Aleah's POV
I stepped out of the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind me like the closing of a chapter I wasn't ready to reread. My heart still thudded with a strange mix of fear and something else — something like awe.
Mysterio. That was the name I gave him, silently. The boy in the hoodie who drifted through my life like a shadow I couldn't chase. He felt like a guardian demon — always there, watching from the edges, and I was too scared to meet his eyes.
That day, I knew exactly what I wanted. Not comfort. Not answers. But to be like him. Untouchable. Unseen. Untethered.
Walking past Ivy and Yasmin in the hallway, I heard Ivy's voice call out, "Aleah!" but I didn't stop. I didn't even glance back. My feet kept moving forward, carrying me away from their laughter, their light, their shared world.
In class, I slid into the back row, the usual clamor fading around me. I pulled out my notebook and let my pen move on its own, like a secret unlocked.
The letter I wrote wasn't for Ivy or Yasmin. It was for Mysterio.
Dear Mysterio,
You don't know me — not really.
I see you lurking in shadows, like you own all the secrets this school tries to hide.
You don't say much, but somehow you say enough.
I hate you for being so cold, so distant, like a ghost I keep trying to touch but never can.
And yet... maybe I hate myself more.
Because when I see you, I don't just see a stranger.
I see a version of myself I'm too scared to become — or maybe, the version I want to be.
So I write this letter because it's easier than saying it out loud:
I don't want you to disappear.
Not yet.
— Aleah
I folded the page carefully and tucked it away like a secret promise to myself — a tether to the mysterious boy who held a piece of my unraveling heart.