Love?

Dear diary

It was one of those chilly autumn mornings on campus, the kind that makes you want to curl up with a book and forget about everything else. I was walking, head down, thinking about the midterm I had in two days, when—bam—I walked right into someone.

“Oh!” I stepped back, eyes widening. She was standing there, a look of surprise in her eyes, which were somehow both soft and bright. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, and she wore this big, cozy sweater that made her look like she’d just walked out of a daydream.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I stammered, heat creeping up my cheeks.

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, I think that one was on me.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She had this look, like she was trying to hold back a laugh, and I could feel myself getting pulled in. “Well... how about I make it up to you? Coffee?”

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. “I’d like that.”

From there, everything just clicked. That coffee turned into late-night study sessions, hours-long conversations, and all these little moments that felt so natural—like we’d known each other for years. Her name was Lily, and there was something magnetic about her. She always knew just what to say to make me laugh, to make me feel like I could be completely myself.

About a month in, she asked me to come over and meet her parents. We’d talked so much about each other’s families, it felt like the right next step. Her parents were welcoming, sweet in that familiar way that made me feel at home. Dinner was warm, relaxed, and afterward, Lily sent me upstairs to wash up.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I noticed a room down the hall with a cracked door. It was pink and decorated with posters and stuffed animals—clearly her old room. Curiosity got the best of me, so I drifted over and stepped inside.

The place was like a time capsule, full of childhood memories—pictures, trophies, old journals. On her desk was an old, worn diary. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I flipped it open to the first page.

The early entries were what I expected: little snippets about high school, friends, and daydreams about some guy she liked. But as I kept reading, something shifted. The tone of the writing changed, growing... obsessive. I skimmed the pages, feeling a prickling at the back of my neck. She wrote about a boy—"Sam"—and how she was drawn to him, how she'd watch him from afar and dream of the day they’d be together.

I felt a jolt of confusion. Could she be talking about me?

The entries grew darker, talking about how she’d followed him, even researched everything about him. She described a plan—a plan to transfer colleges, to “cross paths” with him, to make him hers forever.

My heart was pounding as I flipped through the pages. It was like watching my life unfold from her perspective, only it was stranger, more intense than I could have imagined. I dropped the diary, feeling a chill seep into my bones.

Just then, I heard a voice behind me. “Find anything interesting?”

I whirled around. Lily was standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on me with a slight, unreadable smile. My stomach twisted, and I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Just... looking around.”

She walked closer, her eyes never leaving mine.

Lily stepped into the room, and the soft click of the door shutting behind her sent a shiver down my spine. Her eyes, which I’d always found warm, now seemed darker, more intense as they locked onto mine. She moved slowly, like a cat cornering its prey, closing the distance between us.