The Secret and Its Stubborn Persistence

His perspective:

She's tough, a girl not just anyone can break. I address her as if she is a guy most of the time because I don't want awkwardness to come between us and besides, she likes it when I treat her like that. Lies, lies. All I hear from myself are lies. I am always trying to find a reason for all this feelings, I try to keep pent-up inside. I love her, I really do, but to get her to notice her feelings for me is the hardest thing I will ever do. I promised myself that I would not get in the way, I will not do anything to influence her decision. I am just relying on faith to send me a miracle, something, anything to make her notice that she is a girl, and I am a guy who loves her from top to bottom.

Maybe a little competition will do us some good, someone who could make her jealous. But I could not hurt her that way, I die a little inside just by the thought of her crying for any reason at all. But someday it might happen. Someone might tell her that she is the most beautiful girl in the world before I do, someone might hold her hand before I do, someone might kiss her before I do. But the thing I am most afraid of is someone who can make her smile like I do, someone might tell her he loves her before I do. The thought of her sharing those same feelings with some other guy leaves me gasping for air.

Ah, my selfishness is trying to get the better of me. I am now thinking of telling her that I see her not as a brother. There she stands at my room's door frame, with her hands covering her mouth and tears falling down from her eyes. My bad sense of sight might be the culprit this time, being that I am writing in a whiteboard, or my stupidness for writing her name all over the board, or maybe the only circled words in this rant. She is now walking towards me, bawling like a baby, the facade gone, and her gentle, delicate side exposed. I smile at her, only now realizing the traitor tears in my own eyes. "I love you," I whisper. She cries even more. I envelop her in my arms, saying sorry for impulsively saying that.

When I was about to take away what I said, she kissed me on the lips then she hid her face from me, all the while hugging me tighter. She didn't see the shock on my face, she didn't know the sheer bliss I am feeling right now. I kissed the top of her head, she replied with a murmured, "I love you too." If I knew it would feel this good, if only I knew she loved me too, I would have told her sooner. My thoughts are incoherent again; and with, "She loves me," replaying over and over my head, it might stay like that for a long time. Maybe just today, maybe for forever, or maybe just whenever I am with her. I don't mind. I don't mind at all.

Her perspective:

Awkward with emotions. Watching him try to overcome that will be fun. And how sweet and gentle he is when he finally let's go. It makes my heart melt. The first time he told me he loves me, the look in his eyes, and the truth ringing in every word. I can't begin to imagine the pressure he was under when he thought of saying that to me, the great amount of courage he mustered. And now, twenty years after that incident, we are celebrating our tenth anniversary.