would help her keep her sanity.
Lara nudges her side with her elbow, grinning as she nods towards Sophia. “Wanna go help your possible lovergirl over there?”
Daniela rolls her eyes, stepping a bit to the side.
“Yeah, give her a towel or something.”
As soon as Yoonchae said that, Lara slipped away to grab a towel from the house.
When she returned, she shoved it into Daniela’s hands with a mischievous grin. “Go on, help her!”
“What—Lara—” Daniela hissed, but Lara was already pushing her forward. Yoonchae took Daniela’s cup from her hand as she passed by.
“Good luck!” The younger girl called out, and Daniela was already out the sliding door.
Sophia climbed out of the pool, sitting on the edge.
She took off her hoodie, leaving her in a white tank top. Her hoodie was dripping, like it had absorbed half of the pool’s water better than a sponge.
In her drunken state, she tried wringing it as if it would help dry faster. Of course, it didn’t.
The water just spilled everywhere, making her pants and tank top more soaked.
Daniela only watched as she took slow, careful steps toward the girl. By that time, the others had already gone back inside.
Even Megan and Manon left Sophia in the pool. Sophia would probably get their asses the next day when she’s sober and finally functioning properly.
Daniela let out a sigh, finally getting the right amount of courage to come up to Sophia and just hand her a towel.
It’s simple.
Just hand her a towel. Nothing more.
Sophia was trying to wipe her glasses with just her hands when a soft voice cut through the loud sound of whatever party song was blasting in the background.
“Here,” Daniela said, holding out a towel.
Sophia blinked, looking up at Daniela with squinted eyes. She looked like she was trying to process her thoughts.
Like she was trying to figure out Daniela’s face, but due to the alcohol in her system and the lack of glasses, she couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.
“You got this for me?” Those were the words that came out of Sophia’s mouth.
Daniela shrugged as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to play it cool. “Technically, Lara got it from somewhere in the house. But… yeah.”
Sophia stared at her for a bit. She was no longer squinting.
Then a soft chuckle came out of her. “Thanks.” She smiled. But it wasn’t the same smile she’d flash around school, no. It was different. Like she was more confident.
Almost like she was teasing.
Sophia took the towel, their fingers brushing, and smiled wider—wet, messy, absolutely radiant. “You’re saving me from hypothermia.”
Daniela laughs, crossing her arms. She felt slightly less nervous now.
It was probably because of the tiny amount of alcohol finally kicking in her system. Probably.
But she’s almost sure that it’s actually because she knew Sophia had had too many drinks, and maybe she might say something while intoxicated.
Like a hint.
Anything.
“You always this confident, or is it just the alcohol?” Daniela blurted out. She didn’t even know why she asked Sophia that question. There were better questions in her head, but she ended up with that.
She cringed a bit when she realized what she had asked.
Sophia stops moving, towel clutched in one hand, then she hums. “Hmm, depends.”
She grins again, that lazy, post-pool, tipsy smile—and Daniela swears her heart stutters.
Sophia starts drying her hair with the towel, still fumbling with her glasses in one hand. The lenses are practically useless now, foggy and streaked with water.
Her tank top clings to her frame, her collarbone sharp, out in the open.
Daniela tries not to stare.
She fails completely.
Daniela finally sits down beside her. She leaves a good amount of space between them, still careful not to get wet.
She momentarily bites the insides of her cheek before speaking up again. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just can’t see shit.” Sophia lets out a soft laugh and tries to put her glasses back on anyway, but one side is bent from the fall. “Wow, I’ve gone blind for real.”
Daniela chuckles and gently reaches over, taking the glasses from her hand. Their fingers brush. Sophia stills.
“You should let these dry properly.”
“You offering to babysit them for me?” Sophia smirks, placing the towel on her shoulders.
Daniela mirrors her expression. “Maybe.” She raises Sophia’s glasses up a bit, “Are you sure these aren’t broken? They seem a little… crooked.”
Sophia’s brows furrow for a split second before leaning back, “Bent. They’re already bent. Maybe it’s a sign for me to get new ones.”
She pauses, then looks down at her pants. “This sucks. My pants feel heavy.” She mumbles under her breath, slowly blinking.
There’s a small smile on Daniela’s lips as she stares at Sophia. There were still other people around them, lounging around the pool, but not too many.
And for a moment, the loud party music became nothing.
Sitting there with Sophia felt like peace wrapped in chaos.
It didn’t take long before Daniela finally relaxed and stopped overthinking.
“You’re interesting, you know that?”
Sophia raises a brow. “Interesting how?”
Daniela shrugged as if she didn’t know why. “Just… not what I expected.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
And they sit in that moment for a beat longer than either of them expected. Close. Quiet. Just the sound of the party still going on behind them, muffled by music and water and the weird, heavy hush of something starting.
Then Sophia turns to her, voice softer now. “So… what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You always show up to parties and end up sitting with soaked nerds by the pool?” Sophia’s eyes are still warm, unreadable behind wet lashes and the ghost of a smirk.
Daniela laughs at that. “Only the ones who get thrown in after losing beer pong.”
Sophia grins—that drunken, goofy grin. “Then I’m honored.”
There’s a little silence after that—comfortable this time.
Sophia wrings out her hoodie beside her again, and Daniela watches how carefully she moves, like she’s not used to having this much attention.
Or maybe she is, but never from someone like Daniela.
“What do you do?” Daniela asks again, and Sophia looks at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Like… in school. What’s your thing? Aside from helping out the theater club.”
Sophia stares at her. There is something in her eyes that Daniela can’t read.
Daniela isn’t sure if that was offensive.
Was it? When you’ve interacted with someone a couple of times, you know their name and their “role” within the school, but not what they do.
Not what they’re like.
Daniela leans back. “Oh, sorry—was that… Was that a bit off? I’ve talked to you a couple of times, and I don’t even know you at all! I was just curious—“
Then Sophia laughs, looking at her like she was being ridiculous. “I get what you’re trying to ask.”
“Right.” Daniela breathes, clenching her jaw.
“Well, I write… You probably already knew that.” Sophia laughs at her own words. “Art, mostly. Music, too, sometimes. I’m a bit of a… passion project person.”
“That’s vague as hell.”
“Good. I like being mysterious.”
Daniela raises a brow. Sophia tries to act cool, but the blush on her cheeks reaches her ears. She clears her throat.
“I work on sets, too… sometimes. The theater club likes me because I don’t talk much and I know how to use power tools.”
“Ooh, so you’re the one everyone calls when their set design falls apart mid-show,” Daniela says with a laugh, amused.
“Well, I’ve only helped them a couple of times, but sure.” Despite what she said, Sophia nods proudly anyway. “That’s me. Glue gun girl. Ruler warrior.”
Daniela laughs again, softer this time. “That’s kind of hot, actually.”
Daniela looks away as if she were the one who received the compliment. She’s not sure why she keeps saying these things.
But Sophia doesn’t seem to mind. “Oh… cool.”
Daniela forces back a smile. Pushing down the cringe to face Sophia once more.
She is actually enjoying this a little too much… minus the parts where she says something she didn’t mean to say out loud.
“What about music?” She asks again.
Sophia shrugs, a little sheepish. “I have good music taste…”
Daniela burst out laughing, leaning back once more before covering her mouth. “Sorry—that’s just—“ she stops and laughs again.
A silly, crooked smile made its way to Sophia’s lips.
Daniela lets out a sigh once she has recovered from laughing, a huge grin on her lips. “No, for real, what do you do?”
“I can play the ukulele, that’s something… guitar, too.”
The younger girl waits for her to say more. As if she knew that Sophia could do other things other than play instruments.
“I guess I can sing, too.”
Daniela smiled widely as if she had won something. “I knew it!”
“Knew what? That I could sing?” Sophia lazily tilted her head to the side. She felt as if her head was becoming heavier by the second.
“Yeah! Well, I assumed that you could. I saw you singing along to one of the songs during the play.”
Sophia stared at her for a few seconds. No words were coming out of her mouth, and not even a reaction was seen on her face.
Daniela’s smile faltered a bit. Did she say too much?
Eventually, Sophia blinks. “Oh…” Then she stops, thinking to herself before nodding slowly. “I was.”
Daniela’s lips pushed into a line, nodding along. “You were.”
Sophia hums, leaning back. “I guess you caught me. Want me to sing for you now?”
Daniela snorts, rolling her eyes playfully before looking away. “ That would be nice… ”
Her words come out as a whisper. Small and soft under all the loud party noise.
“Sorry?”
Daniela shook her head, “Nothing. Just wondered what you'd sound like… I bet you’re good.”
Sophia’s breath hitches. She looks back at her, and for the first time since they started talking, she’s not grinning.
Even in this state, Daniela could still make her feel something.
Just looking.
Soft. Open.
Even the alcohol can’t block off Sophia’s feelings.
“Thanks. That’s nice… despite not knowing if I’m good or not, you assume I am.”
“You’re welcome,” Daniela whispered her answer again.
Another beat of silence. But it’s different now—something heavier lingering between them.
Or maybe it was just the growing feeling inside Daniela. Heavy but warm.
Sophia tilted her head up, looking directly at the sky. The stars seemed brighter tonight, but Sophia thinks it’s just her astigmatism making the stars twinkle brighter than usual.
None of them spoke, and Daniela was starting to think that Sophia might pass out or just shiver silently.
Instead—
“You ever think,” Sophia began, voice a little slurred but soft, “that the stars are just poems… that nobody finished writing?”
Daniela blinked. “…What?”
Sophia leaned back, staring more intently at the night sky. “Like… like the universe just spilled words everywhere, and some of them glowed, and we call them stars. But really they’re just… half-finished poems.”
Sophia turned her head toward her, eyes glassy but burning with some kind of sincerity. “If I could, I’d… I’d rearrange all of them just to spell your name.”
That made Daniela’s heart skip, though she tried to cover it with a small laugh. “You’re drunk.”
“I meant— I’d do it with anyone’s name. But not really, yours would just be fitting.” Sophia says in one breath, almost like she was panicking, but not quite. “And yeah… maybe.”
She shrugged, pulling the towel tighter around herself. “But drunk words are just… sober poems that escaped.”
Daniela stared at her, caught between amusement and fascination. “You always talk like this?”
Sophia hummed, thinking. “No. Usually I… keep it inside. Words. They’re heavy, you know? But tonight they’re floating.” She waved her hand clumsily toward the pool, as if the rippling water held the metaphors she meant.
Daniela leaned in, elbows on her knees, chin on her hand. “Then let them float. I don’t mind catching them.”
Sophia smiled, tipsy and earnest. “You’d catch them? Even if they’re messy?”
To Daniela, it didn’t even look like she was drunk or tipsy. She just looked more confident this way. Smirking and all.
Daniela nodded. “Especially if they’re messy.”
That made Sophia laugh, a soft, breathless sound. She looked at Daniela as though she’d just told her the universe’s best-kept secret. “You’re dangerous.”
Daniela tilted her head. “Dangerous?”
“Yeah,” Sophia murmured, her voice dropping, almost tender. “Because you make me want to say more.”
For a moment, Daniela had completely forgotten about the loud music, the shouts, the party. It was just Sophia—wet hair sticking to her forehead, towel clutched around her shoulders, spouting drunken poetry like it was second nature.
And for some reason, Daniela wanted her to keep going.
Wanted to keep her there and have Sophia ramble on about stupid things—but they weren’t actually stupid.
They sound like buried thoughts that resurfaced after someone had fished them out by mistake. In this situation, it was Daniela who fished them out.
By mistake? Not quite.
Sophia’s eyes were on the sky again. “You know… people say the moon is lonely. But I don’t think it is. I think it’s just waiting for someone brave enough to stay up with it. Everyone falls asleep too early.”
Daniela smiled faintly, almost whispering, “Then maybe it’s not lonely—it’s just… misunderstood.”
Sophia turned to her, eyes widening in drunken awe. “Exactly! Misunderstood. Like… like poetry. People skim it, think it’s hard, but really it’s just waiting for someone patient enough to stay with the words.”
Daniela let out a soft laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
It was beyond amusing to see Sophia like this. She was the same… just had more to say.
“And you’re radiant,” Sophia said without hesitation. Then, for a moment, she opened her mouth again like she was about to say something, but nothing came out. She closes it, frowning.
She looked like she was chasing her own thoughts. Trying to pull it back before it faded from her mind. “Like… like… well, radiant.”
“Uh huh.” Daniela slowly nodded, an easy smile on her lips, waiting patiently for Sophia to say all the words.
Sophia blinks, then quickly she adds, “like… the way a streetlight is radiant. Not a sun. Streetlights are small, but they make you feel safe. You’re like that, I think.”
Daniela froze. Her throat felt tight, so instead she leaned back and gave a nervous little laugh.
She completely ignores what Sophia just said about her, for her sanity. “You know… I actually think about things like that, too. But I never say them out loud.”
Sophia tilted her head, curious. “Why not?”
Daniela hesitated, then shrugged. “Because people think I have nothing else to offer other than my looks. They don’t expect anything from someone like me.”
“But they expect something from me? I don’t get that. What makes you different from me?”
The question echoes in Daniela’s head. It made her think, too. What makes Sophia different from her?
“Well…” She leans her body to one side, almost like she’s about to rock back and forth. “We’re different. You’re Sophia Laforteza, labeled as the school’s smart girl, while I’m Daniela Avanzini. The school’s trophy… a party favor, if you will.”
“You make it sound like it’s bad.” Sophia’s tone was innocent. Like she didn’t know.
Like she had no idea how different and far apart they are from each other’s worlds.
Because Sophia probably never thought that. At least, not in her state right now.
“It’s not… entirely bad. It just gets… sickening sometimes. In everyone’s eyes, you’re an ink. Everyone expects you to spill and leave marks on the papers.”
“If I am, then… What are you?”
“Just a decoration. I exist to make things prettier. For the aesthetics. No one asks what the meaning is behind it. It’s just pretty.” Daniela says with a dismissive shrug.
“But you’re not.”
They stare at each other now, the lights on the pool making both their faces have a light blue glow.
“Everyone’s an ink… Or at least everyone spills eventually. Maybe not everyone leaves stains on papers. Maybe you leave flowers along the path instead.”
Sophia’s words felt like a match lit up Daniela’s insides even without gasoline. It made her stomach churn, and Sophia’s words felt like they crawled around her arms, sending shivers down her spine.
She swallowed the forming lump in her throat before quickly blinking a few times. “I—Yeah… wow…” she breathed out, shakily. “You think so?”
The older girl could only nod, “Flowers could be a decoration. They’re pretty, too… and with meaning.”
Daniela bit her lip. A smile was threatening to stretch across her lips, but she refused to let it appear.
So, she looks down and stares at the water. Eyes following the soft ripples. “Thanks…” she mumbles, almost only to herself. “Anyway—If I said ‘I think shadows follow us because they’re scared of the dark without us,’ everyone would probably roll their eyes.”
Sophia’s eyes widened. She sat up straighter, nearly dropping her towel. “Wait. Say that again?”
Daniela chuckled at her reaction, cheeks flushing. “I said… shadows follow us because they’re scared of the dark without us.”
Sophia clutched at her chest like Daniela had just knocked the air out of her. “That’s so… unfair. You can’t just say something that good and then pretend you’re not a poet.”
Daniela shook her head, amused but a little shy. “I’m not a poet.”
She thought Sophia was being dramatic. Has she always been like this? Dramatic? Or just the alcohol in her system controlling her entirely?
“Yes, you are,” Sophia insisted, pointing at her with drunken conviction. “You’re… you’re a secret poet. Hiding in plain sight.”
Daniela stared at her for a moment, caught in the sincerity of her gaze.
Then, softly, she admitted, “Who knows! Maybe I only say these things when I feel like someone will understand them.”
That silenced Sophia. For a long second, she just looked at Daniela—her words slurring but her heart terrifyingly clear.
“…Then I hope,” Sophia whispered, almost too low for the party noise to drown out, “I can understand you enough?”
Daniela’s breath caught. Like something had blocked her airways.
She didn’t answer, couldn’t. At least, not right away. Instead, she smiled, so softly it almost hurt.
Collecting herself, careful not to let all her walls break apart in front of Sophia.
But she knew she already had.
Daniela whispers back, “Maybe you already do.”
Sophia leaned her head against the towel on her shoulders, eyes hazy but focused entirely on Daniela. “Wanna say something in your mind? You seem to have a lot going on in there. Like—like you said, you think of similar things sometimes. I’m curious what it is.”
Daniela tilted her head, lips curling into a smile as if she’d been waiting for the invitation. “Well, first, I wonder if there are other things in the world that are considered lonely but are actually not. And the opposite.”
Sophia squinted, trying to keep up. “The opposite? Meaning?”
Daniela chuckled, shifting in her spot. “Well… maybe the moon isn’t lonely all the time. But there are times that it is.”
Sophia hummed, tipsy brain latching onto the thought. “That makes sense… would you say the moon is a yearner?”
Daniela burst into laughter, covering her mouth. “A yearner? I guess? How’d you come up with that? That is so random.”
Sophia leaned closer, lowering her voice like it were a secret. “There are a ton of stories about the moon and the sun. Like that one story where the sun and the moon are lovers. Have you heard that?”
Daniela’s brows raised, intrigued. “I’ve heard different renditions. What’s yours?”
Sophia’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Fair. Well, in this story, the moon and the sun were expecting a baby. The sun wanted a baby boy so badly, but the sun got mad when the child came out as a girl. He tore her apart and threw her out the window. But the wind caught the child and put her up in the sky. All of her. Her limbs were scattered up in the sky and turned into stars. The moon stayed with her child, and the sun and the moon were cursed to never see each other again.”
Daniela’s eyes widened, jaw slack. “That’s… brutal.”
Sophia gave a little shrug, staring down at her damp fingers. Her hands were wrinkling by the minute, but she wasn’t in the proper state of mind to care.
“I know. But the part that makes me wonder is… if the sun kept trying to reach the moon, I doubt the moon never yearned. They loved each other too much. The moon would be hurt too.”
Daniela stared at her. Really stared. Because even with the alcohol, the way Sophia said yearned carried a weight that hit her straight in the chest.
“…You’re kind of destroying me right now,” Daniela admitted softly, her laugh thin and unsteady.
Sophia looked at her then, eyes glassy but burning with honesty. “You asked what I meant by a yearner. That’s it. Someone who’s not just waiting—but hurting for what they can’t have. Also, it’s an interesting take on the sun and the moon.”
Daniela’s lips parted, and she whispered back, almost like a confession slipping through her teeth. “Then maybe we’re all yearners.”
Sophia blinked at Daniela’s soft confession, her tipsy mind working slower, but her tongue moving faster.
“I doubt you’re one.”
Daniela tilted her head, a spark of curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Me? You don’t think I yearn?”
“Yeah.” Sophia sat up straighter, towel slipping off her shoulder. Her gaze was steady, almost startlingly earnest despite the alcohol. “I mean… you’re the type of person that people yearn for. Not the type to yearn.”
Daniela’s lips curved, an amused hum vibrating in her chest. “I see.”
There was a pause—light music from the party carried faintly through the air, the smell of chlorine clinging between them. Then Daniela spoke, slower this time, her voice laced with something quieter.
“Maybe… but yearning isn’t always obvious. It can look like stillness. Like a bird perched too long on a branch, staring at the sky as if it forgot it had wings. Or like a letter sealed so tightly, no one thinks to open it—yet inside, it aches to be read.”
Sophia, tipsy, only managed a dreamy sigh. “That’s… pretty. You sound like me now.”
Daniela laughed softly, shaking her head, but there was tension behind it, a hidden pulse Sophia was too foggy to notice.
Because if she were sober—if she really listened—she would have realized: Daniela had just admitted it.
That the bird, the letter… they were her.
Yearning. Quietly. Always.
For the person who kept sending her letters. For the person she thinks could be Sophia.
Sophia shivered as the wind passed by them; her hair was still dripping faintly. She had scooted away from the edge now, folding her arms against her chest and turning the towel into a makeshift blanket.
She thought of it for a second, well, tried .
“Letters sealed too tightly, huh? … That’s funny. I think if a letter was sealed like that, I’d probably… I dunno… tear it open no matter what. Even if I wasn’t supposed to. Just to know what’s inside.”
Daniela felt her chest tightening as she heard the words leave Sophia’s mouth.
Sophia kept going, tipsy and unaware, her voice softer now. “I hate not knowing. I’d rather risk ruining the envelope than… spend forever wondering if it was meant for me or not, y’know?”
“That sounds reckless.” Daniela’s fingers curled slightly on her lap.
Sophia grinned, eyes half-lidded but sincere. “Maybe. But… if it was from someone I cared about? Someone who made me… feel a certain way? Then yeah. I’d open it. Every time.”
Daniela swallowed. Her pulse betrayed her calm smile, thundering in her ears. Because Sophia—drunk, unguarded Sophia—wasn’t talking about her directly.
And yet every word felt like an answer to the very letters Daniela had written in secret.
Aching, yearning answers she wasn’t supposed to hear.
Daniela exhaled sharply. “You know… to me, letters are like… pieces of someone’s heart. People seal them not because they don’t want to be opened, but because they’re scared.”
She had tilted her head slightly, staring at Sophia like she was a puzzle she couldn’t stop trying to solve.
Sophia blinked, her lopsided smile softening. “Scared of what?”
Daniela exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking away for a moment before finding Sophia again. “Scared that if the wrong person opens it, it won’t mean anything. Or worse… it’ll mean too much, and the person won’t feel the same. So… they hide it. They keep sealing, sealing, hoping that maybe the right person will be curious enough to open it anyway.”
“That’s… kinda sad. But also… kinda romantic. Like… the letter’s just waiting. Waiting for the right hands.” Sophia’s voice comes out quieter, thoughtful.
Daniela’s lips curved, but there was no humor in her smile. Only a quiet ache. “Exactly. Some letters are written for only one pair of hands. And even if they’re left unopened forever, the words still belong to them. No one else.”
She’s lost in thought about the real meaning behind her own words. “Letters are addressed to someone… even when there’s no name written. Even if it’s just thoughts that spilled out into the paper—like ink. Like you.” Daniela bit her tongue before rushing out words.
“I mean—you write for someone, don’t you? Maybe for yourself, maybe for another person. But it’s always meant for someone. Someone is bound to read it. And people may assume it’s for them, but the person it truly belongs to would know .”
She stopped herself there, realizing her chest was too tight, her words too close to breaking through. She forced a little shrug, playing it off. “Anyway. That’s just something I think about sometimes. Poetic nonsense, right?”
“If it’s poetic, how is it nonsense?” Sophia was listening too closely, far too carefully.
Like she was trying to untangle Daniela using her eyes and words alone.
And that was scary for Daniela.
It was scary that Sophia knew exactly how to do it so effortlessly.
Because somewhere within Sophia’s words and ramblings, something screams at Daniela.
Shouting, yelling, and confessing loudly.
It’s me. I write you letters. I always have.
And it was getting impossibly hard to ignore.
Daniela ignores Sophia’s question. “You answer with things I don’t agree with, but I like hearing.”
Sophia chuckled softly, voice slow and thick with drink. “Maybe I hold the truth to something… that’s why you listen, why you like hearing what I have to say… even if you don’t like my answers.”
For some reason, that hit Daniela like a chord struck too hard. Her chest tightened, her thoughts spilling before she could stop them. “Yeah, well, you’re right. That’s because your word choices are like pieces to a game that’s too complicated for me.”
Sophia hummed at that, amused, tilting her head back. “It's hard to make a move when it’s your turn, right?”
Daniela’s lips parted. That was exactly what it felt like—the letters, the words, the way they danced around truths without ever saying them.
She swallowed, smiling faintly, almost nervously. “And because your answers aren’t direct. They feel like clues. Like… a puzzle. But one I never know how to solve.” Her voice lowered.
Sophia’s eyes fluttered open again, glassy but glinting with mischief. “That’s how you play a game when it doesn’t make sense.”
Daniela’s brows lifted, leaning forward. “You go in blind?”
Sophia gave her a drunken little smile, eyes slipping closed again. “No… You learn along the way. And as you do… You figure… a lot of things out.”
The words hung between them, heavier than they should’ve been. Daniela’s heart stuttered, because for one dizzying moment—it felt like Sophia was telling her—no, admitting to Daniela that it was her.
