Poison of love

Jessica

My First Valentine's Day
I'm filled with mixed emotions: on one hand, excitement; on the other, a subtle anxiety. Mason and I will spend Valentine's Day together, and the thought that torments me is always the same: does Mason love me? He hasn't said it openly yet, while I... I'm undoubtedly in love with him. I'd like to confess it to him on this occasion. However, a lingering fear holds me back, not only because our connection has already deepened, but because this declaration would inevitably intensify everything. Afterward, there would be no more filters or defenses: I would show myself completely, without shame, ready to express what I feel.
I wake up with a smile on my face, still wrapped in the joy of that unique day spent together. His presence is like a source of light for me, and my heart seems to swell with happiness. I glance over at Leila's bed, but it's empty. I start to worry: she doesn't respond to my messages or calls.
Something is wrong, I'm sure of it. I feel that something bad has happened, but there's nothing I can do but wait for her to reach out.
As I get ready for class, I open the door to my room and find her standing there.
"Leila! Are you okay?" I ask instinctively, immediately embracing her. She has a devastated expression, her eyes dim, her gaze lost in the void. She doesn't answer right away. She steps in, and I close the door behind her.
"What happened? I was really worried about you," I say with concern.
She places her suitcase next to the bed and sits down, staring at the floor. I sit next to her.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you worry. It's been a tough few days. I needed to be alone, away from everything and everyone," she says with a trembling voice, on the verge of tears. I've never seen her this vulnerable. Something serious must have happened to bring her to this state.
"Did something bad happen?" I ask.
"I lost someone I cared about deeply," she confesses in a chilling tone as tears stream down her cheeks.
We sit in silence for a few minutes. Her tears fall more and more copiously, and my heart breaks seeing her like this. Instinctively, I hug her, and we cry together.

During class, I can't concentrate. My thoughts keep returning to Leila, and the idea of having left her alone in her room torments me. Her words echo in my head like an incessant refrain: "I lost someone I cared about deeply." I wonder if she's referring to the guy in the picture on the wall. She's never talked to me about a boyfriend or anyone special in her life, but maybe she decided to keep that part of herself private. As her friend, I know I shouldn't push her but simply wait for her to open up when she's ready. The only thing I can do is be there for her, offering comfort. I, too, know well the weight of loss and the profound pain it brings. At the end of class, my phone vibrates: it's a message from my mom. She officially invites me to her first exhibition. I can't believe it. Her long-held dream of finally displaying her paintings is about to come true.
"I'm so happy for you, Mom," I write back, with a smile I can't contain.
I can't wait to tell Mason the news. So, without hesitation, I run to the rugby field, where he's training. The field is unusually crowded: students watching the team, others taking advantage of the quiet to study in the distance. I stop in a corner to watch him. He's incredible in his role as captain, and the passion and dedication he puts into every movement are clear. I watch, fascinated, as he removes his helmet and approaches me with that smile that always makes my heart race.
"Hey, what a surprise to see you here!" he says, surprised but happy.
"Sorry for showing up unannounced," I say softly. "I wanted to tell you that on the 14th, my mom will have her first exhibition. I'd really love it if you'd come with me," I add, feeling my heart race as I anxiously await his response.
"Of course, I'll come," he replies, taking my hands in his and gently stroking them with his thumbs, a gesture full of endless sweetness.
"Does this mean you'll introduce me to your mother?" he continues with a smile that's both mischievous and tender.
"I guess so," I reply, feeling warmth rise to my cheeks, aware of the blush about to betray me.
"You're adorable when you blush," he says, and his penetrating gaze stirs me deeply. It's that way he looks at me that I love, a blend of intensity and affection that makes me feel special. But what I love even more is his natural sweetness, always present, whether we're alone or in front of others.