The night had been electric, every moment in the meadow in Ivora etched into my memory with a clarity I had never known. Under the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle murmur of the spring festival in the background, I had finally managed to speak the words I had kept hidden in my heart: "Alexander, I… I like you."
The confession hung in the air like a fragile secret. For a heartbeat, everything had seemed to pause—the gentle rustle of the wind, the soft chirp of crickets, the quiet breath of the night. But almost as soon as the words left my lips, panic surged through me. I felt foolish, vulnerable, and suddenly terrified of the consequences of exposing my true feelings. Without thinking, I turned on my heel and began to run, desperate to escape the intensity of the moment.