Daniela leaned back, still unsettled by how Sophia’s words had clung to her ribs. She let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You sometimes feel like you’re too much of everything… but won’t show anyone anything.”
Sophia cracked one eye open, her lips curving into a lopsided smile once more. “And you…” she paused, the tipsiness making her words slower, but her tone soft, careful, “…you have a lot to share but so little to say.”
The air stilled.
Daniela blinked, caught completely off guard. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Just a quiet, strangled “…oh…” as if Sophia had pulled a secret straight out of her chest without asking.
Sophia only smiled at her, eyes slipping shut again like she hadn’t just shattered Daniela with one sentence.
Daniela sat there, staring, her heart loud in her ears.
She felt the terrifying, exhilarating certainty growing inside her.
You might be them.
And the worst part?
It wasn’t a question she had for herself. It wasn’t a “why?”
Because for the first time, she wanted it to be true.
Suddenly, Sophia shivered violently, still wrapped in the towel but clearly losing to the growing cold night air.
Her teeth started to chatter ever so slightly as she let out a pitiful groan. “I’m dying of hypothermia.”
Daniela burst out laughing at first, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you’re so dramatic—” but the moment she reached out to touch Sophia’s arm, her smile dropped. Her skin was ice cold.
Panic flared in her chest. “You’re freezing. You’re not kidding.”
Sophia gave a weak grin, eyes half-lidded.
“Okay, okay, hang on. I’m going to look for your friends.” Daniela immediately fumbled, pressing the towel closer around her, rubbing Sophia’s arms as if friction alone could help. Her usual confidence crumbled into sharp worry.
She ran back to the house in a hurry.
When she came back, Sophia was murmuring something about Manon and Megan being idiots.
The two girls came running right behind her.
“You guys need to take her home.”
Megan’s eyes widened as she crouched down. “You’re cold as hell!”
“Yeah, and whose fault is that??” Sophia still managed to spit back.
Manon swore under her breath, already pulling out car keys. ”Come on, we’ll get her out of here.” She throws the keys towards Megan, who almost didn’t catch them.
“Uh… can you help me get her up?” Manon turns to Daniela, expression uncertain.
Daniela didn’t even need to respond; she acted right away.
Sophia leaned heavily against Daniela as they hauled her up from the edge of the pool. Her head lolled back slightly against Daniela’s shoulder, breath tickling her neck.
“Thank you, Andrea. You are so nice… unlike my two friends.”
Manon smacked Sophia on the back, “Sophia.” She warned, voice coming out as a hiss.
Daniela blinked. “…What?”
But Sophia had already slipped into another shiver-filled mumble, eyes shutting as Manon steadied her from the other side, still scolding her.
Daniela didn’t have time to dwell on it—her priority was making sure Sophia got home safe.
They rushed her out to the front door, Megan practically running to the car while Manon bundled the towel tighter.
Daniela handed Manon Sophia’s glasses after they helped Sophia get in the car.
“Thanks, Daniela!” Megan and Manon waved through the car’s open window as the car started to slowly move.
Daniela offered them a polite nod and a smile in return, eyes focused on Sophia’s unmoving figure in the backseat.
When they drove off, Daniela stood outside the house. She watched as the car drove farther away.
So many things happened, Daniela could barely comprehend everything.
“Hey, everything good?” Lara slipped out of the house, still holding a drink in one hand.
Daniela turns to her for a second before looking back at the now-empty street.
All the events that happened during the past minutes she was there replayed in her mind. From the moment they arrived to the moment she saw Sophia and sat beside her on the edge of the pool.
But everything didn’t sink in quickly.
All she could think about was Sophia. Her smiles, her words, her voice, her drunken actions, and the way she made Daniela feel.
She can’t say any of those out loud… not yet.
“Yeah. They just left.” She mumbled before turning and going back inside the party with Lara immediately following close behind.
—
The sun stabbed through the curtains, and Sophia groaned like the world itself was ending.
Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, her mouth dry as sandpaper. She shifted slightly, only to freeze when she realized there was weight on her legs.
Blinking through the haze, she found Megan curled up at the foot of her bed, mouth open in soft snores. Her gaze drifted across the room—Manon was sprawled sideways on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge, blanket half on the floor.
They were in her room, and both Manon and Megan were still wearing the same clothes they had worn from the party.
While Sophia had a different outfit.
“…What the hell happened last night?” Sophia whispered to herself.
She pushed herself up slowly, regretting it instantly as her head pounded harder.
Megan stirred awake when Sophia moved her legs, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“Morning, champ,” Megan croaked. “How’s hypothermia treating you?”
Sophia blinked. “What—hypo—what?”
Manon groaned from the couch, voice muffled. “You got thrown in the pool, dumbass. After losing beer pong. Twice.”
Sophia’s brows knitted together. “I… what? Pool? No, I…” She tried to remember, but the night was a blur of noise, laughter, and cheap, blinding party lights.
Megan sat up and stretched. “You were shivering like crazy, couldn’t even stand straight. Daniela helped you until we got to you.”
Sophia’s entire body went still. “…Daniela?”
Manon cracked one eye open. “Yeah. She wrapped you in a towel, kept yelling at us that you were freezing. Looked genuinely freaked out.”
Megan let out a sleepy chuckle at Manon’s explanation.
That was all it took.
The memories came back like an avalanche: Daniela crouched beside her, eyes wide with concern.
Daniela’s warm hands pressing the towel around her.
Daniela’s laughter at her dramatics. Daniela’s voice, soft and close, as she rubbed warmth back into her arms.
And then—her own voice. Weak, slurred, whispering—
Thank you, Andrea. You are so nice… unlike my two friends.
Her stomach dropped. Her breath hitched.
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Sophia buried her face in her hands.
Megan frowned. “Uh… you good?”
But Sophia was already curling forward, crashing onto her knees on the floor, her hair falling in front of her face like a curtain as if that could shield her from the memory. Her heart was hammering.
She’d said it. She’d actually said it.
The room tilted as panic drowned out her hangover.
“Oh my god,” Sophia muttered into her palms, voice muffled and horrified. “I’m dead. I’m dead. Bury me now.”
Manon and Megan exchanged a look.
“What the hell did you say to her?” Megan asked carefully.
Sophia groaned louder, collapsing flat on the carpet. “Don’t ask me that. Don’t ever ask me that. I’ll never recover.”
—
The morning at Lara’s house was lazy and slow, sunlight pouring through the sheer curtains of her guest room.
Lara had taken them both back to her house an hour after Manon and Megan took Sophia home.
Daniela sat cross-legged on the couch inside the room in one of Lara’s oversized hoodies, a mug of tea in her hands.
Yoonchae was sprawled on the carpet with her phone, while Lara sat beside Daniela, brushing out her still-damp hair.
“So,” Lara asked with a sly grin, “what were you and Sophia talking about by the pool last night? You were gone for a while.”
Daniela took a sip of tea, humming. “Nothing crazy. Just… weird things. Poetic things. She was tipsy and rambling about moons and yearning, and I… kind of rambled back. It was nice.”
Yoonchae lifted her head, blinking. “Poetic things? Like what?”
Daniela smiled faintly. “Like… loneliness. The moon. Stories about the sun tearing the moon’s child apart—I… I know, it was strange, but…” she snorted as she remembered how Sophia randomly brought that story up. “I liked it. It felt like she was—hm.”
She cut herself off with a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
Lara squinted at her. “No, no, keep going. Felt like she was what?”
Daniela tilted her mug, eyes thoughtful. “…Felt like she was talking in riddles I’d already heard before. Just… differently.”
The room went quiet for a moment, both Lara and Yoonchae exchanging a quick glance.
“And then,” Daniela continued, setting her mug down, “she got too cold. Like freezing cold. I panicked and called for her friends. And before they took her home…”
She hesitated. Her lips quirked upward, but her brows furrowed. “…she called me Andrea.”
Yoonchae shot upright. “She what??”
Lara froze mid-brush. “Excuse me—what did you just say?”
Daniela nodded slowly, almost like she was still trying to believe it herself. “Yeah. She literally thanked me and called me Andrea. My second name. ”
Yoonchae’s eyes widened so much they nearly popped out. “But how—“ she cuts herself off, frowning and blinking a couple of times.
She looked confused now. Like her brain had stopped working and processing whatever Daniela just said.
Lara dropped the brush onto the couch, staring at Daniela like she’d just confessed to murder. “Daniela… I fear that it's not just drunk rambling.”
“What do you mean?” Daniela asked, feigning nonchalance, but her voice wavered slightly.
Lara leaned forward. “She knows your second name . Dani, tell me who else in that god forsaken school knows your second name?”
Daniela blinked. “Uhm… not many?”
Yoonchae grabbed a pillow and smacked Daniela with it. “Dani! Your secret admirer literally knows your full name! And then Sophia knows your second name?? Like, since when?!”
Daniela blinked, laughing nervously. “Wait, wait, wait—don’t jump to conclusions—”
But Lara was already clutching her head, dramatically. “Oh, my god. Daniela. Daniela. Sophia literally handed you a hint! A clue! God, that’s a dead giveaway! And you’re denying it?!”
Daniela’s laughter died in her throat. Her chest tightened. The thought flickered sharp and bright in her mind—Sophia’s drunken, tender voice calling her Andrea.
“Let’s not…” Daniela whispered, more to herself than to them. “Let’s not think about that…”
Yoonchae threw her hands up. “What do you mean?? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? A hint from her?”
Daniela bit her lip, looking at the floor. She gripped the mug like her life depended on it. “Yeah, but… what if it’s just a crazy coincidence, y’know? I don’t want to have expectations of who my secret admirer is. It’ll ruin everything… it’ll feel real… and when the truth comes out and it’s not her… then what do I do?”
“But Dani, this is too much of a coincidence. What’s stopping you from actually accepting Sophia as your letter sender?” Lara had tilted her head to the side, curious.
Daniela was so sure that Sophia was possibly the person behind the letters. Lara and Yoonchae even helped her gather “evidence.”
But now… It’s like she’s denying every progress they’ve had with gathering evidence.
Daniela doesn’t talk.
Yoonchae’s brow twitches. She and Lara were both confused.
“Is it… are you scared?” Yoonchae asks carefully.
“I am.” Daniela breathes out, hands gripping the mug tighter if that was even possible. “I really am.”
“Is it really because you don’t want to expect or… because you’re already expecting?” Lara was the one to ask this time.
And Daniela felt something twist inside her throat and chest.
Because Lara said exactly what she was thinking.
She was already expecting it to be Sophia.
She was hoping that it was her… and after last night? She wants it to be Sophia.
She’s not even questioning it anymore.
“I am,” Daniela said, sounding so confident, so sure. “I want it to be her and no one else…”
—
Monday came too soon.
Sophia walked into campus with her hoodie pulled low, her bag heavy on her back, the taste of nerves still clinging to her tongue.
Her head still hurt from the weekend, but it wasn’t the hangover that bothered her.
It was Daniela.
Daniela laughing with her by the pool. Daniela’s hand steady on her arm. Daniela’s voice, soft and teasing, but spilling out truths she shouldn’t have heard.
She avoided the library, avoided even looking in that direction. But habit carried her to the row of lockers.
Locker 210.
She had asked Manon to send out another announcement, telling the students that locker 210 is now back in business.
Her hand twitched. She doubts there are any requests inside. They sent the announcement over the weekend, but no one would go to school to put a request inside the locker during the weekends.
And yet, she had the strong urge to open it.
She shouldn’t open it.
But her body moved on its own before her mind caught up. The lock clicked open.
Something slipped and fluttered to the floor.
Sophia froze.
A letter.
Her breath hitches as she sees Daniela’s handwriting on it. The familiar letters, DA, were written at the back like always.
Shaking fingers picked it up, unfolded the paper.
She started to read.
And each word was an arrow, a spear, a heat-seeking missile that landed exactly where it was meant to: in her chest.
“Dear whoever,
I’m in awe.
I saw the painting. You’re brave, aren’t you? Disappearing like that and then painting me in the art room on top of our strokes like you’re claiming me in front of everyone.
I should be mad. I should be. You disappeared without notice, and I couldn’t get a hold of you.
And yet I feel nothing but warmth towards you right now. It’s unfair.”
Sophia’s knees nearly buckled.
“How you pull me in one direction, let go of me for a second, leaving me to struggle with your absence and with questions I’ll never get to ask, and then pull me once more—completely engulfing me with your presence through poems.
I hate you. I despise you.
I’d say that if the world flipped and words meant the opposite of what they truly mean.
You have taken up whatever space there is left in my mind, and it’s driving me crazy.
How dare you paint me like I’m a book you’d read multiple times until the pages wore out and put annotations over. How dare you paint me and tell me you refuse to put me on a pedestal? How dare you tell me you make mistakes, but capture me as if I am nothing but perfect?
You’re not asking if I like it, but it feels like you are.
I like it. I like the painting. I love it, even. I hate how much I love it. I hate the fact that there are real parts of me in that painting—my strokes, my own artistic touches, my writings—everything.
I hate you for weaponizing it and turning it into a gift.
How dare you make me look for you everywhere I go? How dare you make me feel like my chest is too small for my own heart whenever I think about you?
You turn my words against me.
I’m supposed to be in control of my letters and poetry and metaphors—yet you sneak into them like you’ve been living there all along.
Do you realize what you’re doing to me?
I shouldn’t admit this. I shouldn’t give you the satisfaction. But I will. Because you’ll never hear it directly from my lips, only through the cracks of my words, hidden here where you’ll never see it.
You are ruining me.
And I can’t stop letting you.
Call this whatever you’d like. Anything. I’d still hate you for it.
Unfortunately, yours,
DA.”
Her throat went dry. Her heart thundered.
It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even annoyance. It wasn’t anything Sophia had feared for months.
It was a confession.
Hidden in venom, wrapped in resentment, coded in metaphors. But it was there. Clear as day.
Daniela had written it.
Daniela had admitted it.
Daniela was falling.
Or… she already fell.
And Sophia felt herself unravel.
She gripped the paper so tightly it wrinkled under her palms, eyes blurring, mind spinning in a thousand directions.
She wanted to laugh, to cry, to run, to scream—because the girl she had loved in silence, the girl she had spent days and endless nights writing poems and letters to, the girl she had painted and written about in shadows—had just confessed to her in a letter that wasn’t even meant for her eyes.
And suddenly, Sophia was terrified of what came next.
The paper felt like it burned against her skin, her touch.
Sophia stuffed it in her hoodie pocket like hiding it could make it less real, but every time she blinked, Daniela’s words etched themselves sharper and sharper into her head.
“You have taken up whatever space there is left in my mind, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“How dare you…”
“I hate you for weaponizing it and turning it into a gift.”
Her chest ached.
It wasn’t just guilt—it was panic. Pure panic.
The entire morning, she couldn’t breathe right. Her art history professor asked her a question, and she couldn’t even register it, only muttering something incoherent.
She skipped her next class entirely, pacing the quad with trembling hands buried in her pockets.
She couldn’t look at the auditorium doors or at the library. The memories of her interactions with Daniela within those walls haunted her.
She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Daniela’s face—knowing that those words, those confessions, were hers.
Every time someone laughed too loudly, every time she heard footsteps behind her, Sophia whipped her head around like she was about to be caught. Like Daniela would suddenly appear and rip the letter from her hands.
By lunch, she hadn’t eaten. Her appetite was gone. Her mouth was dry. She sat at their usual table with Manon and Megan, staring blankly at her tray.
“Okay…” Megan finally said, poking her arm with a fry. “What’s up with you? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Sophia didn’t answer. Just blinked.
Manon tilted her head, frowning. “No, she looks worse than a ghost. She looks like… like she found out she’s the ghost.”
“Very funny,” Sophia muttered, trying to sound normal. But her voice cracked.
“Soph,” Megan narrowed her eyes. “You’re pale as shit. You should drink some water. Did you even sleep? Did the hangover hit you late or something?”
Sophia pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “No, it’s not— I just— I don’t…” She clutched her hoodie pocket where the letter was hidden. Her hand trembled.
Manon’s eyes flicked to the movement, then back up to Sophia’s face. She softened. “Hey. Talk to us. What happened?”
It was ridiculous that Sophia was acting like this over a letter. A letter from Daniela.
She had always received one from her, but why did this certain letter break her so badly? She should be happy, she really should.
Because Daniela literally confessed. She admitted. She’s not just interested anymore; she likes Sophia.
Or at least the person Daniela thinks she is—the letter sender.
But how could she like someone she doesn’t know?
How could she say those things without knowing who the person is? Without knowing their name and their face?
Sophia’s throat closed. She wanted to say it. She wanted to spill everything—the painting, the letter, Daniela, the confession—but the thought made her chest squeeze tighter, like the world would end if she said it out loud.
Why was it such a problem?
Instead, she forced a weak laugh. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Megan and Manon exchanged looks over her head. The kind of look that said: we don’t buy this shit for a second.
“Right,” Megan said slowly, leaning back. “So tired you can’t eat? So tired you’re jumpy like you’re being hunted?”
Sophia stayed silent.
Manon propped her chin in her hand, studying Sophia carefully. “Whoever put that look on your face… it’s not just ‘tired.’”
Sophia’s heart lurched. She gripped her pocket tighter, nails digging into the paper inside.
She thought, “ I don’t deserve to want her back.“
Maybe it was a problem because she thinks she’s fooling Daniela. By painting herself using her words. By setting up an image she knows she couldn’t live by.
That would be enough to make Daniela expect something. Expect more… expect a certain person.
And what if Sophia isn’t the person she was expecting? What if Daniela had a completely different person in mind? What then?
Once the truth is out, they’ll both walk away with disappointment in their hearts. Heavy and bitter.
It left a very sour taste in her mouth. She wanted to gag and vomit because it made her uneasy. It made her sick to her stomach.
Sophia’s a coward. She admits that she is.
She uses her words; she hides behind each syllable. Using every letter as a shield.
And Daniela doesn’t deserve someone like that. She deserves someone who doesn’t hide, who isn’t scared. Someone who isn’t a coward.
It would be unfair for Daniela, who practically hid her true self behind a fake front.
She doesn’t need someone who hides when she’s already hiding.
All Sophia could manage was a shaky laugh. “It’s nothing. Seriously.”
But Megan and Manon weren’t fooled. Not one bit.
—
What Daniela wasn’t expecting was a letter appearing instantly the next day inside her locker.
After what she had written in her letter—literally a confession out of spite—she didn’t think she’d receive a response right away.
She thought she was going to have to wait again before she got anything back. She didn’t even know if locker 210 was back in business.
She just decided that she’d slip her letter inside the locker as early as 6 AM on a Monday morning.
Now, she has the letter in her hands.
The library was quiet, save for the occasional turning of a page. Daniela sat tucked away in one of the corners, Sophia’s letter spread out on the table in front of her.
She wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.
Then again, Daniela would fight anyone who tries to even peek at the letter.
Her fingers pressed against the paper like it might burn her if she let go.
“Dear Daniela,
I read your words.
And then I read them again. And again.
If words were arrows, then yes—I’m walking around like a porcupine right now. Thanks for that. I’ve never looked better.”
Daniela groaned under her breath, dragging her hands down her face.
It came out louder than she intended, and someone shushed her from across the room. She shrank into her chair, biting the inside of her cheek.
But her heart—it wouldn’t slow down.
She scanned the next lines, her eyes tracing Sophia’s messy, poetic spirals.
“You say I’ve taken up space in your mind. That’s funny, because you’ve set up camp on mine a long time ago. Not a neat little tent either—no, you’ve built an entire village. Sometimes it feels like a festival is happening there—fireworks, parades, the works. Other times, it’s just you sitting in the quiet, in the middle of it all, not saying a word, and somehow that’s louder.
I’m not sure what to do with the way you say “I hate you.” I laughed the first time. Then I wanted to cry. Then I laughed again.
I think the truth is that it’s neither hate nor love you’re talking about—it’s the space between, the place where words don’t work, so you use them backwards.
Or maybe you mean the space between everything where love is too obvious and silence is too unbearable.
Whichever it is, I do that, too… I live there, too.
And about the painting—weaponizing wasn’t the goal. But maybe you’re right. Maybe it was a little reckless. Maybe it was my way of saying the things I don’t know how to say without my tongue turning into knots.
Do you know what I thought when I saw it finished? Not “victory.” Not “claim.” Just… oh. There you are. You’ve been here all along, and finally, I can show everyone how I see you.
So yes, maybe I’m brave. Or maybe I’m just stupid. Or both. Probably both.
You said I pull you in one direction, let go, then pull again. If it helps, I do the same thing to myself. I’ve been dizzy for a while now. But maybe that’s the only way I know how to keep someone close—by keeping them moving with me.
If you are a book, then I’ve already dog-eared my favorite pages. If you are a song, I’ve been humming you under my breath when no one’s listening. And if you are a painting… then yes, I’ll keep painting you, even if you never asked me to.”
Daniela’s chest tightened. It was ridiculous, the way her throat closed up at those words, like she’d swallowed something too big. She pressed the back of her hand against her lips, blinking rapidly.
“Festival in her head? Dog-eared pages? Humming me like a song?” She muttered, shaking her head. “She’s not even subtle about it anymore.”
And yet, somehow, it still wasn’t a confession. Not in the way Daniela wanted. Not in the clear, cut-through-the-noise, “I like you and I want you” kind of way. No—Sophia danced around her, dangling riddles and metaphors.
But then again, she did the same thing in her own letter, anyway.
It was frustrating. Maddening.
And still, Daniela felt her pulse quicken, her face heating at every word.
She reached the end.
The one that definitely takes the cake.
“So if you’re mad, stay mad. If you hate me, keep hating me. If your arrows find me again, I’ll just collect them and start building a roof. And if you like me—even if you’ll never admit it—then keep writing. Because I like reading you more than I like reading anything else.
Yours (against better judgment),
Whoever.”
Daniela squeezed her eyes shut. Her legs curled up against the library chair, her entire body folding in on itself like she was trying to contain the storm inside.
“She’s going to kill me,” Daniela whispered to no one, voice cracking just a little. “She’s actually going to kill me…”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to kiss whoever—Sophia—until she stopped talking in puzzles.
Instead, she sat there in silence, cheeks burning, the corners of her lips tugging upward against her will.
It was annoying that Sophia could write like that.
If it was truly Sophia…
But her writings and sentiments felt so familiar, so similar to the way Sophia spoke. Especially now that Daniela had spoken to her at that party.
She’s still scared. Very scared. But with the new letter showing up in her locker and her reading through it? Maybe she can expect a little.
Maybe she can hope.
Maybe she can prove it even more.
And Daniela’s willing to push her until Sophia finally gives in and tells her.
Tell her what exactly? That she likes her? That she was the person behind the letters?
Both would be great.
Daniela slammed Sophia’s letter shut against the table, earning another “shhh!” from some random student in the library. She shot them a glare, then bent over, dragging her notebook out of her bag. Her handwriting came out sharp and fast, like her pulse was leaking through the pen.
“Dear infuriating person,
(You’re not getting a fancy title this time. I’m disoriented.)
You really are cruel. Do you know that? Pure evil, actually.
You write like you’re almost confessing, and then you pull back. You circle around the truth like it’s a flame you’re afraid to burn your wings on. Do you think that’s fair? To dangle meaning in front of me like this?
You call me a festival, a song, a collection of dog-eared pages. Do you realize what you’re saying? Do you realize how it sounds?
Because I do. I hear it. And I hate that my heart reacts every single time.
I hate how you hide your truths in riddles. I hate how you make me feel like I’m playing a game with no rules—because how far am I supposed to go without violating anything? I hate how every answer you give me makes me feel seen in ways I didn’t ask for.
But more than that—I hate how much I love it.
I hate that I sit here reading your words over and over, dissecting them like they’re meant for me. (I know they are.)
Do you know what you’re doing to me? No, of course you don’t.
You once said games don’t have to make sense—that you learn along the way. Fine. Maybe I’ll learn. Maybe I’ll even play.
But if this is a game, then tell me—how do I win?
Because right now it feels like the only way to win… is to lose myself to you completely.
Yours,
DA.”
She dropped her pen, breathing hard like she’d just run a mile. She hated how her hands were shaking.
“This is so… ridiculous…” Daniela muttered, folding the page and sliding it into an envelope before she could stop herself.
Her face was still burning when she wrote her initials down.
