Part 2Miu Miu And Mistaken Love

The bullet comments flared up again, defensive of Violet:

Why is she being so cold? Violet did not do it on purpose.

But this time, a solitary voice spoke up for me:

Let me put on some armor before I speak, but I have to be fair to the sister here. Violet might not have meant to, but her actions caused Austin to confess to the wrong person. Watching your three-year crush confess to your own sister is a nightmare for any teenage girl. It is completely normal that she cannot bring herself to smile.

One by one, the lights in the house went out. The living room, our parents' bedroom, and Violet's room fell dark.

Only after I clicked off my desk lamp did the darkness swallow me completely. The blue light of my phone screen reflected off the tears dampening my cheeks.

Austin and I had met through an online film forum. He had posted a query:

Can anyone help me find a movie? I only remember one scene set in a dimly lit library. The male lead is leaning against a bookshelf, reading a book.

I had stumbled across the post during my lunch break and left a brief reply:

It sounds like Love Letter by Shunji Iwai.

When I reopened the app later, I found he had left dozen of thank-you messages and had even tried to send me a digital tip.

I was quite active on the forum back then, using a profile picture of an apple and helping users identify obscure films for free. But Austin still sent me a private message, explaining that the movie was his late mother’s absolute favorite. He remembered her watching it repeatedly when he was a child, but he had never been able to recall the title. He insisted on finding a way to show his gratitude.

Eventually, we exchanged contact details.

I was a quiet, reserved person, but Austin’s warmth was like a constant sun. He quietly monitored every thread I commented on, occasionally sending me silly emojis of clumsy golden retrievers, joking about how he had tried to search for a film as fast as he could but was still a few seconds slower than me.

He eventually noticed that my profile picture and username were both related to apples. He asked if it was my favorite fruit.

My favorite artist is Shiina Ringo, I had replied. And Ringo means apple in Japanese.

That was the first time I had initiated a personal detail. The moment I hit send, I flipped my phone face down on the desk, my heart racing.

I wrote in my diary that night: Revealing your personal tastes to someone is far more terrifying than any spam pop-up.

From the day he added me, his social media was completely open to me. He posted photos of his school crest, English test papers, and the view of the courtyard from his classroom window.

It was far easier to identify him than any movie. I quickly matched his posts with the boy I had been quietly watching at school.

The final confirmation came during a physical education class. Austin and a group of boys walked past my classroom window. One of his friends laughed and teased him:

"Since when did you change your profile picture to Isaac Newton? Is that your secret to topping the physics exams?"

Austin shoved him playfully, laughing. But as he passed my window, the cord of my white earphones slipped from my school uniform.

His voice carried clearly through the open window, hitting me with absolute clarity.

"I am just waiting for my apple to fall."

The thump of my own heartbeat drowned out the music playing in my ears.

That night, I opened my social media to him and accepted his gift of the Miu Miu dress.

There is a special screening at the archive cinema this weekend, he had written. If you are willing to go with me, wear this dress to school. I will find you.

The next morning, a hand lightly tapped my shoulder. I turned around, but the moment the boy saw my face, his bright expression stiffened into awkward embarrassment.

"Oh... sorry, I thought you were someone else."

Violet quickly stepped in, hooking her arm through mine with a bright laugh.

"You silly boy, this is my older sister!"

Watching their hands naturally clasp together, I forced a blank smile and quietly returned to my seat.

Since reading those bullet comments, I had stopped replying to Austin’s messages. He had endless things to talk about with Violet at school, and he did not seem to notice my silence at all.

Until one afternoon, Violet casually tossed an apple onto my desk.

"Why are you and Austin both so obsessed with apples? It is such a boring fruit."

Austin, who was standing nearby, froze instantly.