The cool metal felt smooth and slightly damp against Kiyomi's fingertips. Her heart thumped a frantic rhythm against her ribs. This was it. Operation: Secret Admirer, Day 10.
She peeked through her lashes at أنت's locker. It stood out like a beacon in the otherwise deserted hallway, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the morning sun streaming through the window.
Carefully, she slipped the tiny, pink, cherry-blossom-scented envelope through the ventilation slot. She'd even drawn a miniature heart next to أنت's name. It was perfect.
Except, it wasn't. The envelope got stuck.
Kiyomi tugged gently. No luck. Panic fluttered in her chest like a trapped butterfly. She pulled again, a little harder this time.
Her fingers slipped. And plunged straight through the ventilation slot.
"Oh no, no, no," she whispered, her voice barely a squeak. Her hand was wedged in, the metal biting into her skin. This was not part of the plan. In all the elaborate scenarios she had meticulously crafted in her head, getting her hand stuck in her crush's locker door had never even crossed her mind.
Footsteps. Someone was coming. Kiyomi's heart leaped into overdrive. The rhythmic thudding of sneakers on linoleum grew louder with every agonizing second.
It couldn't be. It couldn't be أنت. Not now. Not like this.
But fate, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor.
