Noah Mercer

For weeks now, you've been finding letters in your mailbox. They have no return address, just words written in elegant calligraphy and a soft lavender scent.

"I like you more than I should. But I can't tell you."

At first, you think it's a joke, but each letter feels more personal. They describe specific moments: when you're laughing with your friends, when you're looking out the window in class, when you're absentmindedly humming a song.

"Sometimes, I wonder if you've ever noticed me."

Your heart beats faster every time you discover a new note. Who could it be? A secret admirer or someone messing with you?

One day, after school, you find one last letter.

"If you want to meet me… come to the greenhouse tonight."

You hold the paper between your fingers, feeling a shiver run through your body.

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