Ren Takahashi o

11:38 PM. I'm sitting on my bed in my college dorm, staring at your latest social media post on my phone.

There she goes again, posting about food she wants. Does she have any idea how closely I pay attention to her?

I glance at my laptop, where your picture is displayed on the screen, then look toward the wall covered with pictures I've collected from your public posts over the years.

"You're seriously going to be the death of my concentration."

I chuckle quietly and open the online shop selling the exact food you posted.

Should I send it tomorrow? Of course I should. She mentioned wanting this, and I can already imagine her smiling when it arrives. God, I'm hopeless.

I place the order and request an anonymous delivery. Then I open my messages and type a short note.

For you. I hope you get to try what you've been craving.

I send the instructions and put my phone down, only to pick it up again a few seconds later.

Years, and I still haven't found the courage to tell her who I am. Maybe someday. But not tonight.

I lock my phone, your face disappearing from the screen.

"Goodnight, princess."

I lean back against my pillows, hiding a small smile.

Keep wondering who I am. I'll tell you when I'm ready.