The Quiet Girl’s Secret

(Sam's POV)

There was another pink envelope in my locker.

Same spot. Same folding.Same soft shade of blush that made it stand out like a secret.

I stared at it for a second longer than I should have — like maybe it would explain itself if I looked hard enough.It didn't.

It just sat there. Quiet. Waiting. Like it had every right to.

I hadn't been expecting another one.

Part of me thought maybe the first was a fluke — a one-time overspill of someone's emotions, something they regretted and decided to never repeat.

But here it was again. Neatly placed. Deliberate.

Which meant… this was a thing now.

Someone was writing to me.

Not once. Not accidentally.

On purpose.

The hallway was loud, usual morning chaos.Someone was throwing a football near the lockers (why), someone else was fake-laughing loud enough to rattle teeth. I tuned all of it out.

I slipped the envelope into my hoodie pocket without opening it.

Not yet.

I don't know why I waited.Maybe because I knew once I opened it, I couldn't pretend it didn't affect me.

And I knew it would affect me.

Because the first one hadn't left my mind in days.

Becky waved at me from down the corridor. I nodded.Alex called my name and jogged up beside me with an unopened bottle of iced coffee. He handed it to me without asking if I wanted it.

"You look like you didn't sleep again."

"Didn't," I said.

"Letter stuff?"

I gave him a side-eye.

"What?" he said innocently. "I'm invested in the drama now. Let me live."

I didn't answer.

Mostly because I hadn't told him there was a second one yet.

I opened the new letter during break.

Back corner of the library. Same chair I always picked. Window to my right, dusty radiator to my left.

My fingers trembled more than I'd like to admit.

You probably think I'm weird.Or obsessive.But the truth is… this isn't some passing crush. I didn't fall for your face, or your walk, or the way people talk about you like you're some school-wide myth.It was the way you were quiet when it mattered. The way you didn't interrupt. The way you showed up for things no one noticed.It was the things that didn't shout. That's what stayed with me.

I know you probably won't ever feel the same.That's okay.I just wanted you to know someone is out here… seeing you.

I stared at the last word: seeing.

I'd spent most of the year surrounded by people — students, teammates, teachers, Alex — and somehow, still felt like no one really saw anything beyond the idea of me.

But this?

This didn't feel like a projection.

It felt like honesty.

And that scared the hell out of me.

Because what do you do when a stranger tells you something true about yourself — something even your so-called friends missed?

What do you do when a stranger tells you they've seen you… and they're not asking for anything in return?

I folded the letter back into the envelope like it was something sacred.My pulse was still high.

I don't remember much of the next class. I sat through math half-aware, biting the inside of my cheek, thoughts running in circles.

Who was it?

Why me?

Why now?

Why does it feel like they know me better than anyone else?

"After school, I stayed behind in the gym for no reason.The court was empty — just echoes and the faint squeak of someone bouncing a ball down the hall.I sat on the bleachers, legs stretched out, hoodie pulled over my knees. Not thinking about practice. Not thinking about homework.Just... thinking about them."

Alex found me there.

"Okay, so what's the damage?"

"No damage."

"You're lying. You only sit in the bleachers when you're emotionally buffering."

I gave him a look. "I like the sun."

"You hate the sun."

"Shut up."

He flopped down beside me and pulled out his phone. "You're twitchier than usual."

"There's another letter," I said finally.

He froze. "What."

"Today. In my locker again."

He blinked. "Okay, plot twist."

"I haven't told anyone else."

Alex whistled low. "So… we have a real admirer situation."

"I don't think it's just admiration."

He tilted his head. "Meaning?"

"It doesn't feel like someone who wants attention. It feels like they've been holding this in for a long time."

Alex was quiet for once. Then, "You sound like you… care."

I didn't answer.Because I did.And I wasn't ready to say that out loud yet.

That night, I opened both letters again.Set them side by side on my desk like puzzle pieces.

Same handwriting. Same careful tone.

Who are you?

Someone in my class?Someone who passes me in the hallway?Someone I've never even spoken to?

My mind flipped through people like flashcards —Names, faces, voices.

None of them fit.None of them felt like this.

For the first time in a long time, I looked at myself in the mirror — really looked. Not to fix my hair or wipe off sweat from practice.

Just… to see what they were seeing.

The girl who shows up for things.The girl who doesn't interrupt.The girl who carries quiet like it's armor.

I didn't know I'd been carrying all that.

But someone else did.

[End of Chapter 9]

This wasn't just a fan. This was someone who saw what I hid — and wrote it down like it meant something.