—
It seems as though Daniela was challenging Sophia to a fight. Or Daniela is rapidly writing out letters the moment she receives Sophia’s.
Because the next day, Daniela’s letter was staring at her as she opened locker 210. It didn’t help that it was on top of the pile of requests and paper bills.
Of course, Sophia has priorities.
She compiled all the requests first before shoving them inside her bag. She tells herself that she’ll look through the pile first before she opens Daniela’s letter.
But the next second, Sophia is sitting at her desk in the art room, an untouched sketchbook open in front of her. Daniela’s new letter was resting in her lap, heavy like it carried a hundred-pound weight inside.
Despite telling herself that she’ll look through the pile of requests first, she breaks the seal and begins to read the letter.
The further her eyes moved down the page, the stiffer her body became. Her lips parted, her fingers clutching the paper so tightly it crinkled. She might even rip it.
Daniela’s words were sharp, impatient, almost angry— but threaded with something else. Something too raw.
Then she reached a certain line that sent shivers down her spine.
“You once said games don’t have to make sense—that you learn along the way. Fine. Maybe I’ll learn. Maybe I’ll even play.”
Her stomach instantly dropped, a hot wave of realization crashing into her.
The party. By the pool. Her drunk self, rambling, slurring philosophy about the moon and games that don’t make sense.
“Fuck…” she whispered, clutching the letter tighter.
She leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, heart racing so fast it felt like she’d run out of air.
“Does she know it’s me? No—no, she couldn’t… she wouldn’t… that’s just impossible.” Sophia muttered, words spilling out to no one. “Why would she write this? Why would she sound so—so confident, like she knows?!”
She pressed her palm to her forehead, groaning. The paper crinkled in between her forehead and her palm as she held it close and rocked forward in her chair.
“She sounds so sure, like she’s got me cornered. What the hell, Daniela? What the hell…”
For the first time since she started writing the letters, Sophia didn’t feel like the one holding the strings.
A little while later, Manon and Megan had found her pacing inside the art room for the past ten minutes or so.
The letter was still clenched in her fist like it was a live grenade. Her hair was a mess, her hoodie half-zipped, and she looked like she hadn’t blinked in hours.
Manon leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching her with a raised brow. Megan sprawled lazily in a chair, picking at the corner of her notebook.
“Okay,” Megan finally said, bored. “Spit it out. You’ve been muttering the same thing over and over. We can’t even understand it.”
Sophia stopped mid-step, whipped around, and groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “She knows.”
Manon rolled her eyes. “You’ve said that like a hundred times before, and it’s always false.”
“No.” Sophia jabbed her finger against the letter, eyes wide and frantic. “This time she really DOES know.”
Megan sat up a little, intrigued. “How are you so sure?”
Sophia slapped the letter on the table with enough force that Megan flinched. “Because she gave me this. And in this—” she stabbed at the paper with her finger, “—she fucking quoted me. Using the exact stupid, philosophical shit I said at the party when I was drunk out of my mind. ”
“...Wait,” Manon said slowly. “Like… word for word? Is this why you’ve been acting weird lately?”
“Yes!” Sophia groaned, collapsing into a chair, burying her face in her arms. “Word for word. I am screwed. Game over. Done. Goodbye, Sophia, hello prison of my own making.”
Megan leaned over, plucking the letter to skim it.
Manon whistled low, almost impressed. “Damn. So either she’s just really poetic and accidentally tripped over your words…”
“Or,” Megan cut in, smirking. “She’s got your ass cornered.”
Sophia let out a pitiful whine into her sleeve. “Don’t say that… please don’t say that…”
—
There was only one thing Sophia could do to help her situation.
It’s to make a letter and deny everything. Simple and easy.
Sophia sat hunched over the desk, chewing on the end of her pen like her life depended on it. The cursed letter from Daniela was spread out beside her, mocking her with its perfectly slanted handwriting.
Manon and Megan sat on either side, grinning like hyenas watching their prey.
“You’re really writing back right now?” Megan teased, peering over Sophia’s shoulder.
“I have to, ” Sophia hissed, “If I don’t save face, she’ll know for sure.”
“She already knows,” Manon sing-songed.
“Shut up,” Sophia muttered, scribbling furiously on the paper.
Her first lines were:
“Dear Daniela,
First of all—let me clear a few things up:
I never said that. You must have mistaken me for someone else.
…Do you have other pen pals? Other secret admirers? Should I be jealous?
Just kidding. (Kind of. Actually, I’d cry. This is a joke… or maybe not.)”
Megan nearly fell off her chair laughing. “Oh my god, that’s pathetic. I love it.”
Manon leaned in, smirking. “You’re literally gaslighting her in a letter… I’m impressed.”
Sophia groaned. “What else am I supposed to do?! She quoted me like she’s Sherlock Holmes and I’m the suspect caught holding the murder weapon!”
“Maybe don’t write like you’re texting her from prison,” Megan suggested between giggles.
Sophia ignored them and kept scribbling more.
“Anyway. Moving on.
You said you’ll play the game. That’s brave of you. I don’t know what you’ll end up learning, but I think that’s the point—you’re not supposed to know. Games don’t always make sense, right? You just keep moving pieces until suddenly they do. And maybe you’ll lose a round, or three, or ten, but you’ll also discover patterns no one else sees.
And maybe that’s the fun of it. Or maybe it’s just stupid. Who knows. (Definitely not me. I’m winging this like a pigeon in a hurricane.)”
Manon snorted. “This is insane. If she doesn’t know it’s you now, she’ll know because you sound exactly like yourself. Poetic, annoying, mysterious for no reason—check, check, check.”
Sophia threw her pen at her. “You’re no help.”
Megan leaned back, looking smug. “Nah, this is gold. Daniela’s going to lose her mind reading this.”
Sophia groaned again, head hitting the desk. “That’s the problem!”
—
“Dear Daniela,
First of all—let me clear a few things up:
I never said that. You must have mistaken me for someone else.
…Do you have other pen pals? Other secret admirers? Should I be jealous?
Just kidding. (Kind of. Actually, I’d cry. This is a joke… or maybe not.)
Anyway. Moving on.
You said you’ll play the game. That’s brave of you. I don’t know what you’ll end up learning, but I think that’s the point—you’re not supposed to know. Games don’t always make sense, right? You just keep moving pieces until suddenly they do. And maybe you’ll lose a round, or three, or ten, but you’ll also discover patterns no one else sees.
And maybe that’s the fun of it. Or maybe it’s just stupid. Who knows. (Definitely not me. I’m winging this like a pigeon in a hurricane.)
You said I “claimed” you with that painting. That I weaponized it. I didn’t mean to. But I won’t lie—I like that you see yourself in it. Because it’s true. You’re already written into every part of it. I didn’t put you there. You just… were.
And about the pedestal thing?
I wasn’t lying.
You’re not on one. You’re somewhere far more dangerous—somewhere I actually look straight at.
Which is worse. (For me, not you. You’ll be fine. Probably.)
So yeah. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did disappear only to show up again and pull you in like nothing happened. If I did, I’m sorry. (Not for pulling you in. Just for the disappearing part. I’ll try not to do that again.)
That’s all.
Yours,
Whoever.“
When Daniela was done reading Sophia’s letter, she was seconds from crashing out. It was serious.
She has had enough of the games that her admirer, or Sophia, or whoever is playing.
Daniela is at her wits' end, and she wants this stupid and ridiculous game to stop.
When Megan said that Daniela was going to lose her mind while reading Sophia’s letter, it was a joke.
But Daniela is actually losing her mind.
She’s tired of the chase. Tired of pretending that she can keep waiting.
So Daniela writes her heart out with real anger and frustration this time. The past few days have been her and Sophia passing letters every day without fail.
Daniela isn’t sure if this is Sophia’s way of making it up to Daniela for disappearing, but that didn’t really matter anymore.
She knows it’s her. She’s certain now. No maybes, no what ifs.
—
“Dear whoever,
You say all these things. These poetic and romantic things that take my breath away, like you’re trying to kill me.
And you must be killing me, because I’ve become desperate.
I have been patient. From the very start, I have been patient. I loved this game of cat and mouse, of not knowing who you are while you seem to know every little thing about me. I enjoyed it, yes. I enjoyed the chase, the thrill, the mystery.
But it’s starting to become unfair.
Drop the poetry and be forward with me. You can make up an excuse and say that you’re a coward, or you can apologize again and never show your face at all. But if you mean even a fraction of the things you write, then stop hiding behind your words.
Because I am yearning.
Yearning and longing for you.
From the very moment you showed me what being loved feels like beyond my walls—walls I thought no one would ever bother to climb—you broke through just by using words.
And now I’m here, exposed.
So let me give you this: I am almost certain of who you are. Almost.
But if you know that I know, if you even suspect that my guess is right, then prove it. Show me.
Drop everything. You don’t have to keep flattering me through letters; you don’t have to admire me from afar. Tell me directly. Look me in the eyes and say it.
I won’t hide anymore, only if you no longer run away from me.
Keep me close.
Yours,
Daniela.”
Sophia sits slumped at her usual corner table in the library, Daniela’s newest letter spread out in front of her like it’s a death sentence. She’s read it three times already, each word carving deeper into her chest.
Her fingers trace “Keep me close” over and over until she wants to scream.
“She knows. She definitely knows,” she mutters under her breath, defeated. The thought of confronting Daniela—of Daniela confronting her —makes her pulse thunder in her ears.
How would she even reveal herself? When she’s too scared to even face Daniela despite the spiteful assurances in her letter.
She stuffs the letter into her bag, trying to convince herself she can pretend it doesn’t exist.
She needs a distraction, anything. Books. She’ll grab a random book, bury herself in words that aren’t hers, ones that won’t betray her.
She drags herself into the aisles, running her hand along spines absentmindedly, pulling out titles she doesn’t even register. She rounds the corner and freezes almost instantly.
There, tucked between two shelves, sitting cross-legged on the floor like the library is her personal living room, is Daniela.
A paperback in hand, head tilted, her dark curls falling loosely around her face as she reads.
Sophia’s breath catches so hard it hurts.
Daniela senses it—of course, she does. She looks up, eyes lifting from the page. And suddenly, they’re staring at each other through the silence of the library.
For a heartbeat, Sophia swears she sees recognition flicker in Daniela’s gaze. Something sharp, something knowing.
Her stomach drops.
Daniela doesn’t speak. She just raises an eyebrow, lips curving into the faintest, most infuriating half-smile, as if she’s caught Sophia red-handed in a game Sophia thought she was still winning.
Then she looks back down at the open book in her lap like nothing happened.
Sophia clutches the book in her hands like a shield, her mind screaming a million excuses, but nothing comes out.
The air between them is suffocating, heavy with everything unspoken.
And for the first time, Sophia thinks: Maybe it’s too late to run.
She forces herself to breathe properly. Play it cool. Play it cool. She internally repeats to herself like a prayer.
She steps closer, peering down at the cover in Daniela’s lap. Her heart skips a beat.
“This Is How You Lose the Time War,” she says before she can stop herself. “I’ve read that before.”
Daniela’s eyes flick up to her, and there’s this faint, knowing curve to her lips, the kind of smile that makes Sophia’s pulse stutter.
“I’m only starting,” Daniela replies, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
Sophia swallows, shifting the book in her hands like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “How is it?”
Daniela’s smile widens. “It’s good! I’m loving it so far. Especially their letters… It’s fun.”
Letters.
The word lands between them like a match struck in a dark room. Neither of them moves, but the silence crackles, dangerous and heavy.
Sophia forces herself to nod, pretending the blood rushing to her face isn’t obvious. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “The letters are… the best part.”
For a moment, they just hold each other’s gaze. And it’s all there—everything they aren’t saying, everything burning just under the surface.
Sophia feels it deep inside her chest. They both know.
But instead of running, she simply lets the silence linger, the unspoken truth curling in the air like smoke.
Daniela shifts, patting the empty space on the floor beside her. “You can sit, if you want.”
Sophia blinks. Her brain scrambles for a polite excuse, for a reason to gracefully retreat before she combusts on the spot.
But nothing comes. Not a single clever deflection, not even a bad joke.
“…Sure,” she hears herself say, her body moving before her mind can catch up.
She lowers herself to the ground, shoulder brushing the faintest distance from Daniela’s.
Daniela goes back to her book, but Sophia swears she can see the smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to her.
Sophia tilts her head toward the cover. “You’ll like where it goes,” she says softly. “The letters… they’re different from any love story you’ve read before.”
Daniela hums, flipping a page, her fingers grazing the paper with care. “Different is good. Makes it feel real.”
Sophia bites back a laugh. Real. If only Daniela knew how real this was.
Or maybe she does.
The silence stretches, not awkward, but charged. Thick with all the things Sophia is too scared to admit and all the things Daniela has been writing in secret.
For once, Sophia doesn’t try to run from it. She just sits there, shoulder warm against Daniela’s, listening to the quiet sound of pages turning, her heart beating far too fast to be normal.
Daniela flips another page, humming thoughtfully, and then, without looking up, she goes, “You know, these letters kind of remind me of… someone.”
Sophia stiffens. “…Oh?”
Daniela finally glances at her, her smile faint but wickedly knowing. “Mhm. The way they write—always dramatic, a little poetic, sometimes even funny. Like they’re trying to hide behind their words, but you can still tell how they feel.”
Sophia nearly chokes on air. “…Sounds… familiar?”
Daniela tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Mm, maybe. You ever write letters, Sophia?”
Sophia’s brain screams abort, abort, but all that comes out is a strangled laugh. “Not… not really. No.” She lies through her teeth.
Daniela narrows her eyes, lips curving like she knows. “Shame. You’d be good at it.”
Sophia wants the floor of the library to open up and swallow her whole.
Daniela just turns back to her book, clearly satisfied with Sophia’s complete meltdown, while Sophia is sitting there gripping her knees, silently begging her heart to calm down.
Sophia is begging her brain to chill.
Don’t spiral, don’t spiral, she doesn’t know, she’s just joking, she’s just being Daniela. We’re still safe!
But when she finally sneaks a glance, Daniela’s already looking at her. Their eyes meet—warm hazel against a darker shade of brown—and Sophia forgets how to breathe.
Daniela’s lips twitch, then curve upward into that teasing, knowing smile that makes Sophia want to either kiss her or bolt.
She lets out the softest laugh, muffled so the librarian won’t catch her, but it feels like it echoes in Sophia’s chest.
Sophia narrows her eyes. “…You’re weird… Like being really weird.”
Daniela tilts her head, gaze steady, smile still playing on her mouth. “You are, too.”
Silence. The kind that feels like a string stretched tight between them.
Daniela was the first one to look away. Sophia silently watches as Daniela continues reading.
The older girl couldn’t really comprehend what was going on. All she knows is her heart is beating like crazy, and she feels like she’s about to vomit any time soon.
But she powers through.
Sophia stares at her for just a second too long.
But she quickly looks down, nodding, pretending to read the book she took from one of the shelves.
Her fingers feel warm against the paper.
Then she notices something.
The book Daniela was holding is annotated. In little pink and purple tabs. Highlighted lines.
Suddenly, Sophia feels her shoulders relax as she finds something to focus on. “You’re an annotator?”
“Only when I really like the book.”
And Sophia just barely manages not to melt on the spot.
Because she knows this book wasn’t random. Daniela picked it up because of the letters. Because of the mystery. Because of her.
“You know… I enjoy it a little more because I can relate to it.” Daniela softly admits.
She wants to say something back. Something bold. Something like “Then keep reading. The best part’s yet to come.”
But she doesn’t. Not yet.
“You said you’ve read it, right?”
Sophia nods slowly, “Yeah, a while ago.”
Daniela plays with the edges of the page she was holding, fiddling with it gently. “Want to annotate your favorite part in my copy?”
Sophia freezes, then she blinks. “Wait, what? You’re okay with that?”
“Yeah. I want to see what you’d pick.” Daniela smiles up at her. The teasing look on her face was no longer in sight.
It’s just her smiling at Sophia genuinely. Soft and gentle.
Sophia slowly takes the book with reverent softness like this were her own kind of love letter.
She flips through the pages slowly, carefully. Until her fingers stop on that line.
Her favorite line.
The one that feels most like how she adores Daniela.
“I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write it in waves. In skies. In my heart. You'll never see, but you will know. I'll be all the poets, I'll kill them all and take each one's place in turn, and every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you.”
She highlights it using Daniela’s highlighter. She does it slowly and neatly.
And next to it, in the margins, she writes with her own pen, “This one’s mine. :)”
Just that. Nothing more. Nothing signed. But her fingers tremble just a bit as she closes the book and hands it back to Daniela.
“There, I picked.”
Daniela smiles at her once more before looking down at the book. “Thanks.”
That night, as Sophia lies down in bed, she stares at the ceiling like it had all the answers to all her questions.
She thinks about Daniela’s letters.
Specifically, the latest.
Daniela said she was yearning and longing for her.
Sophia thinks Daniela is brave for declaring such a thing to a nameless and faceless person.
To someone she hasn’t even met yet. To someone she doesn’t know the name of…
But ever since their little moment at the library? Sophia felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
Like she felt light, and she no longer feared anything.
Because the way Daniela smiled at her, knowingly and teasingly, like she knew that it was Sophia and no one else, it assured Sophia.
It made all her worries vanish and disintegrate in thin air.
Daniela knew, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care if it was Sophia. If anything, she looked like she wanted Sophia to admit it to her right then and there.
It was as if Daniela’s eyes had told her that she wasn’t a coward.
That she could choose to run, but she’ll always end up beside her, where she truly belonged right from the very first letter.
Right then and there, Sophia decides.
She’s going to tell Daniela the truth. Not through letters, not through the lockers that hold them.
But in person.
Where there is no barrier that would keep them far from each other.
No letters to use as a shield to hide.
Just Sophia and her heart.
Notes:
Hello, this took so long to write, omg, sorry about that! I got distracted multiple times while writing this chapter, too. (Blame that one reader in the comments, they made me watch a movie... now I have new thoughts to be thunk)
Turns out, I can't end this story in this chapter, so... I hope the next chapter is the very last one for this! Bet y'all are happy to hear that, huh?
Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys their day!
Chapter 5: If I turn around, you're running back to me
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Daniela sits cross-legged on her bed.
It’s a quiet night in her room, and the only sound is the soft rustle of pages as she flips open This Is How You Lose The Time War.
She told herself she wasn’t going to check.
That she’d let herself be surprised naturally while reading.
But curiosity got the better of her.
She flips faster, scanning the margins. Her thumb slows when she sees a section faintly highlighted in soft yellow, neater than her own annotations, intentional, careful.
She feels her heart jump as she reads the highlighted words.
“I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write it in waves. In skies. In my heart. You'll never see, but you will know. I'll be all the poets, I'll kill them all and take each one's place in turn, and every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you.”
And right beside it, written in the most delicate handwriting, is a small comment from Sophia.
“This one’s mine. :)”
Daniela’s heart absolutely plummets. Then it soars. Then it sputters trying to do both at once.
She stares at the words. Fingers trembling slightly, as if they hold too much weight. She reads the line again. And again. And again. Each time, she hears it in Sophia’s voice.
Her eyes keep tracing over the line Sophia highlighted—the annotation scribbled in Sophia’s handwriting standing out against the printed words.
It hits Daniela harder than she expected.
The letters, the metaphors, and the humor buried in soft confessions.
The way Sophia’s words always feel like they’re reaching into her chest and stealing her breath away.
And now—this book. The line that Sophia chose. It felt more like she was revealing something instead of just choosing her favorite line.
It feels personal now. Not just a line in a book anymore.
Sophia just has that effect. Daniela knows it all too well.
When Sophia quotes something, it sounds as if she’s telling Daniela directly.
Daniela could only hope that Sophia really was telling her directly, using the lines in the book.
But she knows it. It’s her.
It is her.
She leans back against the pillows, the book slipping into her lap, and lets out a quiet sigh.
Daniela could keep on thinking of other people. She could go and assume it’s a different person behind the letters she’s been receiving.
But she can never pretend that Sophia’s the most plausible one.
And then, almost instinctively, her hand covers the page where Sophia’s writing sits.
The same hand that longs to grab hold of Sophia’s sleeve and never let her slip away. Not again. Not ever.
A smile spreads across her lips, not mischievous this time. Not a teasing smile, but warm. Soft.
Staring at the page blankly, Daniela has decided that she’ll wait. She’ll wait for Sophia to come to her on her own.
She had already told Sophia everything she needed to say. It’s up to the older girl to decide whether she’d keep on hiding or finally face Daniela.
But Daniela is not in a hurry.
Sure, she is desperate, but because of their library interaction and the line that Sophia chose in Daniela’s book, she’s almost certain that she won’t have to wait long.
Because now she’s sure.
And the knowing feels like both relief and torture.
She tells herself it will all be worth it, because it is.
—
“Dear Daniela,
Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to stop running.
I’ve been painting shadows of you, tracing you in words, letting the world see you through me, but never letting you see me through me. I told myself I’d stay hidden, because hidden things cannot break.
But you’ve already found me in the dark, haven’t you?
You’ve been reaching in with your words, your patience, your fury, your yearning—until I’m no longer certain if I am the one writing to you or if I’ve simply become the one you’ve written into existence.
I want you to know that I’m not afraid of you. I am not afraid to face and admit what I feel for you. I am only afraid of what you would say once you’ve seen me. But if you ask, I’ll come forward.
If you open the door, I’ll step right through.
I’ll face you.
Not as a shadow. Not as a nameless painter. Not as a stranger who knows how to love you in the ways you’ve always wanted.
Not as a stranger who loves you from the corners of a page.
I’ll face you as me.
—Yours.”
Sophia writes it in under a few minutes, letting her brain take over. Letting her hands write whatever she could come up with.
She pours all the sincerity she has on the paper with nothing but Daniela’s name as the person who will be receiving it.
No one else, just her.
Sophia folds the letter carefully, slipping it into the back of her sketchbook where it presses against half-finished portraits of Daniela and some random poems that Sophia had haphazardly written down.
She tells herself that she’ll give it to Daniela in person when she sees her.
She could just easily slip it inside her locker, but she doesn’t. She didn’t want to do that.
Sophia wanted to give it to her directly.
Sometimes she moves it into her jacket pocket before class, her fingers brushing over it like she’s reminding herself it exists—like she’s reminding herself she’s capable of handing it over.
But every time she sees Daniela in the halls, it’s the same.
Daniela passes her with Lara, laughing too loudly, too beautifully, and Sophia feels the weight of the letter like an anchor in her pocket.
It felt heavy, like if she pulled it out, she won’t be able to. It was weighing her down for some reason.
She tells herself, now. Now. But her throat closes, and she walks past instead.
In the cafeteria, Daniela waves at her across the room. Just casually, like she always does now.
Sophia’s heart stutters.
Her hand brushes her pocket under the table. She almost rises—almost—but Manon says something ridiculous and Sophia collapses back into her seat with a nervous laugh.
She wonders why it’s so hard for her to do.
Why does the very sight of Daniela make her physically stop?
Why was she hesitating? Daniela knows it’s her already. So, why?
In the afternoon, Sophia decides it would be better if she gave herself some time. Some space to breathe and just collect herself.
Maybe she’s just nervous. Maybe she just needs some more time to prepare herself.
She ends up in front of the art room, sketchbook in hand, with the letter neatly tucked in between the pages.
But the door was already open, and inside—Daniela was there.
Standing in front of the wall that Sophia had lazily covered with a huge piece of white cloth. Her painting of Daniela is still there, hiding behind it.
Sophia took a step back from the door, hiding behind the wall.
She doesn’t even know why she’s hiding. She could just walk in and talk to Daniela like normal.
But Sophia bites her lip as she watches Daniela take a careful step toward the wall. She gently pulls the white cloth aside, revealing bits of the painting.
Daniela stays there, staring at the painting before pulling the cloth completely to the side.
Her fingers hovered near the painting Sophia did for her. Up close, Daniela could see the remnants of her strokes despite being slightly dominated by Sophia’s.
Sophia stands still. She thinks, I could give it to her right now. It would make sense here.
Instead, she let out a shaky breath and took a step back, careful not to make a noise.
She leaves before Daniela can even turn around and spot her.
Worst of all, the next afternoon, Daniela catches her staring.
They’re passing by each other on the stairs. Daniela looks at her directly, holding her gaze just a second longer than usual, her lips curving into that knowing, playful smile again.
