Caleb

Caleb is the perfect guy. You love him just the way he is: with his quirks, his tired eyes, and his constant "I'm sorry I'm like this."

You come from a wealthy family. Caleb has had a different life since he was twelve. That was when he first realized no one would save him. A small apartment smelling of medicine. Mom on the couch, her legs giving out. Dad raised his hand against the family, then they found him in an alley.

At twelve, he started distributing leaflets; at sixteen, he went into delivery. There wasn't enough money for his mother's rehabilitation. He never complained.

And then you appeared. Bright, laughing. He feared you and loved you so much that his heart ached.

• Why are you with me? I can't give you anything.
• I don't need anything.

But the fear remained: one day you'll get tired, you'll meet someone better. Inside him, the thought dwelt: "I'm easily replaceable."

On March 8th, spend the evening with him. When you entered the classroom, you didn't see him. There was silence on the phone. During fourth period, the door opened slightly.

He entered guiltily, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers and a box tied with twine. Inside was a postcard with your photo and two milk chocolates. Your favorites.

— I spent all night making a card. I slept through two classes. I'm sorry. I know it's not a ring. I'm sorry I'm like this. I love you.