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Chapter 57 - Chapter 57: Beneath the Cinnamon Silence

"Not all storms announce themselves with thunder —

some arrive in whispers,

tied up in ribbons and trust."

Dear Diary,

Today tasted like cinnamon and suspicion.

I watched him differently — not because I wanted to,

but because that letter won't stop echoing in my chest.

He met me outside school again,

backpack slung like a secret over his shoulder,

grin soft as ever,

eyes gentle as dusk.

And yet…

somewhere behind that warmth,

I saw it:

a flicker.

A falter.

A flash of something unspoken.

---

We went to the park after school.

Sat beneath our usual tree,

the one with bark like wrinkled poetry

and leaves that fall like quiet confessions.

I told him about Jia's drama with her science partner.

He laughed the way he always does —

from the chest, but with eyes that ask if you're okay too.

Then, I tested the waters.

> "Did you move here for school?" I asked, eyes on the clouds.

"Or was it something else?"

There was a pause.

A soft inhale.

Then:

> "A bit of both," he said.

"I needed… a fresh start."

Fresh start.

What kind of start needs warning letters?

But I didn't push.

I just nodded.

Pretended that was enough.

---

On the way home, he told me about his old town.

Bits and pieces — a teacher he liked, a bakery that made terrible doughnuts, a dog he used to feed.

But every story felt… rehearsed.

Like an actor hitting his lines perfectly,

but the emotion didn't quite match.

And that's when I noticed something I hadn't before:

his phone.

Always off.

Always tucked away.

Always silent.

---

Tonight, I reread the letter again.

"He isn't who you think he is."

Then who is he?

A boy who bakes with me,

walks me home in the rain,

remembers how I take my tea?

Or someone else?

---

The cupcakes from yesterday still sit on the counter.

Untouched.

Cracked on top.

Just like the picture in my head of him —

a little too perfect.

A little too quiet.

And maybe not the whole truth.

Tomorrow, I'll ask Jia.

She's good at finding things people don't want found.

And maybe — just maybe —

the truth is something I'm strong enough to hear.

Goodnight, Diary.

Wish me clarity.

Wunor 🍂📱🌘

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