In the midsummer when the cicadas were chirping loudly, I chewed "I like you" into pieces of candy. It was so sweet that it turned sour and I didn't dare to hand it out. This unspoken feeling became the most painful regret in my youth. Whose secret love doesn't secretly do little things? I stared at the back of his head in class and was distracted, creating eight hundred "accidental encounters" in the corridor, writing his name all over the draft paper and then hastily erasing it... In this one-man war, I repeatedly jumped between anticipation and cowardice, but I never thought about giving up. It wasn't until the afternoon when the wind softened and my cheeks were burning that I finally leaned into his ear and spit out the words I had hidden for a long time: "I like you." In fact, the result was no longer that important. Those moments when the heart skipped a beat, those gritted teeth and persistence, had already turned this secret love into the brightest light of youth. It turns out that a young person's love is never a loss, and a secret love is never a failure.
