The Unsent Love Letter

The gorgeous, broke guy I loved to torment is suddenly the long-lost heir I’m supposed to marry. Worried he’d want revenge, I looked up self-defense tutorials online. Instead, I stumbled upon a desperate post: [The person I’ve had a crush on for five years is about to become my fiancée. How do I call off the engagement without hurting her?] The comments were a sea of question marks. But a few people tried to help. [When you go to visit her family, bring a carton of milk and a giant variety pack of chips. I guarantee the wedding will be off.] The next day, my fiancé came to visit. His face was a mask of reluctance and resistance. But in his hands were a carton of milk and a jumbo snack pack.

1 Last night, my mom dropped two bombshells on me. First, my fiancé, Joe, was the wrong baby switched at birth; he wasn’t a true heir. Our engagement was off. Hearing that, I was so thrilled I practically reached for a string of firecrackers to celebrate. Joe and I had been mortal enemies since we were kids. The only way I’d ever be desperate to marry him is if killing your husband suddenly became legal. My mom just stared at me, speechless, before dropping the second piece of news. “The real heir happens to go to your university. His name is Ethan.” My smile vanished. I quietly put the imaginary firecrackers away. There was a simple reason for this. I have a peculiar little habit of enjoying the sight of beautiful men crying. And Ethan, with his delicate features and slightly long hair, had this fragile, distant air about him that was completely my type. What’s more, Ethan was a high school classmate of mine and Joe’s. Back then, I was too busy waging war with Joe to pay him much attention. It wasn’t until college that I realized such a prime specimen existed right under my nose. So, naturally, I used my money to mess with him—a lot. I’d slapped his face with a wad of cash, wrapped a designer tie around his neck and pulled, and even dragged him out of a lecture hall with over a hundred students. I’d done every rotten thing you could think of. But no matter what I did, he remained impassive, his eyes holding nothing but cold indifference when he looked at me. Thinking back on it now… Could he be one of those secretly dark types, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to unleash his revenge? The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. A shiver ran down my spine. Back in my room, I frantically searched for self-defense strategies. As I scrolled, a local help-wanted post caught my eye. [The person I’ve had a crush on for five years is about to become my fiancée. How do I call off the engagement without hurting her?] Everyone knows the best glow-up for a guy is a dose of insecurity, but this level of self-doubt was something else. I had to see what kind of person this was. I clicked on the post. Plenty of others shared my confusion. [Dude, your crush is becoming your fiancée and you want to call it off?] [The internet isn’t here for your weird flex, buddy. Stop showing off.] [I’m a peer counselor. If you have a reason you absolutely must end it, you can talk to me.] The original poster replied earnestly: [A crush is a one-person thing. Marriage is for two people who love each other. She doesn’t like me, she might even hate me. Calling it off is the best choice.] The comments section exploded. [THEN! MAKE! HER! LIKE! YOU!] [Your crush is finally walking toward you, and you turn and run? I’ve never seen logic like that before.] [I’m with the person above. Use this chance to get to know each other. It’s totally possible she’ll fall for you.] The poster replied: [Really?] A half-minute later: [This reply has been deleted.] He posted again: [I’m partially deaf. I got into a fight the summer after graduation and perforated my eardrum. My right ear still can’t hear anything. I’ll never be good enough for her. It’s better to just forget it.] A hush fell over the comments. After a long moment, a kind soul spoke up. [Look, the fact that he’s asking means his mind is made up. Stop messing with him. I’ll give some real advice. When you visit her family, bring a carton of milk and a giant snack pack. I guarantee that marriage will be dead on arrival.] The poster replied with a simple “Thanks” and never posted again. He probably actually went out to buy the milk.

