Ever since I received that mysterious note, I began paying closer attention to those around me. Somehow, my eyes often lingered on the boy sitting at the back of the class—the one who once secretly looked at me and quickly turned away.
During lessons, whenever I lifted my head, I would catch his gaze. It wasn’t just an ordinary glance—it carried something gentle yet mysterious.
One time, in the library, as I passed by his desk, I caught sight of a small notebook. The handwriting inside looked exactly like the one on the note. My heart skipped a beat. Could it really be him?
That night, when I logged into my laptop, the “mysterious friend” sent a message again:
> “You looked tired today. Remember to rest.”
I immediately typed back:
“Are you… the one I think you are?”
The screen stayed silent for a long time. Then a line appeared:
> “Perhaps, but… it’s not the right time for you to know.”
My heart pounded, and the image of that boy’s eyes replayed vividly in my mind. The vague reply only made me more confused—caught between excitement and curiosity.
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