I thought I’d hidden it well: your birthday was my lock-screen password, my bag was full of your favorite candy, and my diary was covered in your name. Only later did I learn that you’d deliberately scribbled in your notes, given up your place in the advanced class, and waited on the balcony every night until I turned off the lights before going to sleep. Twelve years, from a carton of strawberry milk to a seashell ring. It wasn’t you who stumbled into my secret crush. I’d stepped into the trap you’d laid long ago.
