To make sense of it, she did what any overwhelmed nursing student would do.
She called in her best friend.
Kara sprawled across Lianne's bed like it was her personal therapy couch, munching on chips while scrolling through her phone. "Okay, so let's recap. Creepy-but-cute letter-writer knows your handwriting, copies it, hides letters in your stuff, and signs them with a C."
Lianne nodded, hugging her knees. "Yeah."
"And you think it's Callan."
"I feel like it's him. But I don't know."
Kara raised a brow. "So what do we do?"
Lianne glanced down at the notebook in her lap - she had scribbled a list of names, each one more confusing than the last.
1. Callan - The Quiet One.
Pros: Shy, always nearby, initials match.
Cons: Has never shown actual proof. Could just be a coincidence.
2. Marco - The Tease.
Pros: Flirty, confident, once said he liked her handwriting.
Cons: Would never go to such subtle lengths. Too loud for this.
3. Ian - The Library Assistant.
Pros: Always gives her the best seat. Knows her schedule.
Cons: Too chill. More likely to recommend a book than write a letter.
4. Miggy - The Friendly Poet.
Pros: Loves quotes. Posts a lot of emotional stuff online.
Cons: Shares too much. If he were the letter-writer, he'd have posted it by now.
Kara peered over her shoulder. "Okay, Ian's too lazy, Marco's too proud, and Miggy's too obvious. That leaves... Callan."
Lianne groaned. "But I can't ask him!"
"Why not?"
"Because what if it's not him? Or worse - what if it is him, and he freaks out because I know?"
Kara rolled her eyes. "Girl, he's writing you love letters in your own handwriting. If anyone should be nervous, it's him."
Lianne sighed, pressing her forehead to her hands. "Why does this feel like a movie plot? Why couldn't I just fall for a guy the normal way?"
"Because you're not normal. You're poetic and dramatic and have a thing for people who whisper with their eyes."
That made her laugh - and maybe that was what she needed right then. A moment to breathe. To laugh about it. But deep inside, her stomach twisted with something she couldn't quite name.
Hope?
Fear?
Both?
That night, after Kara left, Lianne sat at her desk and pulled out an old notebook. She flipped through the pages - past pharmacology notes, blood pressure charts, and case study reflections - until she found the blank space she needed.
And then, she started writing.
"To whoever you are - I think I know. But I don't want to ruin the magic by guessing wrong. So I'm giving you a chance to tell me. One chance. One truth. I'll be at the old library wing after class tomorrow. No one else. Just come. Or don't. But I'll be waiting."
She tore the note gently and slid it into the copy of Essentials of Clinical Pharmacology - the book where it all began.