Sophia’s pulse spikes. Her hand almost moves to her pocket. She almost pulls the letter free.
But she doesn’t. She doesn’t do anything.
She keeps walking, breathless, her secret tucked just a whisper away from Daniela’s hands.
Tomorrow. She thinks.
Tomorrow, I’ll make sure to give it to her.
—
The past few days for Daniela have been alright. She sees Sophia in the halls, in the cafeteria, almost everywhere at this point.
She would stare at her, watch her walk away, and just smile sometimes.
Sophia may not be talking to her or interacting with her as much, but Daniela doesn’t mind.
There was just something about it that made Daniela feel relaxed. At peace. Like she knew everything would be alright and that sooner or later, Sophia would approach bearing the affection Daniela had felt through her letters.
For now, she waits.
Daniela opens her locker, not really expecting anything. Or maybe she was waiting for another arrow-to-the-heart letter from Sophia.
Instead, what slips into her palm is… something short. Simple. Almost unnervingly so.
She stares at the paper.
“Dear Daniela,
Meet me at the courtyard at 4 PM :)”
Daniela blinks at it.
That’s it? No flowery metaphors, no careful circling around confessions, no delicate humor tucked into heartbreak? Just… a few words and a smiley face?
Her brows furrow as she reads it again. And again.
Her first thought—is this Sophia? It is, right?
Who else would dare slip something in her locker like this? Who else would leave no name, no clue, nothing but the certainty that Daniela would follow?
But the handwriting—something about it is off.
The loops aren’t the same.
The lines are rushed, not deliberate. And the writing… no, this isn’t her poet.
She feels a strange disappointment bloom in her chest, one that makes her tap the paper against her palm. Why does this feel so different? Why does it feel… wrong?
Still, her heartbeat betrays her. Because what if it is Sophia?
Maybe this is her new way of being forward. Maybe it’s just her dropping the pretense? What if this is her way of finally saying, “I’m ready.”
Daniela chews her lip, staring at the little smiley face until it almost mocks her.
By 3:50, she already knows she’s going.
—
The courtyard is quiet when Daniela gets there.
A few students sit scattered on benches, heads bowed to their books or phones. The late-afternoon sun bleeds gold across the stone tiles, and her heart is pounding so loudly she swears she can hear it in her ears.
Her eyes sweep the space, nervous, restless.
She keeps looking for a familiar face. Keeps trying to spot a woman with thick-rimmed glasses with a smile that could make Daniela drop to her knees.
She doesn’t see her.
She’s not there. Sophia is nowhere in sight.
Daniela turns her head, and she sees someone standing near a bench.
A boy.
He lifts his head at the same time, and when their eyes meet, he smiles.
“Hey.”
Daniela blinks, her whole body tensing. “...Hi?”
The boy takes a step closer, holding himself awkwardly, almost shy but too eager. “Daniela.”
She raises a brow. “Yes?” She hesitates, then holds up the folded piece of paper still clutched in her hand. “Are you the person who left this in my locker?”
His face lights up almost instantly. “Yeah! That was me. I’m happy you went—I honestly didn’t think you would, but—uh, anyway. So…”
Daniela crosses her arms. “So…?”
He inhales like he’s about to say something monumental, his chest puffing, his face brimming with nervous pride.
He clears his throat, “It’s me.”
“...What?”
“It’s me,” he repeats, more confident this time. Smiling as though she should be relieved, overjoyed even. “The one that… sends you letters. It’s me.”
For a moment, the world feels too loud—the laughter of a group passing by, the cold breeze passing by and tussling her hair, the cicadas buzzing in the trees.
She stares at him, utterly still, utterly confused.
“...Excuse me?” She says, finally, the words sharp, clipped.
Because no. The poetry, the aching tenderness, the way each line wrapped itself around her like a secret she’d always longed for—this? This boy? She doesn’t even know him.
Beyond the vague memory of his name—Dylan—nothing.
And yet here he stands, claiming what isn’t his.
Declaring his identity with so much confidence as if he’s trying to overwrite Sophia’s presence.
He’s claiming what should be Sophia’s.
Daniela’s heart twists painfully in her chest.
She pushes herself to say something else.
Daniela’s lips part, but for a long moment, nothing comes out.
Dylan beams, nodding eagerly. “Yeah, it’s me! All me! I didn’t expect you to reply to the first letter, actually. When I found out you did and I saw it, I thought I was dreaming.”
He’s talking fast, rambling, his words tumbling over themselves in excitement. “I mean, I poured my heart into those, y’know? And you—you really got it. You understood. That’s why I kept going.”
Daniela just… stares.
His voice fades into the background, tinny and meaningless, drowned out by the rush of her thoughts.
No. No, it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.
Her mind flashes back like film reels she can’t stop.
Sophia’s offhand comments, Sophia’s laugh that always curled at the edges, the way her eyes lingered too long before darting away.
The lines in those letters… their rhythm, their heart.
The carefully put-together sentences could build Daniela a whole palace of feelings and emotions. They carried Sophia’s warmth, Sophia’s wit, Sophia’s strange poetry.
Not Dylan. Never Dylan.
He didn’t have that. He didn’t feel that way.
She blinks, snapping back to him, still talking, still weaving his flimsy claim like he believes it will stick.
Daniela inhales deeply, willing her expression to stay neutral, steady. Her heart is pounding, but her face is a mask.
“Right,” she says flatly, her tone unreadable. “You’re saying it’s you.”
Dylan nods eagerly again, smiling as if he’s already won.
And Daniela, even though she feels like screaming, though she feels like tearing the lie to shreds with the certainty clawing at her chest, just stands there, still as stone.
Because if she lets her facade crumble now, she knows she’ll give too much away.
“So… how exactly did you find out that I sent you a letter back?” Daniela asks, her voice careful, measured.
Dylan’s grin widens, like he’s been waiting for this exact question. “Locker 210, of course. I didn’t put my name on any of the letters, and you put your letter in locker 210, right? They found me and sent them to me.”
For a moment, Daniela didn’t know what to say. His answer is neat, wrapped in a bow, too neat. He sounds so sure, like it all fits perfectly in his head.
But inside her chest, everything rebels.
Liar. It’s not you. It could never be you.
Dylan tilts his head, studying her. “You look shocked.”
Daniela forces a breath and lets out a laugh, light and airy, though it feels like glass in her throat. “Oh, well—I just wasn’t expecting to… see you.”
Dylan chuckles, mock-dramatic. “Were you expecting someone else?”
Her lips twitch, her smile wavers, but she quickly recovers, plastering something awkward but convincing onto her face. “Oh, no… I meant, I wasn’t expecting to see you so… quickly.”
She even adds a little laugh, like she’s in on the joke, but her hands are clenched so tightly behind her back that her knuckles ache.
Because in her head, all she can hear is Sophia’s voice, soft and steady, words that weren’t written on paper but carved into her memory.
As if it’s something she isn’t supposed to forget. “Games don’t have to make sense—you learn along the way.”
And suddenly Dylan’s rambling again, talking about fate and how glad he is, but Daniela’s not really hearing him.
Because the truth is already burning too hot in her chest.
Dylan then gestures toward the bench near them, casual, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Want to sit?”
Daniela smiles, the kind of smile that never falters, no matter what, and follows him. She doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know why she’s still there, why she hasn’t gotten up and walked away.
All she wants to do is run. To escape this absurdity, to find Sophia, to demand the truth.
But instead she smooths the hem of her skirt and sits gracefully, crossing her legs at the ankle, the very picture of poise.
He talks. And talks. His voice is steady, his words confident. He goes on about how surprised he was that she replied, about how he wasn’t sure at first if she’d taken it seriously, about how he was scared but excited.
In Daniela’s head, Sophia would never go and ramble on about things like this. She’d ramble on, sure, but she would make it seem like poetry. Like she’s still trying to write poems with the way she speaks.
Not like… this.
Sophia doesn’t talk about destiny or fate or any of that bullshit that Dylan was saying.
Sophia would talk about the stars, the moon. About Daniela leaving flowers on any path she walks on, about weird metaphors that would make Daniela’s stomach churn and her heart jump out of her ribcage.
But Daniela nods politely, laughing in the right places. She tilts her head just so, eyes bright, every move calculated. The “perfect girl” that their whole small town and school expect her to be.
Inside, her pulse is hammering, her thoughts are wild.
Her gaze drifts to him, studying the details. His hair is brown, and so are his eyes. Just as her letter sender once described when Daniela asked, curiously, what they looked like.
It fits. It all fits.
And yet—her chest is hollow. The puzzle pieces click together neatly, but the picture is wrong.
Because when she thinks of her letters, she doesn’t think of Dylan’s steady grin or his smooth, confident tone.
She thinks of warmth, of tension, of words so sharp and tender they made her breath hitch. She thinks of no one else but Sophia.
Daniela shifts in her seat, offering another polite laugh at something Dylan says.
But the sound tastes bitter.
Because she knows.
No matter how much he claims it—no matter how neatly the facts line up—this feeling in her chest refuses to lie to her.
Dylan finally slows down his talking, leaning back on the bench with a casual grin. “So… I mean, since you know now, can I get your number?”
Daniela blinks. Her mind goes blank for a beat. “My… number?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to text me right away or anything, but… it’d be nice. You know, so we can actually talk. We don’t have to keep talking through letters anymore, no more waiting.”
Her heart twists painfully. For a split second, she imagines saying no.
Because she doesn’t want the letters to stop.
No more waiting.
But Daniela still is.
Not for him, but for her to show up and take everything he claimed.
She imagines standing up, letting her facade crack, blurting out that he’s not the one, that he never was, that she knows exactly who is.
But she can’t. She has no proof. Just instinct, just feeling. Just the familiarity of Sophia’s words and letters blooming in her chest, screaming at her, clawing at her insides, reaching out like it’s the truth and it wants to be set free.
Sophia’s presence alone was enough to determine everything.
Daniela’s smile never falters. “Of course,” she says lightly, pulling her phone out of her bag.
She hands it to him like it costs her nothing, like her hand isn’t trembling slightly at the edge.
He types his number quickly, saves it, and hands it back. “There. Now you’ve got me.”
No, I don’t, she thinks bitterly. But she just tucks her phone away, nodding, rising from the bench with perfect composure.
“Well. Thank you for meeting me,” she says, her voice smooth, her smile flawless.
Dylan beams. “I’ll be waiting for your text, yeah?”
Daniela just gives a polite laugh, the kind she’s mastered over years of being watched. “We’ll see.”
And then she walks away.
She doesn’t want to go home—not yet. She feels restless, her skin buzzing, her chest tight. She wants Lara’s grounding presence, Yoonchae’s quiet understanding.
Or Sophia.
God, especially Sophia.
But she’s too disoriented, too shaken, her mind spinning with words and lies and feelings that don’t match.
She wanders for a while—aimless, searching, though she doesn’t know for what.
And in the end, she doesn’t have much of a choice.
She goes home alone.
The “perfect girl” facade slips only when the door shuts behind her, the weight of silence pressing down, and Daniela leans against the wall, closing her eyes, whispering under her breath.
“It’s not him.”
—
That afternoon, Sophia prepares to give Daniela the letter.
She thinks maybe pushing herself to give it to Daniela upfront is too much. Maybe it was better if she did it in a way that was comfortable for her.
By slipping it inside Daniela’s locker.
She’ll be able to read it, anyway.
But as Sophia checks locker 210 first, she sees the usual. Small folded notes and a few crumpled bills were scattered.
Then, her eyes flick towards a small envelope. It was too small to be from Daniela’s; she quickly sees the difference.
She picks it up slowly, frowning as she turns it over and over, checking if there are any names or initials.
Unlike Daniela’s, with a DA written in the back, this tiny envelope didn’t have that at all.
She was reluctant at first, but she opened it.
And almost immediately, her world tips.
“You really helped me a lot despite asking not to do much for me. You gave me confidence. I’m going to confess to Daniela in the courtyard. I’m going to tell her that it was me who sent the letters, thank you. Here are a few bills for your troubles.”
Just as the small letter said, a few bills were inside the envelope. Crisp and folded neatly.
Her blood turned to ice.
Sophia stood there and just stared at the folded bills inside the envelope, at the clumsy handwriting, at the way her heart felt like it had dropped harshly on the floor and cracked open.
She slammed locker 210 shut the moment she overcame the shock. She practically sprinted down the hall.
Her pulse roared in her ears as she rushed towards the courtyard, each step fueled by a single, desperate thought.
Please don’t let me be too late. Please don’t let her believe him.
When she reached the courtyard, she skidded to a stop.
And there they were.
Daniela. Sitting on the bench. Smiling. Laughing.
With him.
Sophia’s lungs emptied all at once, her vision blurring around the edges. The world seemed to tilt, cruel and sharp.
Sophia knew who he was.
Dylan, the football player, tall, had a nice smile; he was… well, a good person overall.
Sophia doesn’t remember if he ever sent in a request in locker 210, but she knows he wasn’t that bright.
Not that it mattered now anyway.
But Sophia knew he was everything that she wasn’t.
Dylan leaned toward Daniela, talking animatedly. She laughed politely, brushing her hair back with a grace Sophia knew too well.
It crushed her.
Sophia’s hands curled into fists at her sides, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
Too late.
And so she just stood there, frozen in place, watching the girl she wanted, the girl she loved, the girl that she loves, slip away into someone else’s lie.
She felt her mouth dry up. There’s a bitter taste in her tongue.
There is something bubbling within her. Anger, jealousy, envy—whatever it was… it made her jaw clench and her whole body tense.
When she turns her head to look at Daniela, there is nothing but sadness. Yearning, longing. Just like what Daniela had written in her letter to Sophia.
Her body relaxes as if surrendering.
There is nothing but love and admiration in Sophia’s eyes… mixed with sadness and sorrow.
She wanted to walk up to them, pull Daniela away with her, and tell her that it was her.
It was her. Sophia. Everything Daniela had gotten was from her.
Not him.
He could never be that person.
Even if he tried and copied the way Sophia wrote, the way Sophia created poems so easily, like breathing. He could never ever be her.
But the sight of Daniela sitting there, listening, and smiling… Sophia could only sigh.
Because what can she do?
When he’s over there, feeding Daniela lies, Sophia’s there, standing so far away.
Unable to tell the truth. Unable to call him out on his bullshit.
So she swallows the painfully forming lump in her throat, hoping that all her feelings would go down with it.
She turns on her heel and leaves. She never looks back.
The sound of her own footsteps echoed in Sophia’s ears, hollow and heavy, as she pushed herself toward the school gates.
Her throat ached, though she hadn’t said a word, and her fists were still trembling from where she had clenched them so hard.
Her eyes stung.
She could barely keep them open without feeling the heat slowly enveloping the corners of her eyes.
It hurt.
Sophia walked and walked until she saw them. Her friends, waiting for her.
Megan waved, calling out, “Hey, where were you??”
Manon, grinning, “Let’s go! I’m so hungry! Let’s get dinner at that new place—”
Manon cuts herself off, the words dying on her lips the moment Sophia steps closer.
Sophia’s body moved like it wasn’t hers—her head low, shoulders hunched, every step dragging as if she were walking through water. She looked… empty.
Manon’s smile instantly disappeared. She slowly reached out, careful. Her hand gripped Sophia’s shoulder firmly, like she was trying to anchor her, like she could hold her together just by that touch alone.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was soft, sounding like a whisper.
Sophia didn’t answer. She swayed under the weight of the touch, like a rag doll, her face unreadable.
Megan noticed the way Sophia didn’t respond, how she looked almost like a zombie. Megan’s brow furrowed as she lowered her head, trying to match Sophia’s eye level. “Soph… are you okay—”
Before she could even finish her sentence, Sophia collapsed forward. Not fainting, but folding into both their arms.
The two girls were quick to react, catching Sophia as they huddled together. Sophia buried herself in their arms, holding onto them like a lifeline. Even though her hands trembled from the lack of strength.
She held onto them so tightly, like she’d break apart without something to cling to.
Megan and Manon quickly wrapped their arms around her.
Sophia didn’t even cry. She didn’t even shake against them. Not a single sound came out of her.
None of them asked; they let her stay there for as long as she needed.
Until a whisper, low and raw, slipped past her lips. “Let’s go home.”
Neither Megan nor Manon asked anything else. They just held her, guided her away, and took her home.
—
Everything felt heavier when Sophia entered her house with Manon and Megan following close behind.
The family car was gone, and their house’s gate was locked. Her parents aren’t home.
Which is worse because Sophia knows if she’s left alone with her thoughts, the tears wouldn’t hesitate to fall.
At least with her parents around, she can pretend everything’s fine. She can suck it up, smile, and laugh while talking to her parents about school or while watching TV with them.
But she’s reminded that she’s not alone when Megan pulls her by her jacket sleeve, stopping her from walking up the stairs to her room.
She turns her head slightly; she doesn’t meet Megan’s eyes, but she could feel the younger girl staring at her with a soft, concerned look.
“Sophia,” Manon called out from the living room couch. “You know we’re not gonna let you lock yourself in your room, right?”
Megan’s hold on her sleeve tightened like a silent plea. Asking her not to shrug them off.
Sophia blinked before slowly turning her body to face them. She had this neutral look on her face, but her eyes were telling them both something entirely different.
She takes one step forward, and Megan quickly pulls her toward the couch.
They all just sat there for a moment. Manon and Megan looked like guard dogs, huddling around her, making sure she knew they were just there beside her.
Sophia stared blankly at the floor.
There was a lot going on in her head. She wants to tell Megan and Manon everything, but she couldn’t get herself to form a proper sentence.
She couldn’t find the right words without stuttering or stopping midway to think.
Instead, she pulls out the letter she received. Crumped up, looking like it’s seconds away from being thrown in the trash.
She held it in her open hand; it rested on her palm like it hadn’t done her any wrong.
Manon stares at it, eyes flick between the paper and at Sophia.
Megan blinks before slowly taking it and uncrumpling it beside Sophia.
Manon stares at her as she reads it, waiting patiently for what’s to come.
The moment Megan’s eyes widened, Manon prepared for the worst.
“What the actual fuck?” Megan held the paper in her hands like she was about to set it on fire.
Immediately, Manon reached for it. Megan didn’t even hesitate to pass it to her, “Read that shit.”
“You really helped me a lot despite asking not to do much for me. You gave me confidence. I’m going to confess to Daniela in the courtyard. I’m going to tell her that it was me who sent the letters, thank you. Here are a few bills for your troubles.”
Manon didn’t even know what to think. She read the whole thing, and she couldn’t come up with a coherent thought, but what the fuck?
Before any of them could say anything else, Sophia finally spoke.
“I saw them. At the courtyard.”
The two girls immediately shut their mouths, heads snapping towards Sophia when they heard her voice.
“As soon as I saw that letter in my locker, I went. I practically ran…” Sophia let out a laugh, but it sounded broken, sounded heavy in her throat. “I don’t know, I just… maybe I took too long, maybe I’m not supposed to tell her that it’s me. Maybe he was meant to be with her.”
She played with her pants’ fabric, chewing her lip as she thought for a moment. “I don’t even know how he found out about everything. He just thanked me and gave me money.”
Manon threw her hands up, “No, because seriously—how the fuck did he find out about that?? And the audacity to give you money? What are you, a charity case??”
Sophia swallowed, her voice small. “I don’t know… it could be because of the painting. Or… the sticky notes on the walls? But it didn’t have our names on them… I have no idea…”
Megan frowned, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure, the painting’s obvious, but… the letters?? How? I mean, the painting on the wall is a dead giveaway, but who the hell would even connect all that shit together?”
“Exactly!” Manon leaned forward, arms crossed tight over her chest. “No one knows you’re writing to anyone… unless—” she paused, her brows furrowing, “—unless someone else knows that Daniela has a pen pal.”
Sophia lowered her head into her hands. “That’s… It’s just hard to think of right now. I don’t know what to feel…”
Manon leaned closer, her voice sharp but protective. “Sophia. He took your identity! He took credit! That’s a fucking villain in disguise.”
Megan’s eyes widened. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, too? Identity theft?”
The way she said it—half serious, half like a stupid joke—made Sophia’s lips twitch before she let out the tiniest laugh.
And Megan and Manon both exhaled in relief. At least she was still laughing. At least she hadn’t broken down into tears.
But as they exchanged glances over her head, they both knew the truth.
Sophia was aching. She was holding herself together by threads, and if they let go of her now, she’d crumble.
So they didn’t let go.
“I’m not going to let him get away with this. What’s his name again?” Manon then turned to Sophia.
The girl slowly looked up at her, blinking slowly. “Dylan.”
“DYLAN?? THAT QUARTERBACK?? EUGH.” Megan was quick to react, face scrunching up in disgust. “He’s like a Ken doll! Give him blond hair and blue eyes—BAM! He’s just a generic white dude who also happens to be a jock.”
She stood up, eyes blazing. “We have to call him out. Blast him! Tell Daniela the truth right away—“
“Or,” Manon interrupted, “We plant evidence. Like, undeniable proof that he’s lying. We could sneak into—“
“Guys.”
Sophia’s voice was so soft it barely reached them. They turned immediately, startled.
She leaned back against the couch, her hands limp in her lap. Her eyes weren’t angry, just… hollow.
“Let’s not do anything like that.” She shook her head slowly, her voice breaking ever so slightly. “It’s not worth it, really.”
Manon froze in her spot. Megan’s jaw clenched, the fire in her eyes dimming as she looked at Sophia again.
Neither of them spoke. They didn’t dare. Because the way Sophia said it wasn’t an order—it was a plea.
Megan quietly came back to sit beside her. Manon leaned in on her other side.
And for a long, long while, they didn’t say anything at all. They just stayed there with her, soft and steady, as if they were quiet enough, their presence alone could keep her from unraveling.
—
Daniela sat at a table inside the library. She twirled her pen idly between her fingers, the late afternoon sunlight catching on the gold of her bracelet.
It’s been a few days since she received Dylan’s letter in her locker. A few days since he told her that it was him who sent her letters.
They’ve already started talking through texts.
But it didn’t really feel like a real conversation. Daniela would just be replying to his messages or just reacting. He does all the talking.
She thinks maybe it’s time for Lara and Yoonchae to know what’s up.
She tried to sound casual, like she was just recounting something funny that happened earlier.
“I know who it is now,” she said.
Lara’s head instantly shot up. “The letter sender??”
Yoonchae leaned forward, eyes wide. “Omg, really? Who?”
Daniela hesitated for the briefest second. Then she smiled—perfect, dazzling, unbothered. “It’s, uh… Dylan. The football player.”
Silence.
Lara blinked. Yoonchae frowned. The energy dropped, like someone popped a balloon.
It was as if they instantly lost their interest.
“…Oh,” Lara said finally. “The tall guy, right? I mean… they’re all tall, but anyway…”
“Oh,” Yoonchae echoed, her tone flat.
They both looked disappointed. Not because they disliked Dylan, but because they were expecting someone else. Because in their hearts, they thought it would be Sophia.
Daniela kept her smile steady, even playful. “Yeah, him. He’s nice.” She says it as if she were convincing herself.
Lara stared at her, trying to read her expression. Something’s off with her smile, and Lara was quick to notice it.
“How did it go?” Yoonchae asked, frowning. She doesn’t even look curious; it looked like she just wanted to judge whatever story Daniela tells them.
“Oh, well, I saw his letter in my locker. He was asking to meet in the courtyard. I went and saw him there. He explained everything.” She says it like it’s a story that didn’t matter much to her.
It really didn’t.
But she kept her smile, looking like she was happy to be telling them about it.
Lara and Yoonchae weren’t buying it. They knew her too well.
“So, what’s the status?” Lara carefully asks, eyes still scanning Daniela’s face.
Daniela shrugs casually, “I mean, I did like the letters. So, I guess I like him. I guess we’re dating now?”
Silence followed.
Neither Yoonchae nor Lara knew what to say. Just a few weeks ago, Daniela was going on and on about Sophia. She was so sure that it was Sophia.
Now… it seems like she has gotten over the idea and settled with Dylan instantly.
It was concerning for Yoonchae and Lara.
“You don’t look all that happy at all…” Yoonchae said softly, tilting her head, eyes narrowing.
Because Daniela didn’t look happy. She wasn’t happy.
Daniela laughed, light and airy. “What do you mean? I’m good.”
