The boy standing in the summer sun is the person I have been silently in love with for six years.
Everyone hugged each other in twos and threes, saying "smooth sailing" while suppressing the sadness that was growing crazily in their hearts.
I walked up to him step by step. The hot July light reflected the granite pavement, almost glaringly.
I stretched out my arms and hugged the boy in front of me.
"I wish you all the best in the future."
Also, I like you.
I hope everything goes well for you in the future.
Many years later, I suddenly remembered that sunny day.
Why couldn't I even say such a simple sentence back then?
But now it seems that this is not important.