Eric held the paper like it was something precious, not fragile. His smile was small, helpless.

“Okay… just write what you feel,” he murmured, cheeks already warm.

He wrote:

“Neo, every time you walk into the room…”

He read it softly, and a dreamy sigh escaped him before he could stop it.

“Yeah… because you do light it up,” he admitted to no one, blushing harder.

He tried another line.

“I think you’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever—”

He pressed the pen to his lips, eyes shining.

“…God, it’s true,” he whispered, almost giddy. “She is.”

But when he imagined Neo actually reading it — standing tall, confident, looking at him with those sharp, warm eyes — his heart did a somersault so intense he had to sit back.

He laughed under his breath, overwhelmed.

“I’m gone. I’m absolutely gone for her.”

He looked at the letter again. It was honest. Maybe too honest.

With a fond, almost tender sigh, he folded the paper… then shook his head and tore it gently.

“Not like this,” he said softly. “She deserves a better version of me saying it.”

He tossed the pieces away, still smiling like a fool in love.

“Someday, Neo. And when I tell you… it’s going to be perfect.”