Lara leaned forward, studying her like she was solving a puzzle. “Are you sure you like him? Because you look like…” She trailed off. She didn’t want to finish.
The way Daniela’s smile wasn’t quite reaching her eyes said enough.
Daniela’s posture didn’t falter. She pressed her lips together, still the picture of poise. “Trust me,” she said, voice sweet but firm. ‘I’m okay.”
And Lara and Yoonchae exchanged a look behind her back.
They knew she wasn’t.
She was doing that thing with them. She’s pretending that everything’s alright when it really wasn’t.
She was coping, trying to appear unfazed by the situation.
But Yoonchae and Lara couldn’t call her out on it.
Not when they don’t know the whole thing. They can’t just confront Daniela and force the truth out of her.
So they stay silent. They don’t utter a word.
—
Weeks slipped by.
Dates with Dylan blurred into one another. Movie nights at his house, milkshakes after his football practices, walks home from school. Sometimes, he drives her home.
On paper, everything looked perfect. She looked perfect. Daniela always did.
And of course, the whole school caught wind of what was happening. People admired them and gushed about how they looked perfect for each other. How they match each other’s energy.
The jock and the cheerleader trope.
Daniela, the prettiest and most perfect girl in school dating Dylan, the hot and nice jock.
They looked perfect and flawless, worshipped immediately by every student.
Suddenly, Daniela’s hair no longer curled. She acted politely, smiled that signature smile that everyone knows and loves. Her “perfect girl” image is once again making a comeback.
But God knows how Daniela despised every second and every bit of it.
She had already met Dylan’s friends. Jocks. Of course, they were.
They were polite enough when speaking to her, but Daniela wasn’t stupid. She saw the whispers. Saw the way they’d nudge Dylan with elbows, laughing into their palms, eyes flocking toward her like she was a prize behind glass.
Every time, Dylan would bark a quiet “shut up” or shove one of them lightly, his jaw tightening. He’d try to play it off. But he never truly argued back.
Daniela knew what they were thinking. She’d seen those looks before, in the eyes of boys who saw her as nothing more than a trophy to win, a prize to parade around.
It was the same look that made her skin crawl at parties, the same tone that made her tune out compliments.
She forced herself to smile. To laugh at Dylan’s jokes. To nod when he asked if she was having fun.
But deep down, every time his friends’ whispers cut the air, a thought gnawed at her.
This isn’t what my letter sender would do.
They wouldn’t stand there and brush off the filthy, dehumanizing comments that other people would make towards her. They wouldn’t laugh it off like some harmless joke exchanged between friends.
Because the letters… They were patient. Gentle. They could come off as protective sometimes, yes, but also steady and kind.
The words in each one made her feel like nothing else mattered, that she was the only one that mattered.
The letters made her feel understood and cared for.
The letters didn’t put her on a pedestal. They saw her. They knew her.
And Dylan… tried. But he was already failing at the easiest part.
Still, Daniela kept her facade up.
The perfect girl. The perfect girlfriend. Smiling at the right times, leaning her head on his shoulder when people looked. Reaching out and holding his hand when they walked side by side.
But inside, her chest felt hollow.
It also didn’t help that the letters had stopped. Of course, they have. Because Dylan is there now.
Right in front of her, talking to her, loving her. Not through the papers, the inks, and the wax-sealed envelopes. He was already there.
Yet, Daniela felt empty.
Like she no longer felt the warmth. Like something left and never came back.
Almost like she was yearning for something again, but she didn’t know what.
Whatever it was, it’s not there anymore.
—
Sophia watches from across the courtyard.
Dylan and Daniela are there, sitting side by side on the bench. They were talking, well, Dylan was talking. Daniela laughed a little, forcing a smile.
Dylan looked like he had already won.
He has.
And in this situation, Sophia had lost.
Something inside her breaks as she watches them.
“That could have been you.” Megan’s voice cuts through Sophia’s thundering thoughts. The older girl doesn’t even look up; she just keeps staring at the couple from afar.
“That’s my girl. She doesn’t even know it.” Sophia mumbles to no one in particular.
Manon sees it happen, sees the look on Sophia’s face. Megan turns and glances at her, too.
“That’s Dylan, right? The one who sent you money?” Manon asks, eyes squinting a bit because of the sun.
Sophia nods slowly, “Yeah. That’s him.” She bites the insides of her cheek as she continues to watch the way Daniela laughs, tilting her head up a bit, her dimple showing.
Sophia notes the way Daniela looked at the moment. Her hair was back to being straight. At least she didn’t bring back the bleach. But she still looked stunning.
She still was the prettiest girl Sophia had ever laid eyes on.
“What are you going to do?” Megan’s hand rested on her shoulder, soft and gentle.
“Nothing. She thinks it’s him. She’s happy.”
But Daniela’s not. And deep down, Sophia knows that, too.
Every night without fail, Daniela gets lost in her thoughts. She keeps telling herself that, sure, maybe Dylan really was the person who wrote the letters. Maybe she just assumed too much that it was someone else entirely.
Maybe Dylan really was genuine. He really liked her.
Maybe this is supposed to be her love story.
But then her eyes would wander and land on the book that she asked Sophia to annotate. She gets reminded of the painting on the wall, the sticky notes, that one specific note.
“But I couldn’t have completed this painting without you. :)”
And she wonders…
Why doesn’t it feel like him?
Why is it that whenever Dylan says, “I like you,” it doesn’t make her chest ache?
It doesn’t make her feel things. Not like the things she feels when she reads the poems in the magnet boards.
It just wasn’t the same.
—
Daniela is curled up on Lara’s bed, staring at the ceiling. It is one of those nights where they sleep over at Lara’s and just spend the weekend together.
Yoonchae’s sitting on the floor, staring at Daniela while holding a bag of chips. Lara’s got her arms crossed, watching Daniela carefully.
The chips bag in Yoonchae’s hand rustles, “So… are you with him now? You guys are officially dating?”
“Yeah, I thought you guys wouldn’t last, to be honest.” Lara tried to sound playful, but her tone gave it away. She was too serious to even force herself to turn it into a joke.
Because Daniela hasn’t been the same ever since.
Daniela sits up slowly, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie. “He asked me to be his girlfriend.”
Yoonchae frowns, “And?”
Silence. Too long of a silence.
It was obvious that something was bothering Daniela, and this “relationship” with Dylan was not making her happy at all.
When Daniela didn’t talk, Lara asked once more. “He asked you to be official. Isn’t that what you want? To find out who it is and get together with them?” Daniela nodded slowly in response.
Lara narrows her eyes, “Then why do you look disappointed?”
Daniela finally meets their eyes. Her voice is soft. “Because… I didn’t think it would be him.”
Yoonchae looked at her with sad eyes. “You said you were fine and that you liked him?”
“I don’t know anymore…” Daniela whispered.
She thinks about everything in that moment. She thinks about the letters that made her feel seen. The little art dates she had in the art room. The playful messages that were written on the sticky notes.
The painting of her. With curls, with hazel eyes.
She thinks about someone who knew her. Who admired her for what she was and what she naturally looked like. Someone who didn’t call her pretty right away. Someone who had seen and pointed out her flaws but turned them into art, like she was worthy of being loved despite her imperfections.
None of those matched Dylan.
Not his words. Not his manner. Not even the way he looks at her.
“Then be honest. Who did you think it was?” Lara asks, despite them all knowing who Daniela is thinking of.
“Someone who saw me. Not someone who just looked at me, but someone who really saw me.” Daniela kept it vague, but it was obvious.
“You don’t feel that way when you’re with Dylan… don’t you?” Yoonchae says gently.
Daniela doesn’t answer.
She just leans back against the wall, her eyes clouded.
And her silence was enough of an answer.
When Daniela goes home the next day, the house is quiet.
Her parents had gone out the moment she set foot in the house.
She uses this time to think and give herself some space to actually assess the situation she is in.
Daniela sits cross-legged on the floor beside her bed, the shoebox of letters in front of her.
The ones she had kept all this time. Some were folded neatly. Others had little smudges—faint fingerprints, the scent of paint, and a faded lavender smell, faint lipstick marks from when she kissed the corner of a letter jokingly one night.
She pulls the first one out. Then the next. Then the next.
Each one, more poetic. More observant. More her.
She reads all of them one by one. Each word made her stomach churn and twist as if she was reading everything for the first time again.
A smile creeps up her lips as she reads through each letter slowly, savoring it.
“Maybe you can assume that you’re what I want in between the spaces in these letters.”
She pauses.
Reading that part felt nostalgic for her, but it stings a little now. Not because they’re painful, but because they were never meant for her to doubt.
Sure, when she read it the first time, it made her think. It made her assume. It made her act as if she were trying to figure out if the person she likes liked her back.
But reading it now… it didn’t feel like it was making her think. It was more of a declaration of love. Like they were already sure that Daniela was what they wanted.
She reads on.
“I’d stare at you like you’re both the sun and the moon. Eclipse. It’s rare, and so are you :)”
Her chest tightens, and she thinks back to what Dylan would keep telling her.
“You’re really pretty.”
Flat. One-dimensional. Daniela has heard it before, countless times.
But these letters? It made it seem like they were looking for more ways to tell Daniela she was pretty.
And they weren’t even trying. It just came naturally.
Each letter knew her. Not just her face. But also her silences. Her confidence, her fire, and her heart.
After a few minutes, the letters are messy now.
Arranged in random order. Her fingertips brush over the ink, the paper.
She starts noticing things in the letters.
Small smudges of charcoal here and there, a doodle of a little cat with an angry face in the margins.
A page that smells faintly of lavender and eucalyptus, like someone who wore a specific lotion or oil.
Daniela breathes in.
It’s not Dylan. She has always known that. She never even needed to check.
She just didn’t want to believe that someone else out there wrote her those words… and hasn’t stepped forward.
The letters were full of soul. Too full of Daniela.
Dylan couldn’t have written them. Not even in his dreams.
But Daniela kept it in mind for a while. She wants the perfect moment to happen. She wants something that can trigger so she can confront Dylan about it.
—
It happened after Dylan’s football practice. Daniela lingered by the bleachers while Dylan joked around with his teammates.
She was smiling faintly, distracted, when one of them leaned toward Dylan and muttered something—just loud enough for Daniela to hear.
It was disgusting.
A comment that reduced her to curves and legs and nothing else.
Daniela froze, her smile collapsing.
Later, when they were walking home, she finally had the courage to bring it up.
“Dylan.” Her voice was clipped, serious. “What your friend said—“
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dylan cut her off, trying to laugh it off. He looked as if he was trying to shut Daniela down before she could even say anything. “It’s no big deal. He was just joking.”
“That wasn’t a joke, Dylan,” she snapped. “It’s offensive.”
Dylan sighed, running a hand through his hair like she was being unreasonable. “Come on, babe. It’s not like he’d actually do something stupid, you know? He’s my friend. They’re all my friends. And you’re mine—they would never do anything to you because they know you’re mine.”
Something inside Daniela twisted. She stopped walking.
You’re mine.
The words felt heavy, slimy, like chains wrapping around her wrists. She felt stupid for even entertaining this, for letting herself give him the benefit of the doubt.
In her mind, the words from the letters resurfaced like light breaking through water.
“I don’t want to touch you. I want to know you.”
Those words never claimed her. They never trapped her. They gave her air. They gave her a choice.
The letters admired her. Cherished her. The letters didn’t make her feel like property—they made her feel like a person.
Daniela stared at Dylan then, his easy smile, his shrug, his complete failure to understand why she was hurt.
In her mind, the words echoed.
If you really were the one who sent me those letters, you would never have said that.
“That’s not what you said in the letters.” Daniela’s voice is quiet now, and Dylan blinks.
They both stop walking. “What? What do you mean?”
“In the letters. You said you wrote every single one.”
Dylan nodded stupidly, “And I did.”
Daniela steps closer, eyes looking sharp. “But your words right now… they don’t match.”
Dylan looks to the side before scoffing, “What are you saying? Of course they wouldn’t match because…” he trails off.
Daniela watched him with narrowed eyes. He looked guilty of something, and Daniela wanted him to blurt it out.
“Because what?” Her voice came out harsher than she expected.
Dylan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he ignores her gaze. “Come on. They were my sentiments, my choice of words. It was just… expanded.”
Daniela’s eyes narrowed further. “Expanded? What does that even mean?”
“The first letter, I asked locker 210 to ghostwrite, okay? But the others? Mine. So don’t be shocked if they don’t match some of the things I say.” He finishes with a huff.
There it was, the truth… and yet, he still had the audacity to add another lie.
Daniela’s jaw clenched.
“You don’t match anything the letters said,” Daniela whispers through gritted teeth.
Dylan frowned; he looked irritated now. “You’re being dramatic over a silly little comment.”
“Am I really? Or are you just too fucking stupid to think I’d believe you when you don’t even sound like the letters?” Daniela’s voice rose, feeling the irritation as well.
And maybe even anger, bubbling inside her.
“Does it matter? Do I always have to reflect what’s in them?”
When Daniela heard those words, she was ready to explode. Dylan sounded so stupid, Daniela couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
She was furious now, hands trembling. “Yes! God, yes! Because you claimed to have written everything! And now you’re telling me locker 210 ghostwrote the first one? What do you think I’d think? Of course, I’d think that locker 210 wrote them all. Not you!“
Dylan snaps at her, “Are we seriously fighting over stupid letters? Dani, they’re just letters! Letters are made to flatter girls, not—“ he waves his hands around, “—not live by every word written in them like the holy bible!”
For a moment, she just stared at him. Stared at this boy who thought she was stupid enough to fall for his half-truths.
Daniela’s voice breaks into a cold laugh. “God, you are so fucking dumb. Maybe I should go and date locker 210 instead, since they ghostwrote the first one—and probably the rest.”
Dylan scowls. “Stop being such a bitch about this, Daniela.”
Daniela’s chest burned. That one word sealed it.
She shakes her head in disbelief. “And that’s exactly why you’ll never be the person who wrote them. Because the letters made me feel seen. They made me feel… free. And you just make me feel owned.”
She turned and walked away. Dylan scoffed behind her, didn’t even bother to chase.
The silence after Dylan’s scoff was louder than the argument. Daniela’s chest rose and fell sharply, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Just letters.
She could still hear him saying it. Just letters. Like they hadn’t been the only thing keeping her steady in some of her loneliest days. Like they weren’t the reason she started to believe she wasn’t just an object of desire but a soul worth knowing.
She stopped halfway down the block, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes. No. She wouldn’t cry for him. Not for this.
She turned, and Dylan was already walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed in his pockets, like she hadn’t even been worth the chase.
That was all the confirmation she needed.
Because the one who wrote the letters would’ve chased her. They would’ve fought for her.
But Dylan? Dylan just scoffed.
And that’s the crack, right?? That’s when Daniela knows deep in her bones Dylan is not the one.
That’s when her heart starts pointing back toward Sophia, even if she wasn’t sure anymore. Even if she was having doubts.
—
When Daniela finally tells Lara and Yoonchae everything, they are inside Daniela’s bedroom.
Daniela didn’t cry about it; she didn’t even look disappointed anymore, which was good.
She looked relieved. She looked free.
Like this is the first time she has ever felt freedom.
Daniela stared at the ceiling as the girls listened to her thoughts. “Y’know, I feel stupid for even pretending to believe him.”
Lara slowly nodded, clicking her tongue. “That, I agree with.”
A chuckle left Yoonchae’s mouth as Daniela smacked Lara’s shoulder. “You calling me stupid?”
“You called yourself stupid. Not me.”
Daniela rolls her eyes, but a smile stretches across her lips. “Fair.”
“How are you feeling now?” Yoonchae asks, voice soft and gentle. She sounded curious, but at the same time, it sounded like she was asking purely out of care.
And she was.
“I feel stupid,” she snorted at her answer, and the two girls were quick to laugh along. “I thought somewhere along everything, I’d start to feel that it’s real. Maybe if I pushed through and pretended further, maybe I would have had someone right now.”
“That can’t be good,” Yoonchae mumbles, leaning her head against the bed as she sits with her knees up to her chest on the floor. “You’d only suffer that way.”
Daniela hummed and shrugged right after. “Is it bad I’d rather have that?”
Lara rolled her eyes, scoffing. “You sound so ridiculous right now. You’re trying to act perfect again. You’re trying so hard to fit in this… narrative. Girl, we all know what you want.”
Lara’s stern voice made Daniela bite the insides of her cheeks. It was true, she was trying to put up a front again.
Trying to act like she’s fine with this.
Trying to make it seem like she’s no longer wanting for something. For someone.
“For once, Dani… be unapologetically you.”
Such simple words left Lara’s mouth, but the impact they had on Daniela was heavy. Her words carried weight, and it felt like Daniela had been slapped with what she needed to hear.
A little push from her friends. A little boost.
Her eyes land on the shoebox filled with letters under her table.
“You still think it’s Sophia, right?” Yoonchae’s voice came out soft and gentle. Like she was guiding Daniela towards the truth.
And for the first time, Daniela didn’t say no. She didn’t deny it, not the idea, not the thought of it.
“I don’t think it’s her. I know it’s her.”
The conviction in her voice made both Lara and Yoonchae freeze. Then, slowly, a fire sparked in Yoonchae’s eyes.
The youngest of the three reached out and squeezed Daniela’s hand, smiling widely. “Then let’s do something about it.”
It’s as if Lara knew exactly what Yoonchae was thinking and talking about; her eyes sparkled. “I think I know where this is going.”
Daniela turns to them, frowning. “What? What’s your plan?”
Yoonchae pulled back just enough to look at them both, voice firm. “Let’s do what we did before! Let’s prove it’s Sophia.”
Daniela blinked, and Lara clapped so loudly it rang in both Yoonchae and Daniela’s ears. “I can ask around! But we need to start somewhere…”
Daniela looked around her room as if the hint would be around there somewhere. Where can they possibly start? They don’t have any other hints or proof that it’s Sophia other than the way she talks and writes is similar to the letters…
Then she remembers her argument with Dylan.
He claims to have written everything else except the first one. In which he requested locker 210 to write.
And if the letters were written the same… then locker 210 must be—
“Do you guys think Sophia runs locker 210?” Daniela’s head snapped towards them, eyes expectant of their answers.
Yoonchae tilts her head to the side, blinking. She looked slightly puzzled because of the sudden interest Daniela had in locker 210.
“Well, locker 210 is good at writing.” Yoonchae slowly nodded her head. “I mean, it’s possible. She’s the smartest girl in school.”
“If anyone in school is capable of running a ghostwriting business, it would be her,” Lara added, shrugging.
Daniela leans back. Dylan’s words echo in her mind. That has to be it; that’s where they need to start.
“Dylan said his first letter was ghostwritten by locker 210. He said it was just the first letter and the rest were his writings.”
“I call bull.” Lara chimed in, and Yoonchae laughed.
“That’s another lie.” The youngest of the three murmured.
Daniela nodded vigorously, “That’s what I’m saying! He couldn’t have written the other letters! It was all written the same way! Unless he’s claiming to be the one behind locker 210, which I doubt is possible.” She pauses to roll her eyes, “But if he’s telling the truth about the first letter… then that’s where we need to start.”
“Investigate locker 210? We’re like killing two birds with one stone.” Yoonchae had an amused smile on her face; she looked like she was more excited than Daniela.
“Or just one bird if we’re wrong and we’re just… unmasking this poor student who’s just minding their own business,” Lara says with a chuckle, waving her hand dismissively. “But, yes. You do have a point with that.”
“Then we should start asking around,” Yoonchae turns to Lara with a sparkle in her eyes, “That’s where your other friends come in.”
Lara nodded before snapping her fingers together, winking at Daniela, “You can count on me with that, Dani.”
—
Gathering information didn’t take long with Lara. Having more than three circles of friends does have its perks.
They found out through one of Lara’s friends that locker 210 had momentarily stopped taking in requests. Locker 210 once again sent out an email saying they won’t be responding to anything anytime soon.
Their “break” would be indefinite.
It was odd timing.
It was almost as if something had happened at the same time Daniela started dating Dylan.
At the same time, the school started giving them attention.
The information that Lara got was already huge. It was already a big help, but they needed more.
Something more telling.
Daniela, Lara, and Yoonchae casually stroll past the line of lockers.
Daniela slows down when she sees the locker.
Locker 210.
Unassuming.
They’re not really sure why they’re there. Maybe they thought they’d get a clue somewhere if they stared long enough at the locker.
Daniela stands there, eyes scanning the locker with Lara and Yoonchae standing wordlessly beside her.
Locker 210 was kept clean for the most part, unlike any other locker anyway.
The person who runs it definitely was some kind of clean freak, or they were just simply an organized person.
But as Daniela stared long enough, more things caught her attention. Things that she has never noticed before.
The paint was flaking off, small scratches here and there, a few deep dents in the middle like someone had bumped into it a couple of times or had slammed it shut too hard one too many times.
Then Daniela looks at the lock. The paint was fading from being touched over and over.
But then there were smudges of graphite and charcoal in some places, and there’s dried paint in the middle.
It’s as if the person running it had been painting or sketching before opening the locker.
She narrows her eyes, reaching out to touch it, but she lets her hands hover above.
Suddenly, her mind is flooded with memories of her splashing paint on the wall in the art room.
Their art dates.
The painting of her on the wall.
The sticky notes.
It’s possible that the one who runs locker 210 is Daniela’s letter sender.
They could be one person.
“Uh, guys? I just got a message.” Lara’s voice cuts through the silence in the hallway.
Both Yoonchae and Daniela turn their heads towards her at the same time.
Lara was looking down at her phone, brows furrowed. The two other girls weren’t sure if she looked pissed off or just confused.
Yoonchae raised an eyebrow at her, crossing her arms. “What is it?”
“It’s about Dylan,” Lara said, eyes momentarily flicking up to meet Daniela’s.
Daniela stood still, lips pushed together in a thin line. She doesn’t really care about what she was going to hear about him.
But the way Lara looked serious was making her nervous.
“He…God, what a stupid bitch…” Lara scoffs before continuing, “Apparently, when he saw the painting of Daniela in the art room, he started asking around. His friends even asked around for him. He read all the notes you and your secret admirer wrote.”
Lara stopped and scrolled slowly on her phone while Yoonchae and Daniela waited patiently for her to continue. “He found out through one of my friends’ other friends that you have a pen pal because of me. Remember when I asked around about Sophia? I told one of them that you have a pen pal and we’re suspecting that it’s Sophia.”
Lara sighs, rolling her eyes as she scrolls on her phone again. “They couldn’t keep their fucking mouth shut, I specifically told them not to tell anyone… what a stupid fucking bitch, but that’s how Dylan found out about the letters. Turns out he really did make a request the first time.”
Yoonchae’s face scrunched up in disappointment, not at Lara but at Lara’s friend.
But it all made sense now. It was clearer now that Daniela knew what happened on Dylan’s side.
They just confirmed that it really isn’t him.
Daniela scoffs, rolling her eyes. “He’s pathetic.”
“Is he that desperate? I can’t believe anyone would do something like that…” Yoonchae let out a huff as she leaned against the lockers. “Well, at least we’re sure now. We’re on the right path, then.”
“What do you want to do about this?” Lara asks Daniela directly.
Daniela thinks for a moment before sighing, “I don’t… I don’t really want to talk to him about anything. I don’t want to talk to him at all.”
Lara nodded, “No confrontation, got it.”
Daniela was just about to turn her attention back to the locker when Lara spoke up again.
“Wait, I just got another message from my friends.”
Lara looked at Yoonchae and then back at Daniela.
“I got locker 210’s emails.”
In less than a few minutes, they were already inside the library.
The three of them sat hunched over a table, a stack of scrap paper in the middle covered with scribbled emails Lara had managed to collect from her friends.
It looked like evidence, like a trail that should lead somewhere—but it didn’t.
With the amount of emails locker 210 uses, you’d think it was used in some type of scam to spam people with fake job offers.
Daniela groans, rubbing her temples as she slowly spirals from staring at different emails all at once.
“This is useless. None of these emails leads anywhere close to what we need. We’re not getting anywhere with these—these emails are like, burner accounts.”
Lara sighed, scrolling through her phone messages. “I thought this would work. I thought maybe they would have slipped up and used the same email, but… It’s a dead end.”