2 Curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked on his profile. His avatar was a black-and-white selfie, but his face was almost entirely out of frame, showing only the outline of his ear. In the background, a few students were posing for a photo. Their school uniforms looked familiar, but they were too blurry to make out any faces. I scrolled down. His earliest post was from five years ago. [The recycling center near my house pays thirty cents a pound for paper and seventy cents for bottles. Does anyone know a place with better rates? I’m a high school freshman, I can make deliveries after school.] Some people replied with helpful suggestions. Others, of course, were snarky. [Your family is poor enough to be collecting trash, but you have money for a phone? Weird.] [Aren’t you afraid your classmates will laugh at you for collecting scrap at your age?] The poster replied with quiet dignity: [The phone was a broken one someone threw out. I fixed it myself, so it was cheap. My grandpa isn’t well, and having a phone makes it easier for him to contact me.] [There’s nothing to laugh about. I’m proud that I can help my grandpa get the most out of his hard work.] His reply reminded me of a classmate from high school. I think he came from a poor family, but he was incredibly smart. He’d beaten Joe on the entrance exams to become number one in our year. Joe, with his drop of cleverness, had walked around with his nose in the air since kindergarten, acting like he was the only genius on the planet. Every time exam results came out, he’d poke me in the head and laugh. “Idiot. How could you get that wrong?” This was the first time he’d ever been knocked down to second place. I was thrilled. Finally, I could poke him in the head. “Idiot. Looks like someone beat you after all.” Joe’s face darkened. He shoved past me without a word and stormed off. A few days later, he found me, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I found out the number one guy’s secret. Want to know what it is?” I put on my headphones and ignored him. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, yanked my headphones off, and leaned in close. “His family collects trash for a living.” I just found it bizarre. “So? What’s wrong with collecting scrap? It’s an honest living.” Joe rolled his eyes. “Forget it. It’s pointless explaining it to a moron like you.” He smirked. “Just wait and see.” At first, I didn’t know what he was planning. Then, over the next few days, a rumor started circulating through our class. The student who helped serve food in the cafeteria came from a family of trash collectors. People said he never showered before his shift, that the food he served was crawling with cockroaches and bugs. We were freshmen, an age where the smallest bit of gossip could cause a massive stir. It started with Joe refusing to line up at that student’s station. Soon, it spread to our entire class, then the entire year, and eventually, the whole school. The rumors got worse and worse. My deskmate told me that if things kept on like this, the school would probably stop letting him help in the cafeteria. He would lose his free lunch and the stipend he earned. This whole thing didn’t really have anything to do with me. But something about what Joe was doing just rubbed me the wrong way. And if he was going to be uncomfortable, I was going to make him uncomfortable too.

3 That day at lunch, I walked up to the only station in the cafeteria with no line. “Hey. How many meals do you have left?” The boy wore a hat and a mask, but his exposed eyes were filled with confusion. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I just handed him my meal card. “I’ll take everything you’ve got.” As I spoke, the cafeteria fell strangely silent. I pulled out the megaphone I’d brought with me. “This station is on me today. Anyone who wants to eat can come get a plate for free.” He didn’t ask any more questions. He took my card and quietly started serving the food. Vegetables, roasted duck with gravy, salted duck eggs with runny yolks. It all looked and smelled delicious. Where were the cockroaches and bugs? Even so, nobody came. I sighed in exasperation and grabbed a plate for myself. I started shoveling big spoonfuls into my mouth. I was halfway through when Joe walked up to me, a deep frown on his face. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. Then, his eyes shifted to the boy who was still silently serving food. He sneered. “Don’t tell me that coward asked you to come save him.” I looked at Joe, and every single thing about him annoyed me. I picked up my plate, now empty except for some leftover sauce, and shoved it right into his clean school uniform. “The only one with no guts here,” I said coldly, “is the one who gets jealous and plays these dirty little games.” I paid for everyone’s lunch at that station for a month. The line came back. After that, the memory gets hazy. I don’t even remember who that student was.

4 I kept scrolling through his profile. Besides the posts about recycling, there were a lot of secret diary entries about his crush. [She might be the bravest, most genuine person in the world.] [Turns out she sits right behind me. I never noticed before.] [My blood sugar was low, and she brought me afternoon tea. She said she was on a diet and couldn’t eat it. But I’m not an idiot. I know she was just trying to protect my pride. Thank you… really, thank you.] [That jerk made her angry again.] [I heard they have an engagement. It’s ridiculous. Who still has arranged marriages in this day and age?] [I know we’re from different worlds, and her kindness isn’t just for me. So, I don’t dare hope she’ll ever know how I feel. Just quietly holding onto this feeling is enough.] [But that idiot really doesn’t deserve her.] [Our teacher put us in a study group today. I’m so lucky. I can’t believe I get to be in the same group as her. But I can’t go easy on her just because I like her. I have to push her to study hard, so she can get good grades and have a bright future.] [The text was hard to memorize today, and she was so frustrated she started to cry. But I still didn’t give in. This chapter is really important; it’s always on the exams. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.] Reading that last one, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud on my bed. What a blockhead. Being that strict with the girl you like? No wonder he’s been crushing for years with no results. But… I think I was in a study group like that in high school, too. The first person I was paired with was this grim-faced guy. He made me read and do practice problems every single day. From the moment I woke up, it was all about studying. My time in that study group was the darkest period of my entire high school career. All I remember is crying over memorizing texts and wanting to weep while doing endless problem sets. I’ve even forgotten who that grim-faced guy was. I have to admit, though, my grades during that period were the best they’d ever been. After the groups were shuffled, I was never paired with him again, and my scores slowly started to slide. Luckily, I had a good foundation. Even with the slide, I still got into a top-tier university.

