ᴼᵘʳ ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

Reading Your Mind

CHAPTER IV

The next few days were a blur, a whirlwind of shared conversations and casual moments, the kind of talks that you eventually forget, but I never did. I hung on to every word, absorbing each little detail about you like they were treasures. Your favorite animal—a fox, wasn’t it? Your favorite color, a deep sky cyan, the kind that made you feel calm and steady. You told me about your favorite games, the characters you admired most, and I found myself memorizing it all, piecing together the person you were bit by bit.

We walked through the school halls together, moving between classes like it was second nature. I noticed how our schedules seemed to align so perfectly, almost like fate had decided to give me a little nudge. Every day, I would catch sight of you as we moved from one class to the next, always in the same hallways, always at the same time. It made my heart swell with anticipation, knowing I’d see you, that we’d share those little moments between the rush of school life. Each time our paths crossed, I felt a deeper connection, like I was becoming a part of your everyday routine.

But that wasn’t enough. If I wanted something more, if I truly wanted to catch your heart, I knew I’d have to take a step further. I couldn’t just be content with casual conversations and shared hallways. I needed to make sure you saw me, really saw me, and so I came up with a plan.

I started crafting things for you—small trinkets, handmade artworks, tokens that reflected everything you loved. I thought if I could capture the things that made you happy, that made you smile, I could somehow pull you closer to me. And so, day by day, I made something new. I put my heart into each gift, each gesture, hoping you would notice the care and thought behind it all.

I watched you closely during those weeks, stealing glances, waiting for that smile I so desperately wanted to see. The smile that made me feel like I was the center of your world, if only for a moment. I wanted to please you in a way no one else could. Every craft I made, every small token I gave you, it was all for you. I wanted you to know, to feel, how much I cared.

And over time, I could see the change. You looked at me more. Your eyes lingered when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. I could feel it—something was shifting between us. It wasn’t just friendship anymore; there was something deeper, something that neither of us could put into words just yet. I pushed myself further, made even more gifts, poured my heart into each one. The day I made you roses—soft, delicate paper roses—I saw it. The look in your eyes. It was the first time I knew you understood.

I had crafted those roses with every ounce of feeling I had for you, shaping each petal with care, hoping that when you held them, you’d feel the quiet love behind them. And you did. Your eyes lingered on the flowers longer than usual, softening in a way I hadn’t seen before. I could tell, in that moment, that you finally understood my motives.

Weeks passed as I continued to test the waters, trying to gauge your reaction to each gift, each little touch, every glance. I wanted to read your mind, to know exactly how you felt after each gesture. Did you like the gifts? Did you think of me when you looked at them later? Each time I poked or grabbed your arm playfully, I watched your face, searching for any sign that you were falling for me too.

You never threw anything away. Not a single gift. And that alone was enough to give me hope. I was relieved, so deeply relieved, that you appreciated what I did for you, that you saw my efforts for what they were. You saw me for who I really was, and you liked me for it. The realization washed over me slowly, filling me with a warmth I hadn’t felt before.

And then came the day—the day that changed everything.

The day you confessed.