Letter The room was small, just large enough for four young men. Moonlight slipped through the window, casting pale shadows across the desk. Three of them slept soundly. Only Ilyos remained awake. Bent over the desk, he wrote without pause. But something felt wrong. With a frustrated sigh, he crumpled the paper and threw it toward the wastebasket—already overflowing with discarded pages. He reached for another sheet. After two lines, he stopped and reread what he had written: Perhaps I'll never give you this letter... But my heart refuses to be still. If only these words could reach you... He nearly crumpled it too. But instead, he set his pen aside and picked up a charcoal pencil. For three years, only one face had occupied his heart. He closed his eyes. She appeared before him—her jet-black hair, her emerald-green eyes that he had never dared to hold for more than a moment. He began to draw. Stroke by stroke, the empty page came alive with her likeness. He worked through the night, unaware of the hours passing. When he finally stopped, the clock read five in the morning. He studied the portrait, then carefully slipped it between the pages of one of the library books on his desk. --- By dawn, Ilyos had barely slept. His roommates stirred. "Do you have to start this early?" he mumbled. "Get up. First class is soon. Aren't you going?" Ilyos glanced at his phone and sighed. "I'm not going. I barely slept." "Suit yourself." One by one, his roommates left. One of them grabbed the library books from the desk and returned them—Ilyos didn't even notice. It was nearly noon when he woke. He washed his face and saw dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair a mess. He hadn't eaten since the night before. He grabbed a quick meal, then hurried to his desk. The books were gone. He searched the drawers, the shelves, every corner of the room. Nothing. Panic set in. Just then, his roommates returned. "My God, what happened here?" one of them asked. "The library books!" Ilyos cried. "Where are they?" "I returned them this morning," his roommate said casually. The color drained from Ilyos's face. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out. --- He burst into the library, breathless. The librarian pointed him toward the shelf where returned books waited. He hurried there, scanning one spine after another. Beside him, a girl selected a book from the same shelf. He found two of the three books. His trembling fingers flipped through their pages. Nothing. No drawing. No letter. The third book was missing. Then he froze. The young woman beside him was holding it. His eyes rose from the book to her face. Time stopped. It was her. The girl who had lived in his heart for three years. His heartbeat stumbled. He wanted to disappear—to pretend he'd come for any other reason. But it was too late. As she opened the book, a folded paper slipped to the floor. She picked it up and unfolded it. And forgot to breathe. It was her portrait. Drawn with astonishing care—the faint freckles, the soft lips, the emerald eyes. For several moments, she simply stared. Then she read the lines above the drawing: Perhaps I'll never give you this letter... But what can I do? My heart refuses to be silent. If only you could know what I've carried all these years... A warm blush spread across her cheeks. Something tender stirred inside her chest. She lifted her eyes and saw the young man standing there. Pale. Frozen. Unable to look away. She folded the letter carefully and stepped toward him. "Are you looking for this?" she asked softly. Ilyos swallowed. "...Yes." His voice barely escaped. Then his eyes met hers. A shy smile appeared—filled with relief, embarrassment, and three years of silence. He lowered his gaze and whispered: "Yes... but I think it has already found the person it was meant for." Silence settled between them. Not awkward, but full—the kind that says everything words cannot. Outside the library windows, afternoon sunlight spilled across the campus.