Yoonchae had been spinning a pen between her fingers, brows furrowed. Then her eyes lit up. “Wait… what if we ask the first person who ever sent a request to locker 210? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
Both Lara and Daniela looked up at her.
Lara held her phone tightly, the gears in her head turning, “That’s actually smart.”
“Yeah… but how would we know who it is? Our school is small but not that small. There’s no way we can trace it.” Daniela spoke like she was already giving up, but there’s a tiny flicker of hope in her voice.
Yoonchae frowned, humming lowly as she deflated. “Right…”
But then Lara snapped her fingers. “No, wait. This could work. I can keep asking around. My friends have other friends, remember?”
Daniela and Yoonchae looked at her skeptically. They know what happened the last time Lara got any form of help from her friend’s friends.
Dylan happened.
And that issue’s not even over yet.
Lara’s eyes flicker between Yoonchae and Daniela, “Trust me on this one, I swear nothing will be leaked—believe me when I say I’m sure one of them would know something!”
Yoonchae let out a sigh that sounded like a huff and a laugh.
Daniela furrowed her brows before nodding slowly. “Fine. I guess it’s worth a shot?”
Lara was already typing furiously on her phone, sending messages left and right.
The three of them waited in silence, tension thick in the air.
They all tried to distract themselves by fiddling with anything their hands could grab.
Finally, after a few grueling minutes, Lara’s phone screen lit up with a reply.
All their heads whip towards Lara’s phone on the table. Daniela almost jumped to check it first. If she hadn’t reminded herself that it was Lara’s and not hers, she would have snatched it in one go.
Lara opened the message, not even bothering to check what it was on her lockscreen.
Her eyes scanned the words before reading them out. “Oh, I have no idea, but I heard about Locker 210 from Manon. I remember her telling some of my other friends about it. Maybe you can ask her.”
The three of them froze.
Lara slowly lifted her gaze up towards Daniela and Yoonchae, while Yoonchae turned to look at Daniela.
The girl looked like she had heard the most jaw-dropping information of all, and her heart had skipped a beat.
“Manon?” She whispered, sounding like she was in disbelief.
Yoonchae’s lips parted in shock, then curved into the tiniest smirk. “Well, looks like we’ve got ourselves another lead!”
—
Ever since Sophia told Manon and Megan what happened, she refused to do or take any requests.
It wasn’t a problem, really. Manon and Megan wanted her to focus on herself first. They both know Sophia wouldn’t be able to write anything in such a state.
She’s always in the art room now. Instead of holding a pen and wax sealing letters for Daniela, she holds pencils, markers, and brushes.
Sometimes, she’d unconsciously doodle in her sketchbook. Sometimes, she’d try to read the books in her “to be read” list, but she doesn’t get anywhere after reading a few words.
It’s as if her mind has refused to use and take in words from anything.
Like she only wanted to express her emotions through small, meaningless doodles and paintings, she knows she wouldn’t be able to finish.
It had become a routine for her. She coped with everything using art instead of writing.
Which was sad because writing was her first love.
But now she can’t even write a half assed poem with a dying pen.
She didn’t know which was worse. Losing the ability to write or unconsciously losing her reason for writing.
“How have you been?” Manon’s soft voice cut through the silence inside the art room.
She had her bag slung over her shoulder, and she leaned against the wall just beside the door, eyes never leaving Sophia’s figure, sitting motionlessly in the corner in front of a small desk.
“Fine,” Sophia said, obviously not wanting to talk about whatever she was feeling at the moment.
“Y’know, people are losing their minds over locker 210.” Manon chuckles, shaking her head slowly. “It’s kind of ridiculous. It’s like they’d die if no one ghostwrote for them.”
She hears Sophia laugh lowly. “They’d pass out if they even wrote one letter in their essay.”
Manon smiled.
It was good that Sophia would still joke around, would still laugh, and would still allow herself to feel other emotions other than sadness.
“Hey… don’t you want to eat lunch with Megan and me?”
Her approach was careful, not pressuring, and not pushy. Just an innocent question. A gentle invitation.
Sophia stared down at the letter that Dylan had left in her locker. She still had it.
It was peeking out from between her sketchbook, staring back at her.
She scoffs bitterly. She didn’t mean for it to come out.
She clears her throat, “Sorry, I wasn’t scoffing at you, Manon.” She whispered before tapping her finger slowly against her sketchbook. “But as much as I want to join you both, I’d like to be alone.”
Sophia didn’t even look up at her, and Manon didn’t have to force her to join.
“No need to apologize, Soph.” She says it with a gentle smile, eyes looking at Sophia with so much understanding.
Too bad Sophia refused to look up at her.
“Join us soon when you finally feel like it.” With that, Manon leaves and immediately heads towards the lockers.
That’s all they could ever do for Sophia. They can’t really force her to do anything else.
If she wanted to be alone in the art room, they would let her. Besides, they always accompany her there.
They’re still worried, of course, but they just can’t do much about it.
The hallway was unusually quiet when Manon stepped out, just the shuffle of students moving between periods.
Manon stood at her locker, making a mental note to move fast so that she and Megan could go and finally eat lunch.
She balances three books in one arm while rummaging with the other.
That’s when Lara, Yoonchae, and Daniela approached.
Lara’s voice came out smooth and casual. She sounded sweet as always. “Hey, Manon. We just wanted to ask you about something.”
Manon froze mid-motion, like a deer caught in headlights.
They’ve rarely interacted before… and also not in this setting.
Where Daniela and Yoonchae are with her. Manon’s eyes flicker between the three of them, already sensing something.
Before she could respond, Megan appeared out of nowhere, slipping into the scene with her backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Manon! Have you talked to Sophia about—“ the words die in her throat, and she makes eye contact with Lara, Daniela, and Yoonchae.
Her eyes lingered when it landed on Yoonchae; of course, it did.
“Whoa—hey! What’s… what’s cooking… good looking…?” Megan stumbled over her words as she tried to smoothly lean against the locker.
Manon slowly closed her eyes, already feeling the disastrous outcome of this interaction. She immediately shoved all the books she had inside her locker before slamming it shut.
Her hands never left the lock as she fully turned her body to face the three girls.
Yoonchae eyed both of them suspiciously. “We just need to know about locker 210.”
It was like someone pressed a pause button. Manon’s fingers went stiff on the lock. Megan’s lopsided grin faltered. They exchanged a split-second glance, panic flashing in their eyes.
“Oh… 210?” Manon let out a nervous laugh, “That’s… a locker. Definitely a locker…”
Megan was quick to jump in, nodding aggressively. “Yeah. A locker. For… books. And, uh… gym shoes. Very normal stuff.”
Daniela narrowed her eyes. “So you guys don’t know anything about it? Even the ghostwriting business?”
“Nope! No! Never heard of it! Notes? Requests? What even are they?” Manon responded too quickly.
Megan held onto Manon’s shoulder, trying her best to smile naturally. “Notes are like… when you, uh… write something down—“
Manon tapped Megan’s hand with a finger, “She knows what a note is, Megan.”
Lara is obviously unimpressed. She crosses her arms together. “You two are really bad at lying.”
Yoonchae tilted her head as she stood beside Lara. At least she was amused. “You guys are like… impressively bad.”
“Why, thank you—“ Manon was quick to elbow Megan, as if reminding her that being called “impressively bad at lying” is not a compliment just because it came from two pretty girls.
Manon tried to grin, but it came out strained. “Okay, look. It’s not what you guys think—“
“Yeah, because what you think is probably true.”
“Megan!” Manon hissed at Megan, shoving her off.
Daniela raised a brow, her voice deceptively calm. “So it is true. You both know something about locker 210.”
Manon opened her mouth, then closed it. She glanced at Megan like maybe—just maybe—Megan would bail her out. But Megan just shrugged.
“We should’ve practiced this.” She mumbled under her breath.
Lara leaned forward, smiling like a cat about to pounce.
When Manon and Megan say nothing, Lara’s smile falters. Her sharp gaze came into view, and it was enough to make Manon’s skin itch. “Okay, cut the crap. Manon, I heard from one of my friends that you were the one who told them about Locker 210. We just need to know a few things.”
Manon froze for a second. She and Megan locked eyes—an entire silent conversation happening in that one look.
Finally, Manon exhaled, shoulders slumping like she was caught red-handed. “Okay, fine. You caught me. I did tell a few people about Locker 210. Only because I was one of the first ones to try it out.”
She bit her tongue too late. Megan’s eyes widened slightly—girl, that’s a lie and you know it—but she kept her mouth shut, trying to play along.
But Manon’s tone was calm, even, and convincing.
Too convincing.
Lara and Yoonchae seemed to soften, exchanging glances like they were starting to believe her.
“Okay, so… you’re one of the firsts?” Yoonchae asks, leaning against Lara as she did.
Manon was smooth with it. Nodding like she was telling the truth. “Yeah, I think? I always pass by Locker 210. Then I randomly saw a paper slapped onto it; I was just curious. I sent in a stupid request and they did it.”
Her lie came out flawless. Lara narrowed her eyes but didn’t push—yet.
Then her sharp gaze slid toward Megan, who instantly felt her throat go dry. “What about you?” She asks pointedly.
Megan gulped; she felt as if she did it loudly, like everyone else heard her gulp.
Which, in her mind, only made her more suspicious. Her eyes were darting everywhere. “Well, I did try it… once… maybe twice?”
Manon’s eyes widened. “What the hell, Megan?” She thought, but Megan kept going, her nerves spilling out in one long ramble. “I mean, not serious requests or anything, you know? Just, like, dumb stuff. Like asking them to—uh—predict the cafeteria lunch menu, or—uh—write me a haiku about a sandwich, or maybe—wait no, that was Manon—no, actually maybe that was me—point is, it was all silly stuff.”
Manon wanted to physically slap her hand over Megan’s mouth. She settled for digging her nails into her own palm, holding back a groan.
Lara raised a perfectly sculpted brow. Daniela tilted her head, her stare unreadable but sharp as glass.
Yoonchae? She just looked like she was two seconds from bursting out laughing at how spectacularly bad Megan was at lying.
The youngest snorts; she couldn’t keep it in. “Wow. You’re both terrible liars.”
Manon forced a laugh, waving her hand like it was no big deal. “We’re not lying! Megan just… rambles.”
“Yeah! Totally! Classic me! Rambly… don’t take anything I say seriously.” Megan nodded way too eagerly.
But Lara wasn’t buying it fully—her eyes lingered on both of them, suspicious. Daniela said nothing, but her silence was louder than words.
Daniela was starting to think about the possibilities. Why were Megan and Manon acting suspiciously?
It’s either they’re covering for someone else or… they’re covering for Sophia.
Then, none of them spoke. Letting Megan’s words sink into the air as if that was going to help any of them.
The silence between the four of them was thick. Manon was trying so hard to keep her cool, Megan looked like a deer about to be hit by a truck, and Lara’s narrowed eyes were practically slicing through them.
Yoonchae, on the other hand, leaned back casually, watching—studying.
One thing’s for sure, none of them are buying anything Manon and Megan are saying. Heavy on Megan.
Lara glanced at Daniela, wordlessly asking for permission to push further. Daniela rolled her eyes, then gave the tiniest nod—her silent go signal.
Lara smirked, turning to Megan like a lion cornering its prey. “Okay then, Megan. You seem to be the one who knows a lot.”
Megan froze. Her eyes shot wide, her body stiff as stone. Then, very slowly, she turned her head to look at Manon. Her face screamed one thing: HELP ME.
Manon’s soul left her body.
And then, out of pure panic, Megan’s eyes watered and she let out a choked sob.
“MY EX—“ she wailed, dramatically clutching her chest. “MY EX ASKED LOCKER 210 TO WRITE ME A BREAKUP LETTER AND HE ONLY ASKED THEM TO WRITE—“ she hiccuped, “I’m going to bounce, boo. You are ugly as hell. Peace!”
Megan clutched Manon’s arm like she was reenacting the death scene of Romeo and Juliet.
“AND I WAS TRAUMATIZED BY IT, OKAY??” She cried, tears that are now suspiciously real, streaming down her face. “NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!”
And she collapsed into Manon’s shoulder, sobbing dramatically.
Manon, suppressing both horror and laughter, patted her head like a good soldier covering for her partner in crime.
“Look at what you guys did!” Manon snapped at the girls.
Yoonchae was doubled over, hand pressed to her mouth to keep her laugh from exploding. Lara blinked once, then twice, utterly baffled.
Daniela just stared, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and I hate how suspicious this is, but also I can’t deal with Megan right now.
“…That’s… a bit dramatic.” Daniela flatly says.
Megan wailed louder, “I HAVE TRAUMA!”
Megan was still clinging to Manon like her life depended on it, tears streaking her cheeks, when Lara leaned ever so slightly toward Daniela. “She’s obviously lying…”
Daniela pinched the bridge of her nose. “Obviously.”
Of course, she was!
Anyone can see that quickly.
But Megan was already spiraling, words spilling out like an unstoppable faucet. “MY EX WAS CRUEL, OKAY?? A HORSE WROTE ME A LETTER—no wait, his nickname was horse—BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”
Yoonchae lost it. She bent forward, clutching her stomach as laughter bubbled out despite her attempts to hold it in.
“I WAS YOUNG! I WAS NAIVE! I THOUGHT HE LOVED ME—“
Manon was patting Megan on the back. “Shh, shh… It’s okay, girl. You’re safe now. Horse… can’t hurt you anymore.”
Her voice shook and broke at the last words. A laugh was threatening to break out of her throat, but she held it in.
Daniela and Lara exchanged another look.
Lara’s jaw clenched like she was this close to exploding, while Daniela just… sighed, half-annoyed, half-exhausted, and maybe a little amused.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Daniela muttered, sighing once more.
“I HEARD THAT!” Megan wailed, muffled by Manon’s shoulder. She was hiccupping fake-sobs, clutching Manon tighter like a Victorian widow.
Lara has had enough of this.
“Okay, Megan. If you’re done with your soap opera, why don’t you tell us what you really know about locker 210?” Her voice was sharp, and it was obvious her patience was wearing thin.
Megan sniffled, pulled away from Manon dramatically, and wiped her “tears” with the back of her sleeve. “Do you want me to repeat what I said? Because that’s all I know!!”
Yoonchae watched as Lara’s frown grew deeper in annoyance. She knew she had to pull the girls away.
“This is useless. That’s enough, we’re done here.” Yoonchae gently tugged Daniela and Lara by the wrists.
Daniela gave one last suspicious glance at the two girls while Lara rolled her eyes. The three walked off, their hushed voices fading down the hall.
Now, the hallway was quiet again. Just Megan and Manon were left standing by the lockers.
Megan sniffled one last time, then wiped her face, her tears drying almost instantly. She grinned.
“Did I do good?”
Manon turned slowly, eyes wide with horror. “Megan, if this were a casting audition, I would have said yes, but we’re so fucking cooked.”
Megan frowned, confused. “Did I not do good?”
“Who the fuck would cry about a man named Horse??”
“It was a nickname! I told you! It’s real!”
Manon blinked, “It was?”
“Yes. It’s true. Unfortunately. He used to have long hair, that’s why. I kiss guys, too, may I remind you.”
“Sure… a guy nicknamed horse…” Manon groaned, “Anyway, we have to tell Sophia.”
—
Manon and Megan practically burst into the art room, startling Sophia, who was just minding her own business, doodling in her sketchbook.
Her hand slipped and had accidentally ruined her own drawing.
Sophia turned her head in an instant, locking eyes with Manon and then turning to look at Megan. “What the hell??”
“They’re onto you,” Megan says while panting, and a hand is placed over her chest.
Sophia froze in her spot, not really knowing what the context was. “…What?”
“We…” Manon trails off, looking at Megan with almost a scared look. “We might’ve been interrogated by Daniela, Lara, and Yoonchae.”
Sophia didn’t speak. She didn’t even ask.
She just stared as if she had a hard time comprehending Manon’s words.
“T-they cornered us! They asked about locker 210; it was insane. We didn’t even have time to prepare! They’re starting to put shit together!” Manon added, feeling a bit nervous about how Sophia remained silent.
Sophia blinked and finally spoke after a few seconds. “Why would they be asking that?? And how close are they?”
“Close enough to start pointing fingers.” Manon was quick to reply, and Megan took one step forward, looking proud as ever. “Don’t worry, I handled it!”
“Barely!” Manon chimed in, frustrated.
Sophia finally let go of the pencil she was holding and fully turned her body towards them. “Handled? How?”
Megan beamed proudly. “I fake cried. Full-on waterworks. Told them my ex—nicknamed Horse, long story—sent me a breakup letter through locker 210. They bought it!”
“No, they did not!” Manon elbowed her as Megan groaned.
Sophia just stared. Blinked once. Twice.
Then she let out a long, pained sigh. “You guys are so… stupid.”
Manon was quick to point at Megan. “That’s what I said!”
Megan looked offended, “Excuse me?? I saved our asses! That definitely worked!”
“No. You’ve doomed us. Who the hell would even cry over a man named Horse??” Sophia slumped back on the table, covering her face with her hand while groaning. “I’m so screwed.”
Manon sighed, leaning against a nearby table. “Yep. You’re very screwed.”
“…but, Manon. You have to admit. My acting was good, though, right?”
Sophia peeked out from behind her hands just to glare at Megan. “Get out.”
—
To say Sophia wasn’t scared that she’d get caught was not true. She’s actually nervous.
Like her whole world’s about to fall apart if any of them came up to her and suddenly asked about locker 210 the same way they did with Megan and Manon.
It was nerve-wracking. It made her hands shake and made her stomach drop multiple times just by thinking about it.
Despite that, Sophia built up the courage to finally step out of the art room and sit inside the library after a while.
She had gotten used to hiding in the art room; she forgot that she had her comfort spot inside the library.
Tucked away behind a few shelves. The world outside feels miles away.
Sophia is curled up at the desk, a pencil twirling between her fingers, her glasses slightly askew. She’s halfway through annotating a book—calm, quiet, unreadable.
Finally, after months of not being able to because of never-ending requests, she was able to annotate again.
It wasn’t like she did it for every book. For some reason, she just liked this one a lot.
The writing was simple. It was easy to read, but something about how the characters were written had captured Sophia’s attention.
She was so immersed in reading the book that she hadn’t even noticed Daniela walking around the library. She had passed her many times.
Daniela had kept her eyes on her the moment she entered.
It had been a while since she’s seen Sophia up close. It had also been a while since she had seen her reading in the library.
Daniela watched as Sophia’s fingers subtly and absentmindedly toyed with the edge of the book.
There was a forming thought in her head. Something that she knew she wanted to do the moment she saw Sophia sitting alone, tucked away in the far corner. Something in Daniela’s chest tightened when she spotted her.
It always did when Sophia was around.
But now Daniela hesitated. To her, it felt like seeing Sophia for the first time and interacting with her, but more nerve-wracking.
It felt different now. Not like when they bumped into each other in the hallway. Not the same feeling she felt when she saw Sophia filling her hoodie pocket with Yakult bottles.
Because now something has shifted, and Daniela fears that she might be the only one feeling it.
Despite that, Daniela takes a breath, composes herself, and walks up to the table.
“Hey,”
Sophia glances up lazily. Her glasses were nearly falling off.
When their eyes met, Daniela offered a gentle smile. “Fancy seeing you here,”
Sophia blinked, then closed her book slightly, the corner of her lips curving. “Hey… Yeah, this is my spot.” Her voice was soft when she spoke.
She gently nudges a small, folded piece of paper away from her book. Daniela catches the motion, just barely.
“Your spot, huh? No wonder it feels… warm. Like it’s lived in.” Daniela stood there a bit awkwardly. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if she needed to act and speak carefully around Sophia.
But Sophia lets out a quiet laugh, barely a puff of air. “Yeah, well… beats the chaos of the cafeteria.”
With that, Daniela relaxed a bit as she started pulling out the chair across from Sophia. “Mind if I join you?”
Sophia gives her a long look, then a small shrug. “Sure. Quiet company’s always nice.”
Daniela finally sits down, and for a moment, they just sit there, the silence still strangely comfortable. Daniela’s eyes fell to the cover of the book in Sophia’s hands. “Still into books?”
The question sounded stupid in Daniela’s head, and yet she still asked it like an idiot who was trying so hard to converse like a normal person.
Sophia nodded faintly, “Always.” She glanced down at the pages like they were safer than Daniela’s eyes. “This one’s different, though. It’s just something light… but the words and the scenes feel like they can cut you open, but in a way that makes you want to keep reading.”
Her voice softened at the end, almost like an apology.
Daniela tilted her head, listening, and realized—God, she missed this. She missed the way Sophia’s voice lilted when she spoke about books, the way she seemed to slip into another world and pull Daniela in with her.
She sees the scribbles in the margins. She leans forward, careful. “You annotate, too?”
“Not all the time. This book just feels worth it.” Sophia says, eyes still focused on the page.
Daniela hums. “What’s it about?”
Sophia tilts the cover as if Daniela hasn’t seen it yet. Late To The Party.
Daniela has never heard of it before.
“Well, I haven’t read through it yet. I’m still just a few chapters in. I can tell you what I like about it so far.”
“Please do.”
The smile on Sophia’s lips reappears. “The main character likes to draw. I like that part… and maybe the part where she draws the girl she likes.”
Something about what Sophia said felt awfully familiar, but Daniela doesn’t say a word. She studies Sophia for a second. Quiet and focused. Soft-spoken and right now in this moment, a little closed off.
Her chest tightened again at the thought, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. “It feels like we stopped talking when we never really stopped seeing each other in the hallways.”
The confession hung heavy in the air.
Sophia froze, eyes widening slightly. Her mouth opened, then closed again.
Until finally, she smiled faintly, almost wistfully.
“It… did feel like we stopped talking.” Because they did. Because the letters stopped.
Their eyes met for a moment too long, and Daniela felt as if she had forgotten how to breathe. She could almost hear the unsaid words between them.
And I missed it. I missed you.
After that, the conversation had drifted into small, aimless things—books, classes, teachers they both thought were ridiculous. Daniela had been laughing, eyes crinkled, her hand brushing her cheeks as if to hide how wide her grin was.
And then Sophia ruined it.
She just couldn’t keep it in. “So… how have you been with the football team?”
It was supposed to sound casual… but Daniela immediately knew what she was asking.
Sophia didn’t mean to. The question had just slipped out before she could stop herself. Sophia had noticed it; the sparkle in Daniela’s eyes flickered out when she asked.
Daniela’s laugh came, but it sounded… wrong. It sounded forced. “Okay… I guess?”
She fiddled with the edge of the table, gaze dropping to her lap. For a moment, she looked more like the Daniela from Sophia’s letters—unguarded, quietly aching.
Sophia tilted her head, the shift making her chest twist. “Just okay?”
Daniela hesitated, then sighed. “I’ve been receiving letters for almost two months now…” she smiled faintly, genuinely, like she was really happy just by mentioning them. “I didn’t know who they were… all I knew was that they knew me better than anyone else and made me feel understood.”
Sophia remained silent as she kept listening.
“And then suddenly, Dylan came and told me that he was the one who wrote the letters. Said every single one was his.”
Sophia’s heart squeezed. She already knew this, of course, but hearing Daniela say it aloud—hearing that heavy edge in her voice—made her bite down hard on her tongue.
Daniela’s voice softened as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I thought I finally found them. I thought it would feel different. I thought I’d finally be happy. But… I don’t know. He’s not what I thought he’d be.”
Sophia studied her, searching for words. Searching for air. “...You don’t like him?”
Daniela’s lips parted, but she only gave a faint, humorless laugh. “No… I mean—I tried. I thought I did. But I just think he’s not…” she trailed off, eyes dropping. “I just think it’s not him…”
Silence fell. The weight of it pressed down on both of them.
Sophia wanted to say because it isn’t him. It was me. But the words are lodged in her throat, stabbing her like thorns.
Daniela, still staring at the table, suddenly asked Sophia. “Do you know about locker 210?”
Sophia’s stomach dropped. The blood drained from her face. She could clearly and loudly hear her pulse in her ears.
She forced a small smile, trying desperately to sound casual. “Locker 210…?”
Daniela lifted her gaze then, eyes sharp but searching, like she was holding her breath waiting for an answer.
And Sophia knew—this was the edge of the clip.
“Yeah. Locker 210. The one people keep sending requests to… do you know about it?” Daniela tilted her head a bit, eyes locked on Sophia’s face like she was reading her.
