Sophia sat in her room, the warm light of her bedside lamp throwing soft shadows across the walls. On her bed was a small box her mother had pulled out of the cupboard earlier that day, stuffed with old photo albums. At first, Sophia had just opened it out of boredom, but soon she was smiling as she flipped through the worn pages.
There was Andrew—messy hair sticking out in every direction, grin wide and crooked—standing beside her at the park. Another photo showed the two of them at the beach, hands covered in wet sand as they built lopsided sandcastles. And then there was a birthday party shot: Andrew holding up a slice of cake like he'd won something, while she was laughing so hard she looked like she might topple out of her chair.
Her chest felt weird as she looked at those frozen little pieces of time. Warm, but also confusing. Andrew had always been her friend—solid, dependable, someone who was just there. But now, something inside her was shifting, getting heavier and softer at the same time.
She brushed her fingertip over Andrew's face in the park photo. What is this feeling? she thought.
When dinner rolled around, she dragged herself downstairs, still half lost in those memories. Her mom noticed immediately.
"Sophia," her mother said, setting a bowl of soup in front of her, "you look far away. What's on your mind?"
Sophia forced a quick smile and shook her head. "Nothing, Mom. I'm fine."
It was an obvious lie, but her mom didn't push at the table. She just kept watching quietly with those sharp eyes of hers.
Later, when Sophia was back in her room, there was a soft knock at the door.
"May I come in?" her mother asked.
"Yes, Mom," Sophia said, sitting cross-legged on her bed.
Her mom walked in, gentle curiosity in her expression. "I can tell something's bothering you. You don't need to pretend with me. Is it school? A friend? Or… something else?"
Sophia hesitated. She wanted to deny it, to say no—but her heart gave her away.
"Mom," she started slowly, "how… how do you confess your feelings to someone?"
Her mom blinked, surprised, then a smile tugged at her lips. She sat down on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. "Confess your feelings? Oh my. So, my daughter's in love? Or is there someone you want to confess to?"
Sophia's face burned red. She shook her head so fast her hair fell into her eyes. "N-no! It's not like that. I just—" she stumbled over her words, trying to sound casual, "I heard people in class talking about it today, and it made me curious. Like… how did people do it in your time?"
Her mom chuckled softly, clearly not convinced but kind enough not to press harder. "In my time, letters were the usual way. We didn't have phones like you kids do now. A handwritten note could mean everything. But when it came to something as important as love… the only real way was to say it yourself. Loud, honest, clear. That way, even if the person didn't feel the same, you wouldn't regret keeping it bottled inside."
Sophia listened, her heart thudding hard. She pictured herself standing in front of Andrew, blurting it out. Just the thought made her stomach knot with both terror and excitement.
"Thanks, Mom," she whispered. "I think I get it now."
Her mom squeezed her hand gently. "Good. When your heart's ready, you'll know what to do."
That night, Sophia lay awake staring at the ceiling, her mom's words replaying over and over. Say it clear. Say it loud. Don't regret it.
By morning, she had made up her mind. She walked into school determined—today, she would confess to Andrew.
But when she entered the classroom, her confidence cracked. His desk was empty. Untouched.
She frowned, waiting, hoping he was just late. But as the first hour slipped by, his seat stayed vacant.
At lunch, she turned to Ryan. "Do you know where Andrew is? He didn't come to school today."
Ryan looked surprised. "No clue. He didn't mention anything. Maybe he's sick?"
Sophia's chest sank. She tried Grace next. "Grace, do you know? Did Andrew say anything to you?"
Grace's expression tightened. "No… I thought you'd know."
The two girls exchanged a worried glance.
Sophia's thoughts raced. She remembered Andrew's voice on the phone the other night—distant, thoughtful. He had asked her for help understanding Grace better. And now he wasn't here.
On the other side, Grace was quiet, lost in her own guilt. She remembered the night Andrew had walked her home after the amusement park. The way he had looked at her—like he was searching for something she never gave. Maybe holding back the truth had hurt him more than she realized.
Ryan, meanwhile, wasn't about to just sit around. Slinging his bag over his shoulder after school, he said, "I'm going to Andrew's house. Something doesn't feel right."
Sophia's eyes widened. "Wait—I'm coming too."
Grace hesitated, then nodded. "Me too. If something's wrong, we should all go."
The three of them walked together, each weighed down by their own thoughts. Sophia's heart pounded with the words she still wanted to say. Grace's mind churned with regret. And Ryan—steady as ever—just knew he had to check on his friend.
The streets grew quieter as they reached Andrew's neighborhood. The sun was sinking, washing the sky in orange and purple. Their footsteps sounded too loud in the still air.
Finally, Ryan stopped at Andrew's house. The curtains were drawn, the lights inside faint.
Sophia swallowed hard, palms sweaty. "Do you think… he's okay?"
Ryan raised his fist to knock.
But before he could touch the door, it creaked open—just a sliver, like someone had been waiting.
The three of them froze, wide-eyed.
And in that moment, none of them knew what waited on the other side.