The room was silent, soaked in the deep blue of midnight. Only the soft glow of the tiny lamp on my desk lit the space, a warm, trembling circle of light in the darkness.
Everyone in the house had gone to sleep.
Except me.
My fingers hovered over the typewriter, the paper already waiting — blank, accusing, demanding.
I shouldn't be doing this. I knew I shouldn't.
But my heart refused to listen to reason.
Every night, after the world quieted and Akira's footsteps disappeared into the far end of the base… I found myself sitting here again.
Writing to him.
Letters I would never give.
Letters he would never read.
Letters I prayed he would never find.
Tonight was no different… except my hands were shaking more than usual.
I took a slow breath… then typed:
"Dear Akira,Today you smiled. And I don't know why it felt like sunlight through a locked window…"
The words spilled out of me — the fears I couldn't say, the gratitude I didn't understand, the warmth I didn't deserve.
I didn't notice the door open.
Didn't notice the quiet footsteps behind me.
Didn't notice anyone until a voice — soft, stunned, a little amused — cut through the silence.
"Oh… my… God."
My entire body froze.
I turned slowly.
Pearl stood there, hair messy from sleep, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder…
…and one of my folded letters in her hand.
The one I'd written last night. The one I forgot to hide.
Her eyes widened as she read the first lines.
Then she looked at me.
Then at the letter again.
Then back at me.
A slow, wicked smile began forming on her lips.
"Ohhhhhh," she whispered, stepping into the room, closing the door behind her with a little click."So this is what you do at night."
My throat dried instantly.
"I— it's not— I was just—"
Pearl held up the letter like evidence in a court case."My dear, this is not 'just writing.' This is full-core, heart-melting, soul-bleeding confession material."
Heat rushed to my face, burning.
"I wasn't going to give it to him," I whispered desperately.
Pearl snorted."You think I don't know? You think I don't see the way you look at him and then pretend you don't?"
She walked closer. Her eyes softened with a mixture of mischief and genuine understanding.
"He scares you…" she said. "But he also makes you feel safe."
I couldn't deny it.Not to myself. Not to her.
Pearl gently placed the letter on the table, then leaned in closer.
"Listen," she whispered, "Akira might be strong, might be strict, might be cold sometimes… but he's not blind."
My heart skipped.
"What do you mean?"
Pearl tapped the letter lightly."You're not the only one who feels something."
My breath caught.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispered with a grin. "I'm his sister. I notice everything."
She straightened the papers on my desk like she was tidying the scene of a crime.
Then she added softly:
"I'm not going to tell him."
Relief washed over me so fast I almost collapsed.
"But," Pearl continued, a slow smile forming again, "only if you promise me one thing."
I looked up, confused.
"What thing?"
Pearl leaned forward, eyes sparkling with wicked delight.
"When the day comes that he realizes what's in your heart…"she whispered,"…you let me watch his face. It will be priceless."
I couldn't help it.
I laughed — quietly, shyly, helplessly.
Pearl winked.
"Now hide these damn letters better. Akira has the emotional intelligence of a brick, but still — let's not risk it."
She slipped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar…
…and leaving my heart beating far too fast.
I stared at the half-typed letter in the typewriter.
The night suddenly felt warmer.
And far more dangerous.