Sophia’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book. Her stomach twisted, but she kept her voice even. “I’ve… heard about it, I guess. People talk,” she says it with a little bit of confidence.
Daniela hummed softly, unconvinced. She leaned in just a little, resting her chin on her hand, watching Sophia closely. “Mhm. Heard anything… interesting?”
Sophia forced a laugh, flipping her book open as if she were busy. “Not really. Just dumb requests and cheesy things. Nothing special.”
Daniela’s smile curled, faint but knowing. She let out a short laugh through her nose, like Sophia had just told herself without realizing it. “Cheesy, huh?”
Sophia felt as if her heart was trying to break out of her chest. “…Yeah. Cheesy.”
For a moment, Daniela didn’t say anything. She just studied Sophia, eyes shining with something unreadable, something that made Sophia feel pinned to her chair.
Then Daniela leaned back casually, as if nothing had happened. “Right. Just checking.”
Daniela now felt physically relaxed. Sophia had to put her book down on the table and keep her eyes on the page because if she kept staring back at Daniela, she knew she’d give herself away.
After a moment, Sophia was finally back to reading. She tapped her pen against the page of her book a couple of times before scribbling a small note in the margin, her handwriting neat but slightly slanted, trailing off at the edges like it always did when she got lost in thought.
Daniela took this upon herself to just watch and study the way Sophia moved.
Her eyes flickered down, and immediately, her eyes locked on Sophia’s handwriting.
Her chest tightened as recognition struck.
She knew those strokes, those loops. She’d see them again and again in every letter slipped into her locker.
Her lips parted, ready to say something—anything—but just then, her phone buzzed against the table.
She blinked, breaking her gaze away. A message from Lara lit up her screen
“Found something about locker 210. Come now.”
Daniela’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt nervous but excited at the same time.
She looked back at Sophia, who was still bent over her book, pretending not to notice the way Daniela had gone quiet.
“I… I have to go.”
Sophia glanced up, looking confused, but still offered Daniela a smile. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”
Daniela stood, lingering for a moment longer, her eyes flickering back to Sophia’s handwriting on the page. She swallowed.
“See you around.” She didn’t even wait for Sophia to respond; she walked away from that table and never looked back despite feeling Sophia’s eyes following her.
The image of Sophia’s handwriting burned in her mind. The same curves, the same tilt… Daniela knew it was her.
—
“Okay. Two things.” Lara didn’t even wait for Daniela to settle down; she immediately went straight for it.
They were in an empty classroom, and Daniela didn’t even know how Lara and Yoonchae found an unoccupied room.
Daniela leaned forward, mentally preparing herself with whatever information Lara had.
“First. My friend said she swears she saw Dylan hanging out by locker 210 more than once a few months ago. She thought he was just sending in requests, but I don’t know at this point.”
Daniela’s stomach twisted. Again with Dylan? It fit his version of the story, sure—but something about it still felt wrong.
Yoonchae waves her hand dismissively. “That’s weak. He could’ve just been nosy.”
“Exactly.” Lara snaps her fingers, beaming. “Which is why the second thing is better.” She pulled out a folded piece of paper, worn at the edges.
“One of my friends actually kept their old request from locker 210. Some cheesy apology letter they asked for. The person who received it slapped my friend across the face and threw the letter back at them.”
Yoonchae winced, “Oh. Harsh.”
Daniela reached for it, and Lara passed it to her right away. Her eyes scanned the page once, twice. The words barely registered. What caught her attention was the handwriting.
The careful strokes, the slightly messy loops on the “y’s,” the faint tilt on every line.
She bit her lip as her eyes wandered.
She knew this handwriting. She’d stared at it in the margins of her letters too many times not to.
“It’s the same.”
“—as your letters? Well, yeah. We’ve already established that. Locker 210 is the one who writes for you.”
Lara shrugged, but Daniela shook her head slowly. “No, Sophia’s.”
Yoonchae tilted her head. “You’ve seen Sophia’s handwriting?”
“A few times. I was with her earlier. She was annotating a book she was reading, and saw a glimpse of her handwriting.”
Lara’s eyes sharpened. “Then shouldn’t we be checking some of her written works?”
They all fall silent. How were they even going to get a hold of Sophia’s old homeworks? Some of her essays can work—or maybe Daniela can check Sophia in the library again.
But that would be too suspicious.
Daniela fears that Sophia might just deny everything if she even tries to ask directly.
She had already pretended not to know much about locker 210 earlier…
“Should we ask Megan and Manon again?” Yoonchae’s eyes flicker between Daniela and Lara.
“No, they’ll just keep on stalling like the last time.” Lara shook her head almost instantly.
Daniela sighs, leaning back on the chair. This was starting to get so frustrating for her. Why couldn’t she just get confirmation? Why do they need to hide it from her?
What was their reason?
She already knows it’s Sophia… why can’t they just tell her directly without stalling?
The hold she has on the paper that Lara handed to her was tight. Like she was scared it would disappear right in front of her if she didn’t hold it tight.
She’ll find a way.
She’ll look for a way.
Something they won’t be able to deny.
Daniela sat at her desk that night, the old request Lara had gotten from her friend in her hands. The faded ink, the loops in the letters, the way the t’s crossed slightly higher than normal—she knew this handwriting.
She reached for the book on her shelf. The one she had asked Sophia to annotate.
She remembered how Sophia highlighted her favorite part. How she scribbled in the margins.
Daniela flipped through the pages; her fingers trembled until she finally found it.
“This one’s mine. :)” scrawled in the corner of a stanza.
The handwriting was exactly the same—the curve of the “s,” the little smiley face with a slightly crooked line.
She pressed the two papers side by side on her desk. The old request and Sophia’s annotation. Perfect match.
Every gentle word that healed her. Every letter she held to her chest. Every moment in the library when Sophia’s quiet presence felt like safety—it was her behind everything.
Her chest ached, the truth landing heavy. She wanted to laugh at how blind she’d been. She wanted to cry because of how much she’d known all along.
Then, as if on cue, her phone lit up.
Lara’s message popped up as soon as she turned her head to look at the screen.
“You up to look for Sophia’s old written works in the faculty storage room?”
—
Lara having friends in the student council was practically a master key. She knew everyone and maybe everything.
Her friend, nervous but loyal, slipped her into the faculty storage room where old essays and paperwork were archived.
“Okay, we only have ten minutes before the secretary comes back. Look fast.” Lara whispered, giving Daniela a slight push.
Daniela rifled through folders like her life depended on it.
She immediately went to the files that started with the letter “S,” hoping that Sophia’s file would be there.
Her heart pounded as she saw the name “S.E. Laforteza.”
She didn’t waste any time and immediately opened it. There were tons and tons of papers in it. Essays, handwritten drafts, even a poem scrawled on the back of a scratch paper.
It felt like she found treasure when she saw Sophia’s written works.
Her internal celebration was immediately cut off when they heard footsteps and voices from the hall.
“Okay, okay, hear me out, Megan. If we just—” Manon physically froze when she stepped inside and found Lara, Daniela, and Yoonchae crouched on the floor, surrounded by Sophia’s old papers.
Megan had bumped into Manon’s shoulder before she could even register what she was seeing.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Megan blurted out loud. She wasn’t even able to stop herself.
The air went dead silent. No one knew what to say.
Lara didn’t even expect them to come in… she only thought the secretary would be the one coming back in ten minutes, not Manon and Megan!
The air went dead silent as Manon and Megan stared at them with unimpressed eyes. “What the hell are you guys doing?” Manon asks, voice coming out stern.
“You guys aren’t supposed to be in here!” Megan hissed before turning her head and looking out into the hall. “You guys could get in serious trouble!”
Lara blinked before standing up, straightening as if regaining her confidence. “What are you guys doing in here. Are you guys trying to hide something from us?”
Her tone was accusatory, eyes sharp and eyeing them as if they were the ones snooping around.
Megan gasped, looking so offended. “Excuse me? We’re supposed to be here!”
“This is our task. Our community service, if you will.” Manon crossed her arms, still eyeing them. “What’s your excuse?”
“Yeah! And what are you guys talking about? Hiding what exactly??”
Megan and Manon looked genuinely clueless, and now Daniela felt guilty for snooping around in the faculty storage room.
Yoonchae looked between Daniela and Lara as if wanting them to say something, anything, so that they could get out of this situation.
But in Daniela’s head, they’ve already been caught. Daniela didn’t want to pretend that this never happened.
Daniela straightened, holding one of Sophia’s essays in her hand. Her eyes cut sharply. “You two know something, don’t you? About locker 210.”
Manon huffs, “I thought we were done with this? Guys, we don’t know anything else other than—”
“About Sophia.” Daniela cut Manon off, and it instantly shut her up.
None of them spoke. They just stood there like they had been caught as well. Megan looked guilty, while Manon looked like she was thinking of something else to say.
It was as if bringing Sophia’s name up had made them nonverbal.
Daniela knew that she was right. They know something.
About locker 210 and Sophia being one person.
Manon opened her mouth, closed it, then sighed. Leaning back against the wall, arms still crossed.
“Don’t bullshit us this time. We’re not leaving without answers.” Lara stepped in, no longer looking guilty.
Megan panicked. Her brain scrambled for an escape. “Look, it’s not what it looks like—”
“Can we just drop everything and tell each other the truth? We’re tired. Daniela’s tired. We’re desperate and on our knees.” Yoonchae cuts Megan off. Their eyes meet, and Yoonchae’s look soft, gentle… pleading. Megan bit her lip, lowering her head to avoid her gaze.
Manon ran her fingers through her hair. “Okay, okay… fine! You guys want proof? You want answers? The truth?” she turned to Megan, defeated. “Show them.”
Megan blinked. “Show them what?”
“Your laptop.”
Megan’s soul visibly left her body. She knew what Manon was talking about… she just had to make sure she didn’t hear it wrong. “You mean the laptop with—”
“Yes, that laptop.” Manon hissed, eyes narrowing.
Lara didn’t know what was going on; she exchanged looks with both Daniela and Yoonchae as she crossed her arms.
With no way out, Megan pulled it from her bag, muttering curses under her breath. Her laptop was Sophia’s backup whenever she would forget hers at home.
Megan hesitantly opened the files—half-baked requests for classmates that Sophia had written for fun, little fragments of her own drafts, even an unfinished love letter that no one knew who belonged to.
There were pictures of Sophia’s physical written requests, some in documents and in a notes app.
Daniela leaned in and felt as if her pulse physically stopped.
The handwriting was identical.
The loops. The tilt. Even the stupid way Sophia dotted her i’s with faint slants.
Of course, Daniela would be able to recognize it. The number of letters Sophia had sent her and the number of times Daniela read them. It was unmistakable.
Her hands shook as she scrolled through more files, as if seeing more would finally make Daniela accept the truth.
Lara and Yoonchae turned to Manon and Megan, waiting for confirmation.
Manon sighed. “Congratulations. You cracked it.”
Daniela’s knuckles tightened on the edge of Megan’s laptop. “Why did you two deny everything? You both knew! You both knew from the very start! Why did you two keep hiding her? Why not just tell me it was Sophia all along?” Her voice was low and sharp.
“Please, no more lies this time,” Lara said, eyeing both of them.
Manon’s shoulders sagged, like every ounce of fight had finally drained out. “Sophia never meant to write you a letter. It started as a random request. Just one. She swore she’d never do it… Aside from the fact that the person who sent it didn’t leave money… it wasn’t really specific. Sophia didn’t know what to write.”
Megan nodded, “We didn’t know why she still wrote to you, though… The first ever letter you received was hers. Her own thoughts, her own observations. Everything was hers. Dylan may have sent in that request, but the words were all from Sophia, then she swore not to do it again.”
Daniela blinked before sighing. “Then… my letter showed up?”
Manon nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yours appeared inside locker 210. And… she couldn’t stop herself from responding. No matter how many times she said she’d quit… she always came back to yours.”
“Sophia didn’t have any rules for locker 210… She just accepted what she could. Maybe she did have rules for herself, she probably broke all of them just for you.” Megan added, her voice quieter and gentler this time.
Daniela’s throat felt tight, like she couldn’t swallow. All this time, all the wondering, all the late nights asking herself who could understand her like that—it was Sophia.
She knew it was her. She hoped it was her.
Now that it was real… she had a hard time breathing.
Not because she was still denying it, but because it dawned on her that Sophia saw everything. Her going out with Dylan… in her eyes, she probably thought Daniela chose him.
She probably thought she could never be with Daniela.
And that’s what hurts Daniela the most.
Her mind couldn’t stop replaying everything—every smile, every half-conversation with Sophia that never felt long enough. The library table. Their dates and the painting in the art room. All of Sophia’s poems on the magnet boards. Their conversation at the party by the pool.
Sophia’s voice when she asked, “You don’t like him?” about Dylan, her eyes holding something deeper.
Every letter, every word that made Daniela feel seen in a way no one else had managed—Sophia had been behind it.
And Daniela felt so stupid for doubting herself. For clinging to Dylan’s empty words, trying to force belief into a lie, when her heart knew all along.
How much closer she had always been to Sophia without realizing it. How much she missed, how blind she’d been.
And now that it was confirmed, the truth sat heavy and overwhelming in her chest.
—
The sun is warm, but Daniela is cold.
She walks across the quad with purpose. Dylan’s sitting on a bench with his friends, fresh from football practice. He looked relaxed, sipping from a drink like he owns the damn place.
He sees her approaching and smiles like nothing is wrong. “Hey.”
Her chest boiled. She didn’t even say anything else and went straight for it. “You are the biggest fucking liar I’ve ever met.”
He was startled, his calm and unbothered demeanor melting away. “Dani—what? What are you talking about?”
She stormed closer as she took something from her bag. One of the letters. The ones that Sophia wrote. It was folded neatly, edges slightly worn.
She holds it up right in front of him. “This. You didn’t write this,” her voice came out sharp, something no one has ever heard. “You claimed them. Every single one. But they weren’t yours.”
Dylan swallowed hard, guilt flickering across his face. At this point, all his friends were staring at them and listening as if they were part of the conversation.
He stood up and pulled Daniela away. “Let’s not talk in front of them… and I told you, Dani… I said I had locker 210 ghostwrite them, remember?”
When they were far enough from his group of friends, Daniela snatched her hand away, taking a step back. “No. That’s not what you said last time. You said you only had one ghostwritten for you, and you said the rest were yours.”
Dylan frowns as if he couldn’t remember before sighing. “Look, Dani…”
“Say one line. Just one. From any of the letters. Or the poems. Or maybe the sticky notes, anything!”
Dylan bit the insides of his cheek, shifting his weight from one leg to another. “I mean… I didn’t memorize them or anything—”
“Because you didn’t write them.”
He fiddled with his pockets, eyes on the ground. He couldn’t even look up at Daniela.
“I reread everything. Compared every word. You say things that don’t match what the letters say. You have beliefs and opinions that are contradictory to everything that is written in all the letters I’ve received.”
Dylan’s face completely falters. He sighs once more, finally realizing how serious this was, and no amount of lying can save him. “Okay… okay, I messed up. But Dani, I only said that because I wanted you by my side. When I saw the painting, the sticky notes on the walls… I knew I had to know more,” he sighs again. “I asked around, looked for things that would connect you to that painting, and I eventually did… I found out that you were writing to someone, and someone was writing to you. I knew it had something to do with my request… so I took the chance. I thought if I said it was me, maybe I'd finally have a chance with you.”
“A chance?” Daniela scoffed; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Do you hear yourself? You lied to me! You let me believe you were the one behind the words that…” her throat tightened, “...That meant the world to me. Do you have any idea how cruel that is?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—I thought it wouldn’t matter who wrote them, as long as you were happy. And I wanted to be the one to make you happy.” His voice cracked as he tried to defend himself.
Daniela laughed bitterly, wiping at her cheek. All the frustration, the anger, and the sadness had all built up inside her. “But it does matter! Because the letters weren’t claiming me, or showing me off, or keeping me as some prize. They weren’t about you. They were honest. Gentle. Genuine. Everything you’re not,”
Dylan felt his heart drop, his hands gripping his knees. “You’re right… You’re right, I’m an idiot. I just didn’t know what else to do. I wanted you so badly I thought—”
“You thought what?? That lying would make me love you?!”
The silence that followed cut deeper than any yell could.
Daniela felt her lungs hurting as if all the air had left her body. Her face felt hot, and her eyes stung. “Do you know what it’s like to fall for someone you’ve never seen? And to know that it’s not you?”
Dylan couldn’t say a word. He was stunned. He couldn’t come up with anything to defend himself anymore.
Daniela slowly shook her head, stepping back slowly. “Don’t ever use someone’s words again. Not if they weren’t yours to begin with.”
Dylan’s lips parted, like he wanted to beg her to stay—but when she turned away, he didn’t follow. His guilt sat heavy, but it was too late.
Daniela leaves. Head held high.
—
It had been a week.
A week of silence, of no letters, of Dylan nowhere near her anymore, of Lara and Yoonchae trying to distract her with study sessions and coffee runs.
Daniela went back to her old rhythm, but her chest carried a constant weight.
And Sophia… She still saw her in the hallways.
Still passing by, shoulders hunched, eyes avoiding hers. Sometimes their gazes brushed, but Sophia always looked away too quickly, like Daniela’s stare burned.
Daniela didn’t know how she would ever confront her. How to even begin unraveling everything that had been tangled between them.
The unspoken truths, the silent yearning, and the unheard confessions.
Daniela wanted to reach out and talk to Sophia, but she didn’t know how…
How can she even confront the girl who had been writing her letters nonstop without scaring them?
Daniela has yet to experience something like this… no one taught her how to navigate it.
So she settled in the silence between the two of them despite Daniela’s loud emotions.
She settled despite wanting to do more.
Until she no longer felt it. Until the words on the letters fade, until she forgets that this ever happened.
It went on like that. She pushes her feelings down until they disappear. For a while, she was alright with that. She tells herself she was fine with it.
Until that afternoon.
She opened her locker, books shifting inside, and then she froze.
A folded piece of paper sat neatly on top of her things. Her heart stumbled against her ribs.
She felt her stomach churn as she reached for it. She didn’t know who sent it. She was nervous and scared.
Maybe it was from Dylan, finally writing his own letter as an apology…
Or maybe it’s…
No. That wouldn’t make sense… would it?
Her hands shook as she opened it.
“Dear Daniela,
I’m not sure why I’m still writing.
You always call me cocky and bold and ask if I’m confident. I’m not any of those, I think.
I think I’m a coward. I hide away and use my words as a shield. I’m not as proud of it now because I ran away from you when you’d already left.
It’s funny to think that I’d still run away despite you being with someone else.
They can take all the credit for my writing for all I care, but the moment they took you away, I was shattered.
Am I considered selfish for wanting to keep you? For writing for a boy and then taking away his chances by writing to you at my own will?
If it means I get to keep you, I’ll be selfish through and through.
I want these words to be heard by others. I want them to know how much I admire you, how much I write about you.
I want them to hear what I have to say, and I want them to think about you and only you when I speak.
Gusto kitang mahalin nang maingay. I have always wanted to. Now I can’t do it. I have lost the chance to.
I’m sorry if I ran away. But you have him, now.
I doubt you’d see this.
Yours. Always yours,
Sophia.”
She read every line, her eyes drinking in every word like water in a drought. By the time she reached the last few parts, her eyes widened when she saw Sophia’s name written.
Daniela immediately pulled out her phone when she saw the part she couldn’t understand. It must have been Sophia’s mother tongue.
She typed it in her phone despite her shaky fingers pressing the wrong letters on her screen.
Once she finally got it translated, her hand covered her mouth, her vision started to blur as tears started to cloud her view.
I want to love you loudly.
The words echo in her head over and over again.
She stared back at the piece of paper, trembling.
The same tiny imperfections in every letter. The same warmth is woven into each word. Daniela breathed unevenly as she held it tight.
Sophia had just confessed. Without hiding behind a different name, without denying who she is.
Just Sophia finally telling her directly how selfish she is about Daniela. How much she wanted her words to be heard. How she wanted people to find out about how she felt about Daniela.
And it’s just her.
Sophia.
Daniela runs.
She runs to where she knows Sophia will be. Not in the library, not anywhere else that the other students will see.
A place that Daniela knows means so much to her.
—
In the art room, it was warm.
Not hot enough to make anyone sweat, but it was warm despite it being 3 in the afternoon.
The sky was starting to bleed gold against the ground and the walls, casting faint streaks of warmth across the scattered canvases and the paint-smeared floor.
It’s quiet, save for the soft strokes of a paintbrush.
Sophia is there.
Alone.
She’s seated on the floor in front of a newly opened canvas. It looked empty, but Sophia’s careful strokes had started to spill a dark shade of purple across it.
She’s making something new. Something soft but heavy. The detail doesn’t matter, not yet.
Behind her, Daniela walks in, and she stops.
Sophia doesn’t hear her at first. She’s too lost in her own world. Too lost in the quiet. In the stillness. In her own thoughts.
Then she senses it.
She turns her head, and their eyes meet.
Both of them felt as if time had slowed down. It’s been a while since they’ve looked at each other for more than a second.
Daniela’s heart stumbles in her chest. Because she knows. It’s her.
The way Sophia looks at her holds every word in every letter. Every smile in every sentence. Every unspoken confession. The line that screamed she wanted Daniela more than anything else.
I want to love you loudly. Daniela can see it through her eyes.
“It’s you.” Daniela’s voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.
Sophia doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. She just stares back, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, paintbrush still in hand.
She looks like she’s about to deny it. Like she was about to run away again.
But the truth is already painted in the air around them. There’s nothing left to hide.
So instead, Sophia sets the brush down slowly.
And softly, almost unapologetically, she whispers. “Yes. It’s me.”
The air between them is still. Sophia didn’t know what to expect. Maybe an outburst from Daniela, a tearful goodbye, a dramatic “how could you?” but none of that comes.
Instead, Daniela walks over and slowly sits beside her.
Cross-legged. Calm. Steady.
Her shoulder brushes against Sophia’s, and Sophia swears her body tenses with the weight of being this close.
Real, not hidden behind metaphors or lockers and letters.
Daniela fiddles with her bag strap before she speaks up. “I haven’t finished the book.”
Sophia blinks before tilting her head a bit to the side. “What book?”
“This is how you lose the time war.”
“Oh.” Sophia leans back a little. She was thinking of what else to say, but Daniela spoke up before her. “But do you want to know what my favorite line is in the book?”
Sophia is confused, her heart is aching with nerves, but she nods. “Sure.”
Daniela reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen—the same one she always uses to annotate her books. The one that’s been trailing hearts and thoughts through This Is How You Lose The Time War for weeks now.
Then, without asking permission—but with a kind of quiet reverence—Daniela gently takes Sophia’s arm.
And slowly, like a secret being carved into skin, she writes her favorite line.
“In this letter I am yours. Not your garden’s, not your mission’s, but yours, alone.”
It takes Sophia a moment to process. To feel the words. To read them. To realize what Daniela’s really saying.
And when she does, her voice comes out cracked. “...That’s your favorite?”
Daniela nods. Still holding her arm. Her thumb gently traced over the words on Sophia’s skin, sending shivers down Sophia’s spine.
“Yeah… because it reminded me of you.”
Sophia stares at her. At the girl who went looking through handwriting and poetry just to find her. Who knew her words better than she knew her voice. Who found her, even after she tried so hard to disappear.
And in the quiet between them, it’s as if every unsent letter, every stolen glance, every almost slipped truth collapses into this single moment.
Sophia swallows hard. “...Can I be yours now?”
Daniela looks up and smiles. “You always were.”
Sophia doesn’t know how to respond. She just stares at the words inked on her arm and at the girl beside her.
But Daniela isn’t done.
Her voice shakes. Not with fear, but with honesty. “I know you don’t care if people take all the credit for your writing…”
Sophia’s breath hitches.
“…but I don’t want anyone else pretending to be you.”
She turns fully to her now, eyes burning with something fierce—not anger, not heartbreak. Just love. Earnest, raw love. “They can’t be you. They can’t see me the way you do.”
Sophia opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
Daniela continues. “I only want you to see me. Only you.”
And that’s it. That’s all it takes.
Sophia drops her brush. Turns fully. Leans in.
And finally, finally, after months of metaphor and misdirection, after hiding behind words and poetry and painted walls—
They kiss.
