Months later, I found out the truth.
I wasn't supposed to.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
One day, while I was cleaning out my old notebooks, a crumpled piece of paper fell out.
I almost threw it away.
But something stopped me.
I unfolded it.
And there, in familiar handwriting, were the words:
"Dear Rest—"
My breath caught.
I read the letter from start to finish.
And by the time I reached the last line— My hands were shaking.
"I don't know if you feel the same way, but… I like you. A lot. Probably more than I should."
I sat there for a long time, staring at those words.
I had been blind.
All this time, I thought Andrea had liked someone else.
But it was me.
It had always been me.
And I never saw it.
I never told her that I might've felt the same way, too.
And now— It was too late.