Amira wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but something felt… off.
Jayden hadn't looked her way once that day. Not in English. Not in the hallway. Not even in that easy, casual way he used to—like he was searching without saying it out loud.
And when she picked up the journal, it was there.
But there was no new message.
Just a blank page.
For the first time since they started, he hadn't written back.
She sat with the notebook open on her lap, staring at it like it had betrayed her.
Had she said too much in her last letter? Had the "falling" part scared him?
Was this whole thing—everything they built—just a game to him?
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly. Not here. Not at school.
She picked up her pencil with a quiet ache and began to write:
" I noticed you didn't write today.
Maybe you're busy. Or maybe… you've changed your mind about all of this.
I get it. Feelings are messy. Anonymous ones are worse.
But it hurts. More than I expected.
So I guess this is me being the brave one first:
If this is over, just let me know.
But if it's not… I need to hear from you. Even just one word.
— Still me. But not sure for how long."
---
Jayden sat in his room, notebook in his lap, guilt weighing down on him like bricks.
He hadn't written anything yesterday—not because he wanted to stop, but because he'd heard something that sent doubt crawling into his chest.
He'd overheard two girls in the hallway—one of them saying Amira was texting some guy from another school. That she was "probably just bored here."
He didn't know if it was true. But it got to him.
Now, reading her message, the pit in his stomach dropped lower.
She thought he was gone. She thought he was done.
He grabbed his pen, flipped the page, and wrote faster than he ever had before:
" No. It's not over.
I didn't write yesterday because I'm a coward.
I let someone else's words get into my head and shake everything I know about you. And the truth is, I don't even KNOW you—not really—but what I feel? It's mine. It's real. And it's yours.
I'm sorry I made you feel abandoned. That's the last thing I ever wanted.
Don't give up on me. Please.
Because you? You've become the best part of my days.
— The boy who's falling harder than he thought possible"
---
The next day, Amira opened the notebook before she even sat down.
As she read his words, her chest swelled, eyes stinging—but not from sadness this time.
From relief.
From hope.
She hugged the journal close, a slow smile stretching across her lips.
She hadn't lost him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
And in that quiet second, she made herself a promise:
She would not be afraid to fall.