Chapter 7: Brave Enough for Love

One day, I happened to see Jake's phone wallpaper—it was a secret photo of the two of us.

He tried to hide his phone, but I caught a glimpse—a photo of me, head down, scribbling in my notebook, with Jake in the background, grinning like a fool.

A few days before the SAT, I was the last one in class, still studying. The stars were so bright that night, and the only sound in the classroom was my pen scratching on paper. Everyone believed I could do it, but I never let myself relax.

I remembered the way the classroom glowed under the old fluorescent lights, my books spread out across the desk. I was so focused, I didn’t notice anything else.

What I didn't know was that, while I was buried in my work, Jake stood outside my classroom window, wearing his red No. 9 basketball jersey, cradling his ball, and took a photo with me in the background.

He must have stood there for a while, just watching. I wondered what he was thinking—if he was cheering me on in his own quiet way.

I never looked up, so I didn't know he was smiling at the camera, flashing a peace sign. Turns out, we did have a photo together—taken the day before the big test.

I found it on his phone months later, and for the first time, I realized we’d always been together, even when we were apart. Funny how you can miss something right in front of you.

In high school, love always seemed so cautious. Back then, getting into college felt like the most important thing in the world.

We tiptoed around our feelings, afraid to risk everything for something so uncertain. But looking back, I wish I’d been braver.

My youth was buried in books. Those stacks of practice problems were my whole life.

I spent so many nights hunched over my desk, chasing perfection. But now, I realize I missed out on so much more.

Everyone said I was well-behaved. My childhood didn't allow me to be otherwise. Unloved by my father, I could only pretend to be obedient, hoping for the affection I'd never had.

I learned to keep my head down, to follow the rules, to never make waves. But inside, I was always yearning for something more.

I don't want to complain about life's unfairness. Some people are born loved—maybe because they suffered in a past life, so this time, the world is here to heal them.

I like to think that someday, I’ll get my turn. For now, I’m grateful for every small happiness I find.

I never got to experience the wild, rebellious youth everyone talks about. But in those hard-working years, the evening breeze was romantic, and the cicadas sang all through June.

There was beauty in the ordinary—the sound of sneakers on pavement, the smell of fresh-cut grass, the promise of a new day.

In my careful, by-the-book school days, Jake was my unexpected gift.

He brought color to my world, laughter to my silence, and hope to my heart. I’ll always be grateful for that.

But at seventeen, I didn't have the courage to answer that honest, clumsy love. Behind my gentle front was an unyielding resolve. Sometimes I wish I'd been braver—maybe things would be different now.

Jake's hand in mine was sweaty—he, too, could get nervous.

We walked together under the streetlights, our fingers entwined. For the first time, I felt truly seen.

The wind kept blowing through my hair. I forgot to tell you—under that blazing sun, in the prime of youth, I snuck so many glances your way, pretending it was just by chance. Sunlight on my skin, your name in my heart.

Every time our eyes met, my heart fluttered a thousand times. Your name lingered on my lips, but I never called out to you.

But fate doesn't lie—it's true. If you long for someone long enough, you'll meet again.

A boy's love is always honest. In every careful glance, there was a love so bright it almost hurt.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

At least, I hope so.