5 I didn’t have time to finish reading the rest of his posts. I fell asleep clutching my phone. Early the next morning, our housekeeper woke me up. She said the real heir from the Xie family had just arrived. Wait, that wasn’t right. The real heir from the Collins family was here. I got dressed and went downstairs, yawning. The first thing I saw was Ethan, sitting on the sofa. He was wearing that same white button-down shirt. The fabric was soft, but a little faded. He was thin, but with broad shoulders and a tall frame, he looked like a model in anything he wore. I found myself staring for a few seconds. Not because of him, exactly. But because of… the carton of milk and the jumbo snack pack sitting next to him. Last night’s post flashed through my mind. The coincidences piled up, forming a theory so wild I almost dismissed it myself. Just then, as if on cue, Ethan looked up. Our eyes met. His expression was as cold as ever. That deadpan, reluctant look. As much as I secretly loved it, it completely shattered my theory. Okay. I was overthinking it. There was no way he was the guy from the post last night. My mom heard me and turned around, beaming. She waved me over. “Sweetheart, you’re here! Look, isn’t Ethan so thoughtful? He even knew you liked this kind of drink and brought it especially for you.” At her words, both Ethan and I froze. My toes curled inside my slippers, and I was so mortified I wanted to turn and bolt. Mom was right. I’d loved sugary drinks and junk food since I was a kid. But to maintain my cool, sophisticated persona, I always acted like I was above such childish snacks in public. Besides my family, very few people knew. My mom, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just demolished her daughter’s carefully crafted image, happily went upstairs, claiming she wanted to give Ethan and me some time alone. In the vast living room, the atmosphere instantly became awkward. We just stared at each other. He finally broke the silence by opening the box, taking out a bottle of milk, and handing it to me. “You like this stuff?” My face fell. I snatched the bottle and took a huge, vengeful gulp. My heart was a wasteland of despair. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Don’t tell anyone… Please.” I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the icy mask on Ethan’s face seemed to melt a little. It looked like he was trying hard not to smile. “Is it good?” he asked. It was chocolate. It was actually fine. But I was stubborn. “It’s mediocre.” Ethan looked at me, a thoughtful expression on his face, and nodded. He didn’t stay long, failing to fulfill my mom’s hopes of us bonding. After just a few minutes, he was ready to leave. As I saw him to the door, he said softly, “See you at school tomorrow. I… have something I want to talk to you about.” School? Talk? Was he going to use my secret to blackmail me into calling off the wedding? Or was he planning to broadcast my embarrassing tastes to the whole world? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. I shot him a death glare and slammed the door shut.

6 My mood soured, I retreated to my room with a bag of chips and my phone. As luck would have it, the poster from yesterday had an update. [I went to visit today with the milk and the snack pack. My fiancée’s mother wasn’t put off at all. In fact, she seemed really happy.] The other users were baffled. [How is that possible?] [My guess is either the guy is a total smokeshow, or he pulled up in a Benz carrying the milk. We all know what mothers-in-law are really after.] When the poster saw that comment, he got angry for the first time. [I’m not handsome, and her family doesn’t need money. Please don’t project your cynical views onto a woman you’ve never met.] [It was just a coincidence. She happens to really like milk.] Thankfully, most users had their heads on straight. A flood of new replies quickly buried the nasty one. [Wow, that’s perfect then!] [Dude, this is fate helping you out!] Just as everyone was getting ready for a happily-ever-after, the poster spoke again. [But she really hates me. Because I was the one who gave it to her, she didn’t look happy when she drank it. She even said it tasted mediocre.] [I’ve decided I’m going to tell her I want to call off the engagement tomorrow, in person. That should make her happy, right?] The internet fell silent. I fell silent, too. On a strange impulse, I replied to his post: [What flavor did you bring her today?] He replied almost instantly: [Chocolate.] …This wasn’t right. This was way too much of a coincidence. Once is a coincidence. Twice, three times? My heart tightened. I opened his profile picture again, saved it, and sent it to a friend who was a genius at photo restoration. [You busy? Can you restore this photo to the highest possible quality?] [It’s a tough one. Might take three days.] [I’ll pay you eight thousand.] [Babe, give me thirty minutes. It’ll be ready~] She was fast. Exactly on time, she sent the restored photo back. Not only was the background crystal clear, but the colors had been brought back to life. I slowly zoomed in on the image.