The scent of cinnamon and sugar always meant one thing: Amelia was back at it. Every morning, a perfectly wrapped pastry, sometimes a cookie, sometimes a muffin, would appear on Ethan's desk, accompanied by a folded note. It was a ritual they'd established in elementary school, when Ethan, with his mop of unruly brown hair and a smile that could melt glaciers, had captured Amelia's heart.



Through years of whispered crushes under the shade of the oak tree, through middle school dances where Ethan would always ask Amelia to slow dance, the ritual continued. Amelia's notes evolved from childish doodles to heartfelt poems, each one a testament to her unwavering affection.



Ethan, oblivious to the depth of Amelia's feelings, saw her as a dear friend. He appreciated her kindness, her baked goods, and her constant presence, but never saw her as anything more. He was too busy chasing the latest crush, the prettiest girl in class, the one who seemed to be the epitome of cool.



Then, high school arrived. Ethan, finally tall and athletic, was a popular guy. He started dating a girl named Chloe, a cheerleader with a dazzling smile and a laugh that echoed through the hallways. Amelia, quiet and shy, watched from a distance, a pang of sadness twisting in her chest.



The pastries continued, however, a silent testament to Amelia's loyalty. She'd even started adding a little extra cinnamon, a touch of sweetness, a silent plea for Ethan to notice. But he didn't. He was too caught up in his new love, too busy basking in the glow of Chloe's attention.



One day, the usual pastry was missing. Ethan, surprised, looked around for Amelia. She wasn't in her usual spot by the window, her head buried in a book. He went to her locker, hoping to find a note, but it was empty. Days turned into weeks, and still, no pastry, no note, no Amelia.



Ethan felt a strange emptiness. He missed her quiet presence, her shy smile, her cinnamon-scented treats. He missed her, but he didn't know why. He was happy with Chloe, wasn't he?



Then, one afternoon, he saw her. Amelia was sitting in the library, a book in her lap, her eyes fixed on a boy across the room. The boy was tall and handsome, with a smile that mirrored Ethan's. He was laughing, and Amelia's eyes were sparkling with a light Ethan had never seen before. It was the same light that used to shine in her eyes when she looked at him.



Ethan felt a jolt of recognition, a sudden understanding. He realized he'd been so focused on Chloe, so oblivious to Amelia's love, that he'd missed the most important thing: she was in love with him, and now, she was moving on. He felt a pang of regret, a twinge of guilt, and a sudden, overwhelming desire to tell her how he felt. But it was too late. Amelia was already looking away, her smile fading, her heart, it seemed, already belonging to someone else.