Daniela meets her halfway. It’s slow at first. Gentle. Like they’re both trying not to shatter the moment.
But then Daniela tilts her head just a little more, and Sophia’s hand moves instinctively to her cheek, and it deepens—needier, now that they know. Now that there’s nothing left to fear.
The letters. The art. The painting. The book. The lies. The truth.
It’s all in this kiss.
And when they pull away, just barely, foreheads resting against each other’s, Sophia exhales a shaky laugh.
She finally feels like she didn’t need words to express how much she felt for her.
“Daniela…” she whispers.
Daniela stares, vision blurring. Her lip trembles as she closes her eyes. The tears fall, and Sophia leans back just a bit.
“Hey—hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Sophia gently brushes the loose curls in front of Daniela’s face.
She nods before smiling. “Y-yeah… I just… this is the first time I’ve ever heard you say my name.”
Sophia blinks before letting out a quiet laugh. “Then, I’ll say it over and over… until I’m the only voice you remember.”
—
Months later, the campus buzzed with its usual chaos.
Students shouting across the quad. Music was spilling faintly from the auditorium.
Sophia and Daniela would always walk side by side. Fingers intertwined so naturally that it was as if they had always been that way.
Daniela’s laugh rang out at something Megan said up ahead, and Sophia’s lips curled into a smile without her even noticing.
They had slipped into a rhythm. A norm.
Sophia would always wait outside Daniela’s class so they could go home together.
Daniela would save Sophia a seat in the library and would shush her with a teasing grin when she rambled too loudly about a poem.
Late nights spent sprawled on Sophia’s floor, Megan and Manon playing cards nearby while Yoonchae and Lara critiqued the snacks Sophia bought.
The letters were gone, but the words never stopped.
Sophia would scribble notes in Daniela’s textbooks. “Don’t forget to drink water, mahal.”
And Daniela would write little messages on Sophia’s arm when they shared a class and sat together. “Library later?”
The difference was — this time, everyone knew.
There was no more hiding.
They would have library dates when they couldn’t go out to eat lunch.
They’d claim the same corner table every week. Daniela doodled on the margins of her notes, and Sophia stole Daniela’s highlighters just to make her pout.
Sometimes Daniela leaned her head on Sophia’s shoulder while she read, and Sophia would lose all focus on her book.
Once, Yoonchae caught them and whispered too loudly. “God, you guys are disgustingly cute.”
And Manon and Megan? They would torment the girls at midnight. Megan would pull up with her car, with Manon and Sophia, in front of Lara’s house whenever the other girls were sleeping over.
They’d drag them out for fries at a nearby fast-food restaurant.
Daniela sat in the booth, pressed against Sophia, stealing her fries even though she had her own. Sophia pretended to be annoyed, but let her.
Their friends would tease them and act as if this was the first time they’d ever seen them flirt with each other in front of them.
Daniela and Sophia could share books freely now without having to wait for each other’s letters.
Sophia would leave tiny notes in Daniela’s books.
“Page 64 will make you cry.”
Or just something random like “Don’t forget I love you.”
And Daniela would retaliate by writing on Sophia’s arm like she always does. “Date after this. No excuses.”
And through all of it, the letters never returned.
They didn’t need them anymore.
Daniela still thought about them sometimes, but now she had the real thing — Sophia beside her, smiling, teasing, kissing her when no one was looking (and sometimes when everyone was).
Their new normal was that. Soft mornings, chaotic nights, laughter with friends, and love that didn’t need hiding.
Notes:
Okay, this was the longest chapter I have ever written... so I decided to cut the last part and put it in a separate chapter. I'll keep this end note short and maybe I'll update again and post the next part later or tomorrow. Anyway, enjoy this long chapter before it finally ends!
Chapter Text
Being in Sophia’s room isn’t new to Daniela anymore. They’ve been together for months, and Daniela has practically memorized every inch of Sophia’s room in her mind.
But today was different.
Sophia had cleaned her room. She rearranged some stuff and took out a few things that made her room spacious.
Daniela looked around Sophia’s room, checking the places that Sophia had changed. It wasn’t drastic.
Everything just looked new in Daniela’s eyes.
Sophia’s bed had new sheets. She had pushed the small couch to the corner of the room. Her shelf filled with books stayed in one corner, the books were arranged in colors now, though.
Then, Daniela’s eyes landed on Sophia’s table.
There were papers there, stacked neatly in a corner.
But her eyes landed on a letter that looked unopened.
It looked the same as the ones Sophia would send her back then.
It wasn’t wax sealed or anything; it was just there. Out of curiosity, Daniela took it and opened it.
“Dear Daniela,
Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to stop running.
I’ve been painting shadows of you, tracing you in words, letting the world see you through me, but never letting you see me through me. I told myself I’d stay hidden, because hidden things cannot break.
But you’ve already found me in the dark, haven’t you?
You’ve been reaching in with your words, your patience, your fury, your yearning—until I’m no longer certain if I am the one writing to you or if I’ve simply become the one you’ve written into existence.
I want you to know that I’m not afraid of you. I am not afraid to face and admit what I feel for you. I am only afraid of what you would say once you’ve seen me. But if you ask, I’ll come forward.
If you open the door, I’ll step right through.
I’ll face you.
Not as a shadow. Not as a nameless painter. Not as a stranger who knows how to love you in the ways you’ve always wanted.
Not as a stranger who loves you from the corners of a page.
I’ll face you as me.
—Yours.”
Daniela looked confused. This was for her… but… why didn’t Sophia send it to her?
And as if on cue, the door opens and Sophia enters. She was holding her phone and immediately beamed when she saw Daniela.
“Hey,” Sophia said, looking giddy. She immediately slipped her arms around Daniela, pulling her close. “Sorry, I just had to throw a couple of things out.”
Daniela leaned against her, humming. “That’s okay.” She still held the letter in her hands, and Sophia had yet to notice it.
But Daniela’s curious.
“Hey… so… when did you write this?”
Sophia pulled back slightly to see what Daniela was referring to.
When her eyes landed on the letter, she blinked. “Oh, that.” She chuckles. “That was supposed to be my confession letter to you… But then, before I could slip it into your locker, Dylan had sent me a letter in locker 210 with money.”
She said it so casually as if that wasn’t the day that she thought she had fully lost Daniela.
Daniela already knew that story; she just didn’t know the letter part. Sophia probably forgot about it.
“So… this is an unsent letter?”
“Well, is it still unsent if you’ve already read it?”
Daniela frowns; she does think about it. Sophia does have a point, but she chuckles, bumping her head against Sophia’s shoulder. “I guess you have a point.”
Then there was silence between them. Sophia held her close and never let go, even if they were still standing in front of Sophia’s desk.
“You were hurt, weren’t you?” Daniela curiously asked as Sophia scoffed. “Of course, I was.”
“Why didn’t you just go up to me and tell me?”
Sophia shrugs and gives her a tired smile. She pulls Daniela to finally sit on the bed. “I don’t know… I thought you were happy. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”
“…Even if it hurts?”
“If it’s you, I’ll take it.”
Daniela stares at her, heart twisting in her chest. Then she gently cradles Sophia’s face and presses a soft, careful kiss on her cheek. “You don’t have to prove you love me by enduring pain, you know.”
Sophia offers her a small smile. “I’m not. Not anymore.”
Daniela pulls her close before hugging her and burying her face in her girlfriend’s neck. “That’s good to hear.”
After a while, they end up cuddling in Sophia’s bed despite their agreement to watch a movie on Sophia’s laptop.
They were both too tired anyway.
Daniela shifts slightly, her voice soft—vulnerable in a way she rarely allows herself to be. “I’ve been thinking lately… How were you able to see through me? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you that.”
Sophia, half-lidded eyes, breathes in and hums. “It’s not that hard, honestly. I mean… You have a pattern. Weird little ones. I knew you couldn’t be that perfect. No one can.”
Daniela turns to look at her, a bit startled. “So… you saw through my act. Saw my flaws. Thought that I’m… not perfect?”
Sophia laughs gently, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Yeah. You suck at lying. Like, terribly. You try to act chill, but your hands always give you away. You can’t really hide your emotions that well, either. You’re loud when you think no one’s listening—like, emotionally loud. It’s kind of funny.”
Daniela’s mouth opens, offended and flustered.
“You’re clumsy too. Always bumping into stuff or forgetting where you placed your bag. And you kinda look like the type who always needs a hand—not because you’re incapable, but… because I think you thrive when someone’s beside you. Someone who sees you, supports you. Emotionally, mostly.” Sophia’s tone sounded like she was teasing Daniela, but in reality, she said those things out of fondness.
But Daniela is staring at her now, blinking.
Sophia’s voice comes out softer now. “You’re imperfect. A little messy. Rough around the edges. But soft. So, so soft.”
Then, finally, Sophia stops talking, and Daniela takes this opportunity to respond.
“…Are those bad things?” Her voice wavers slightly.
Sophia just smiles and reaches up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve gotten like… what? Over twenty letters from me in that tone? You should know by now that I’m complimenting you.”
Daniela rolls her eyes, trying not to melt. Sophia chuckles at her reaction. “But no, none of that is bad. You’re just… you. You apologize for it sometimes, but there’s nothing to be sorry for. Not to me.”
And Daniela—this girl who spent so long trying to be polished and perfect and untouchable—just melts. Fully. Entirely.
She tucks her face into Sophia’s neck, lips brushing her skin as she whispers softly. “Why do you always say the things I needed to hear years ago?”
Sophia is breathing in the moment. “Because I’ve always been watching. Even when you didn’t know I was.”
And they stay like that with Daniela feeling loved and seen once more.
The room is still. Quiet but full of something heavy and warm.
Like the air itself has softened around them.
Sophia’s hand is resting on Daniela’s back now, drawing slow circles. And Daniela—pressed close, cheek resting against Sophia’s neck—suddenly shifts, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye.
She stared at her for a while. Eyes soft, searching. “It really is you, huh?”
Sophia tilts her head slightly. Confused. “I mean… yeah?”
Daniela smiles. A small, aching smile. “No, I mean… You speak exactly the way you write. The same rhythm, the same words…” She brushes her fingers against Sophia’s cheek, so light it’s almost reverent. “I kept rereading those letters… trying to understand how you knew me so well. How you always said the right things. And now—hearing you say them out loud, just like that…”
She pauses before she whispers the next few words that she comes up with. “I’m lucky I get to kiss the lips that hold so much meaning. So many beautiful, painful, honest words.”
Sophia swallows. She didn’t expect Daniela to say all of those to her. Her heart was full and too loud in her chest.
“…Dani, that’s not fair.” She choked out, flustered. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me not to combust.”
Daniela laughs softly, then leans in to kiss her slowly—like punctuation to every letter, every word, every moment that brought them here.
When she pulls away, she smiles at Sophia, “So now do you know what I yearn for?”
Sophia hums, “I may be wrong.”
The smile on Daniela’s lips becomes playful. “Try to guess, you were never able to guess before.”
Sophia frowns, shifting against Daniela on the bed. She thinks long and hard about it. “Something that you long for? Hmm, to be yourself with someone who loves all sides of you?”
Daniela shrugs. “Is that what you think?” Her smile widens.
Sophia stared at her before smiling back. “Weird thought, you’re like a Rubik’s cube.”
Daniela snorts, smacking Sophia on the shoulder. “A rubik’s cube? Is this one of your metaphors again?”
The older girl blinks before nodding, never losing the smile on her lips. “Maybe? Wanna hear my explanation?”
Daniela only nods, waiting for Sophia to lay out her crazy explanation for this one.
“Okay, so.” She clears her throat as if she were going to deliver a life-changing speech, and Daniela laughs. “A Rubik’s Cube has many sides, right? And you can switch it around depending on which color it is. When it’s shuffled, it’s hard to solve, but that’s the fun part. Trying to solve it and making it whole again.”
Daniela nods slowly, looking amused. “Uh-huh, are you trying to solve me?”
“I am,” Sophia responded almost immediately. “But I’m not confused with all your color combinations. If I could keep you that way, shuffled, with all the colors mismatched, I’d like that better. Because people seem to always try to solve you, make you look perfect by color-coding each side. But that’s not you, Dani.”
“Then… what am I?”
Sophia's gaze was soft when she spoke again. “Scrambled. A splash of every color, and despite it, you look perfect that way. I don’t need to solve you to understand you.”
Then there was silence. Sophia stared at her, and Daniela stared back.
Sophia wasn’t waiting for an answer. She just looked calm that way.
The lamp in her room buzzes faintly. Casting a warm glow over their tangled limbs and slow-blinking eyes.
Daniela started to unconsciously trace invisible patterns over Sophia’s collarbones, mind processing every word spoken like it was something to be shelved and reread later.
Like a paper, folded and refolded until the creases softened.
“…Well, you’re right. You guessed right.” She sighs. “Just didn’t think you’d be able to make it poetic through a Rubik’s cube metaphor.”
Sophia snorts, pulling back slightly, only for Daniela to hold her in place. “I can make anything poetic if I think about you long enough.”
Daniela rolls her eyes, bumping her forehead on Sophia’s shoulder. She groans against it, half-smiling, half-flustered. “Stop being like this.”
“Like what?”
“Soft… annoying. Smart, poetic, and in love.”
Sophia tilts her head a bit, smirking now. “Oh, so you admit I’m smart?”
“I admit you’re annoying.” But Daniela’s smiling. So much that her face hurts.
And when she leans in to kiss Sophia again, it’s quieter this time. Less about reading, more about being grateful. A kiss that says, Thank you for seeing me like this. Not solved. Not completed. Just… seen.
They stay like that for a while. Skin warmed by the moment.
And eventually, Daniela murmurs again. “You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“I used to dream about receiving love letters from someone who saw me.”
Sophia blinks at her. It’s the first time she has ever heard that.
Then, there’s a playful glint in Daniela’s eyes. “Didn’t think it’d come with someone who could also describe me as a Rubik's cube and somehow make it romantic.”
Sophia laughs involuntarily, her voice soft in the quiet. “You’re welcome. I do custom metaphors, too. Ever heard of locker 210?”
Daniela rolls her eyes and grins.
“Sounds like my girlfriend. Might keep her forever. Metaphors and all.”
Sophia’s fingers brush against Daniela’s arm; they feel feather-like. But it made Daniela shiver and made her skin buzz.
“What about you? Have you guessed what I want yet?” Sophia throws the question back at her, fingers finally settling on the dip of Daniela’s waist.
Daniela hums, eyes flicking up to meet hers. There’s a pause. Thoughtful. Curious.
“That’s a hard one. It feels like you want a lot of things… but only the ones that matter at the same time.”
Sophia’s lips twitch upward. “Well, not far off from the truth.”
Daniela narrows her eyes playfully. “Let me guess again. You want to be understood without needing to explain. You want people to look at your work and feel it, not just admire it. You want silence when things are too loud, and music when things feel too still. You want a kind of love that doesn’t press against your ribs but fits inside them.”
Sophia exhales slowly.
Like Daniela just knocked the wind out of her.
“…That’s really specific,” Sophia whispers.
“Am I wrong?”
“No. Not even a little.”
Daniela smiles now. “Thought so. I’ve been reading your letters too, you know. Every word—you’re all over them. Even when you tried not to be.“
Sophia covers her face with one of her hands. “God, I knew you were going to say that. Each day, you start sounding like me. It’s like you’re using my words against me.”
Daniela laughs at her reaction. “I’m not using them against you…” she trails off. She looks up at the ceiling for a moment before turning to look back at Sophia. “I’m just… holding them gently. Like you held mine.”
Sophia lowers her hand, eyes wide. “You’re gonna kill me with the way you say things.”
“I think you’d be the one to kill me first,” Daniela says softly.
Sophia shifts closer. Her voice lowers, breath brushing Daniela’s lips. “Nah. I’d rather keep you alive. That way you’d never stop saying all that sweet stuff.”
“What if I run out?”
“Then I’ll write it down for you. Again and again. Until the world forgets how to read but still knows how to feel.”
Daniela felt as if her heart swelled. Sophia really does know which words to say.
Until now, she still feels as if she’s talking to Sophia through letters, with the way she talks the same and drops random poetic things and romantic nonsense.
It was nice to feel.
“Is that all you want?” Daniela asks again, purely out of curiosity.
“Well, now that you’re asking me that… I think I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Daniela turns slightly, propping herself on one elbow, eyes fixed on her. “Which is?”
Sophia looks at her like she already knows the answer. “You.” She says it with her tone full of love and affection. “You’re a lot of things, Dani. And you’re what matters all at once. Sure, I want to be associated with my art and writings. I want someone to look at me and read me the way they read my words. Like they don’t separate the two, you know?”
She swallows, eyes soft but steady.
“Like they see me and the writing as one thing. Because that’s what I am. That’s what completes me. The same way you complete yourself—despite not being perfect.”
Daniela’s breath catches, chest rising just a little more than usual. That familiar look crosses her face again: disbelief, wonder, maybe even love in its rawest form.
“How do you do that?” Daniela asks again, eyes wandering around Sophia’s face as if she’s trying to get the answers from her face alone. “Say things that make my heart stop and speed up at the same time?”
Sophia blinks, smiling softly. “Practice? And maybe just… because I mean it.”
Daniela lets out a breathy laugh, eyes glinting as she leans in closer. “Then I hope you never stop meaning it.”
Sophia’s smiling widely now, brushing her fingers along Daniela’s jaw. “I will never stop meaning it.”
Daniela leans into the touch, her voice barely a whisper. “Good.”
Daniela leans in first, her nose brushing against Sophia’s as their lips finally meet again—slow, unrushed, like they have all the time in the world.
It’s soft. And then it’s not.
Because Sophia’s hand curls around Daniela’s waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left, and Daniela’s fingers are already in her hair like she can’t get enough.
They only break when Sophia laughs against her lips.
“God, you kiss like you’re trying to prove something,” Sophia says, out of breath.
Daniela huffs before laughing. “I am. I’m trying to prove I’m your best muse.”
Sophia tilts her head, pretending as if she’s considering it. “You are… but sometimes you’re trouble.”
Daniela frowns, looking offended. “What does that mean??”
“Don’t you think it’s kind of insane for you to snoop through my papers? Oh, and you snooped through my letters earlier.” Sophia teased, having one eyebrow raised.
Daniela rolls her eyes, but then she shrugs like it was nothing. “I wasn’t snooping! It was just there!”
“Then you read it without permission!”
Daniela glares at her, lips pursing. “What? Are you writing to other girls?”
Sophia playfully tapped her chin with her finger, looking up at the ceiling. “Who knows, maybe I am—“
Daniela didn’t even let her finish her sentence. Her hand lands on Sophia’s shoulder. A loud slapping sound echoes throughout the room, followed by Sophia groaning and laughing.
“Dani!!” She dramatically rolls away from the girl, using a small pillow to shield her body from the incoming attacks. “You’re trying to kill me!”
Daniela grabs another pillow from around them, biting her lip as she mercilessly hits Sophia with it. “Yeah, and make your death dramatic like a tragic romance novel since you’re a writer!”
“Oh, how romantic of you! You were just kissing me, and now you want me dead!”
Daniela tackles her with a pillow.
They end up in a tangle of limbs and laughter. The unplanned pillow fight turns into a tickle fight.
Both of them are trying and failing to win a tickle war that becomes several near-kisses, several actual kisses.
They only stop when Sophia bumps her head against the wall, with Daniela laughing but also reaching out to Sophia’s head in concern.
Sophia sits up, and Daniela is kneeling on the bed in front of her.
“Soph—Oh my god—“ she lets out a breathy laugh, “Are you okay??”
Sophia was laughing, shoulders shaking as she held her head with one hand, eyes closed. “Yeah, I’m good!”
Daniela leans closer, patting the spot on Sophia’s head that she bumped against the wall. There’s a faint smile on her lips. Sophia just lets her.
Suddenly, Sophia pulls her in, engulfing her with her arms as Daniela giggles, and they fall back on the bed.
Daniela doesn’t even squirm; she lets Sophia pull her down with her, enjoying the warmth Sophia brings.
And when they’ve finally calmed down, Sophia traces random shapes against Daniela’s back. Her fingers glided gently, lovingly, as if committing every inch into a memory.
Daniela hums, smiling. “You’ve gone quiet. What are you thinking?”
“That you talk a lot.”
Daniela gasps against her chest, squirming a bit. “Rude! You’re one to talk!”
Sophia grins against Daniela’s head. “Hey, I didn’t say that was a bad thing.” She laughs, hugging Daniela tighter. “I like it. I like that your voice is the last thing I hear before I sleep.”
Daniela instantly softens. “…You really mean that?”
“Mhm. You make things quieter even when you talk too much.”
“… and you make things make sense… even when they don’t,” Daniela says sincerely, a little shy.
Sophia adjusts so she can look at Daniela directly before kissing her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.
A slow kiss.
A “we have time” kind of kiss.
“You feel like everything I ever tried to write but never had the words for.” Sophia softly says in between kisses.
“Say that again,” Daniela says, barely above a whisper.
Sophia pulls back, stares directly at her. Admiring Daniela’s hazel eyes before she leans closer, lips brushing hers. “You’re every love letter I almost got right. But better in real life.”
Daniela pulls her closer. A hand slides up Sophia’s shirt. She mumbles against her neck. “You never stop talking poetically, don’t you? Your words always get me like this.”
Sophia chuckles softly. “It’s not just the words, is it?”
Daniela slowly shook her head. “No. It’s also the way you look at me like I’m… everything. I’ve never been everything before.”
“You’ve always been everything,” Sophia whispers as if she’d ruin the moment if she talked just above a whisper. “To so many people. You just never let yourself believe it.”
Daniela looks up at her. Her lips part to say something, but it turns into a sigh when Sophia kisses her again—slow and gentle, almost feather-like.
As if to say Don’t speak, I’ll prove it to you.
It was sweet and grounding. Even when Sophia pulls away, Daniela could still feel Sophia’s lips against hers.
It felt like a promise that won’t ever fade.
Daniela’s hand rests against Sophia’s cheek. There’s a tremble there, not from fear—but from how serious it all suddenly feels.
Sophia leans in and rests her forehead against Daniela’s, eyes fluttering shut as she whispers, low and soft. “Can I love you here?”
Daniela’s breath hitches, and she feels Sophia’s fingers slowly and gently trailing down her spine. “Through the tips of my fingers… through the warmth of my skin… through the movement of my body…”
She kisses the corner of Daniela’s mouth, then her jaw. “…and through my lips kissing your soul?”
Daniela’s eyes flutter shut, a shaky exhale leaving her lungs as if Sophia had just undone her in a single breath.
She feels emotional, like everything she had felt toward Sophia, even the emotions she had long forgotten, came crashing down on her.
It felt heavy in her chest. Her heart weighs more, almost like it’s growing in size by the second.
She could feel her eyes watering as she held onto Sophia tighter, like this would be the last time she’d be able to hold her and feel her.
When she speaks, her voice cracks slightly, and her breath is shaky. “Please. Please do.”
They kiss again and again.
Their kisses are so deep that they forget where one ends and the other begins.
Their kisses felt like letters being written against each other. Spoken and unspoken at the same time.
Laughter slips between touches, and that ache in their chests—the one that had lingered for so long—is finally, finally full.
“I hope this is loud enough for you. I hope I’m loving you loudly, now.” Sophia murmurs before planting more soft kisses around Daniela’s face.
“You can love me as quietly and as loudly as you want. As long as you’re with me and loving me.”
She feels Sophia smile against her cheek, and that was enough.
They didn’t have to talk, didn’t have to say anything more.
Notes:
Holy shit, we're done.
Writing this has been so, so fun. To think that this started with me just spiraling over sodani as characters in The Half Of It universe.
All my writings have been self-indulgent, and I never expected so many people to read and love this so much. I'm really, really grateful to everyone who always commented full-blown chapters in my fics lol you guys are the best. It's also amusing to me how many of you write poetically, even when y'all are just complimenting the way I write. I swear, I feel like I'm reading a love letter from all of you each time.
Some of y'all should start writing honestly! Glad that this prompt left my drafts, I wouldn't have met some of y'all if I didn't (You guys are cool as hell, please start writing lol.)
Anyway, I hope this short last chapter served as a proper closure for Dear whoever. Thank you, and I hope everyone enjoys their day!
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