The Secret I Wasn’t Ready to Tell

It started with a question.

A simple one.

Lena didn't mean for it to unravel everything.

She was just lying on Sophia's bed, scrolling through her phone, when she suddenly looked up and asked, "Do you love him?"

Sophia nearly choked on air.

"What?" she wheezed.

"You heard me," Lena said, watching her carefully. "Daniel."

Sophia swallowed hard. "Why would you say his name like that?"

"Because you say it like a prayer."

Sophia blinked. "What?"

Lena sat up, setting her phone aside. "You don't realize it, but when you talk about him — your voice changes. You soften. Like he's not just someone you like… but someone you've already lost."

"I haven't lost him," Sophia whispered. "I never had him."

There was a pause.

Then Lena asked the question again, quieter this time. "Do you love him?"

And this time, Sophia didn't lie.

"I think I have since I was twelve," she admitted, staring at her hands. "Before I even understood what love really meant."

Lena didn't laugh.

She didn't tease her.

Instead, she just sighed and pulled Sophia into a hug.

"Oh, Soph," she murmured. "You poor, doomed child."

Sophia groaned. "Thanks for the support."

"No problem."

They sat in silence for a moment — until Lena grinned.

"So… are we telling him or what?"

Sophia shot upright. "WHAT?!"

Lena shrugged. "You've been hiding it long enough. Maybe it's time he knew."

Sophia shook her head violently. "Nope. Absolutely not. He sees me as Nathan's little sister. That's all I'll ever be."

Lena smirked. "You sure about that?"

"Yes!"

"Okay," Lena said slowly. "But I saw the way he looked at you yesterday."

"He looked at me like I'd accidentally glued my hand to his backpack last year."

"No," Lena corrected. "He looked at you like he was trying not to notice something."

Sophia frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"Maybe not," Lena said, leaning back. "But people can only pretend not to see you for so long."

Sophia wanted to believe her.

God, did she want to believe her.

But Daniel had been looking at her for years.

And never once had he seen her the way she wanted him to.

Still, something inside her chest twisted at the thought.

What if Lena was right?

What if he was starting to notice?

---

Later that night, she found herself standing in front of the mirror, brushing her hair like it might somehow fix her heart.

Her phone buzzed.

Lena: You know, you could always tell him yourself.

Sophia: Are you insane?

Lena: Or maybe write him a poem.

Sophia: I'm going to kill you.

Lena: Or a song. A love ballad. Set it to piano music. Dramatic lighting. Tears.

Sophia: Please stop.

Lena: Or just blurt it out during dinner. Real emotional chaos.

Sophia: If you do that, I will haunt you forever.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

Daniel popped his head in, holding a plate of cookies and wearing that same, devastatingly kind smile.

"Hey, Soph," he said. "Wanna steal these before Nathan eats them all?"

She stared at him — at the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way his presence made her heart feel too big for her chest.

And suddenly, Lena's idea didn't seem that crazy.

Maybe she could tell him.

Maybe she should tell him.

Just not now.

Not like this.

Not while she was still wearing pajamas and licking cookie crumbs off her fingers.